Sunday, September 11, 2022

Week in Seven Words #584

This covers the week of 3/28/21 - 4/3/21.

foe
In her isolation, she has unraveled. She flails at imagined terrors, as they press in on her from beyond the apartment walls. 

giddiness
Dozens of daffodils swaying by the field.

intermittently
The vaccine website is a test in reflexes. New appointments wink into existence and are just as quickly snapped up.

lukewarm
One book stands out as a suitable gift. But even as I buy it, I get the feeling that it won't inspire enthusiasm.

misty
A rainy haze on the river.

reacquainted
Visiting parts of the park I've neglected for a while, like catching up with old friends. Which trees have fallen, which paths are overgrown, and is the stream still full and flowing?

translated
After creating a video message in another language, I review it multiple times, convinced that I've made a major grammatical error or mixed up two words in an unintentionally filthy way. But it seems OK.

Monday, August 29, 2022

Week in Seven Words #583

This covers the week of 3/21/21 - 3/27/21.

biota
The season begins with crocuses, progresses to turtles.

fending
Spiky seed balls plinking on car windshields and roofs, as if the trees are defending against an invasion.

observing
Interesting to see who comments on the new glasses and who seems not to notice.

skateboarders
Two skateboards. On one, a young man holding a leash. On the other, a bulldog at the end of the leash. They skim along at a relaxed pace, both of them looking cool and poised.

substitutes
Her brain is largely hijacked by alternate realities, other versions of herself that command her thoughts.

superstore
The superstore is a comforting place because it never seems to run out of anything. It promises abundance.

uniformity
They all look like they go to the same hairdresser. Their hair is in the same ponytail, some threaded through a cap. They all wear yoga pants, short jackets, and big sunglasses, and they clutch a coffee in one hand, a phone in the other.

Friday, July 8, 2022

Week in Seven Words #582

This covers the week of 3/14/21 - 3/20/21.

branching
Brown, crunchy, bristling paths, a clear view of buildings through bare trees.

decompress
Her relaxation: Diet Dr Pepper, feet on ottoman, British period drama.

desktop
His desk: cigarette burns, a ball made out of rubber bands, a lamp with an oversized bulb that gets too hot too quickly.

impending
Sometimes it feels like we're on the deck of the Titanic, the music playing as the water rises.

older
Wiser in some ways, more bewildered in others.

protective
The water has been drained from the basin, and a girl slides inside to explore the mud-encrusted bottom. Her dog barks frantically from a nearby bench. It's restrained and can't keep her in sight. It can't protect her from whatever awaits her in the mud and the smashed leaves.

unknitted
Tense muscles seem to break apart slightly in the steam.

Friday, April 29, 2022

Week in Seven Words #581

This covers the week of 3/7/21 - 3/13/21.

ambulate
In the largely empty bookstore, a teenaged boy walks in a slow, wide circle while reading out loud to himself through a mask.

electrifying
A riveting sax solo brings joy to this corner of the park.

iciness
Today, there's frost in their relationship. It keeps their sentences clipped and cold.

institutionalized
Two seals circle the small tank without pause or release, as the demented bells jangle on the hour.

optical
First new pair of glasses in a while, and I like how they look.

sparking
A crackling cloud of seagulls electrified by the promise of food.

tired
Crusty buildings, haggard strip malls. The brownness of late winter and early spring, everywhere brown, waiting to be relieved by flowers, leaves, anything green.

Saturday, March 12, 2022

Week in Seven Words #580

This covers the week of 2/28/21 - 3/6/21.

compulsions
We're caught in traps of compulsive behavior – web surfing, phone scrolling, screen watching.

deceptively
What looks like ice on the lake is only the glare of sunlight.

enlarged
The eyes always come out too large in the drawings. Large, placid ellipses.

held
His body shakes with his need to talk, to have someone listen.

liquefy
A land melting into mud and puddles that seem like ponds.

retrospect
Months from now, I sense this worry will seem superficial, a distraction from larger problems.

warmth
A golden retriever finds us as we sit shoulder-to-shoulder on the sunlit bench.

Thursday, February 17, 2022

Week in Seven Words #579

This covers the week of 2/21/21 - 2/27/21.

anticipation
Two people at opposite ends of a room. They're holding books, but they aren't reading. When will they talk to each other?

arrangements
It's the first time I've been to synagogue in a year. The room downstairs has been organized into islands of chairs. Some islands have one chair, others two. The service is quieter.

coveting
Birds taking off and landing on the feeders, while nearby a chunky squirrel stares, waiting his chance.

mud
The slip squish of mud. Everywhere mud. Most people grumble, but one kid is discovering the joy of a puddle in a field caked in mud and slush. He's not the one who will be washing his clothes later, which is part of what makes him happy.

protected
Sitting in the pool of warmth from an outdoor heater, the cold air pressing in but pushed back.

skin-deep
Our relationship has cooled from genuine warmth to superficial friendliness.
 
tedious
Tired of online events. The small, detached faces, the audio that fails, the lack of energy, the lure of other browser tabs.

Week in Seven Words #578

This covers the week of 2/14/21 - 2/20/21.

ache
We used to sit in this room with its floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and the lamplight on the red couch.

belly
They don't have sleds, but they do have bellies, so they slide down the hill head first, eyes squinting against the dazzle of sunlight on snow.

glimpses
Beyond the dense branches there's light, white and faintly purple.

moved
The silence of snow falling. At the bus stop, he says a brief prayer.

perching
She's gained access to the roof, and from there, she feeds birds.

unbroken
The fact that I have a good night's sleep is worth commenting on. I don't take it for granted.

wobble
Without his job, his days have turned to jello.