Melinda Coppola

twenty four may | from the inside out

Melinda Coppola

twenty four may | from the inside out

About My Blog

I started this blog to quiet the voices in my head and heart that have been whispering and cajoling and sometimes yelling at me to write more.

This is a space where all the parts of me—mother, poet, wife, lover of beach stones and furry creatures and frequent toe-dipper in the river of song, Yoga practitioner, and teacher and she-who-cooks and she-who-makes-art and she-who-loves-silence, where all the parts of me can come out to play.

I started this blog to keep myself engaged in dialogue with my soul. If what I write interests you, educates you, moves you, …well, that’s a beautiful bonus.

Most Recent Blog Post

A 2022 Story, Part 7

A 2022 Story, Part 7

You can read part 6 here: https://www.melindacoppola.com/a-2022-story-part-6/

 

Part 7

A spark of something wonderful rose inside Little Stream as she waited for Wee Lily Pond to push her towards the banks of Big River. Hope!  There would be a way out of this soon. She could feel her friend Lily swirling, gathering strength.

“Ok, now relax,” Lily told Little. “I’m going to bump hard into your edges.”

Little Stream tried to soften. She pictured the escape plan. Lily will push. I will roll into the river bank and slosh up onto the grass. Once I find my flow, I’ll move alongside Big River and dip in to rescue Wee Lily Pond.  Little Stream could just almost see the two of them back on the safety of grassy banks!

Meanwhile, Lily Pond swished and churned. I can do this, she told herself. Her waters billowed as she pushed mightily against Little Stream, pressing her into the dirt and rocks that made up one side of the great rushing river.

“Oh!” cried Little Stream as a few drops of her waters splashed into the air and onto a boulder. “More. You need to push harder.

Lily paused for a short rest. After a few moments, she began to imagine herself large as a mighty sea, rolling smack into and under her wee friend, lifting her up, up and over the riverbank. I can, I can, I can, chanted Lily to herself. “Here we go!” she rasped aloud to Little Stream. Pushing and pressing and agitating her little round body, she whisked her waters into a froth and slammed her weight as hard as she could into Little Stream and towards the edge of the big rushing river.

A shimmery blue-green wave lifted into the sky towards the bank of Big River, cresting with a white tip. It seemed to pause mid-air before dropping all the way backwards, smacking the two friends even deeper into the center of Big River. “Oh no!”  squeaked Little Stream. Lily Pond was silent, too tired to make a sound.

Big River surged along, pulling a very sad Little Stream and an exhausted Wee Lily Pond along with it.

To Be Continued…

 

 

Read More Blog Posts

A 2022 Story, Part 7

A 2022 Story, Part 7 You can read part 6 here: https://www.melindacoppola.com/a-2022-story-part-6/   Part 7 A spark of something wonderful rose inside Little Stream as she waited for Wee Lily Pond to push her towards the banks of Big River. Hope!  There would be a way out of this soon.

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It Goes Like This

You smile down on me from a slightly precarious perch on the shelf above my messy desk. It’s my favorite photo of you—young and exuberantly happy, arms flung wide, dressed in colorful layers that reflect your signature style. I’d never seen this picture until your Memorial Service, but I loved

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A 2022 Story, Part 6

And why, you might be asking, is she still working on a 2022 story? We are, after all, a few sturdy strides into 2023 spring. The answer is in the story itself. If you’ve been reading these discontinuous pieces, thank you!   A 2022 Story You can read part 5

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A 2022 Story, Part 5

A 2022 Story   You can read part four here: htts://www.melindacoppola.com/a-2022-story-part-4/   Part 5 Little Stream wasn’t sure Lily Pond had heard her question, so she asked again. “Wee Lily Pond, do you think there is a way out of this raging river? I really miss my quiet life.” Wee

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(She is) Unbroken

Unbroken There were times I imagined you different. My young mother mind pictured you— normal, typical, non-disabled. I can’t use those words anymore for their opposites evoke— lack, absence, tragedy, and you, my child, are a celebration of plenty, a bounty of delight, a well of fascination. In fact, you

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a 2022 Story, Part 4

You can read part three here: https://www.melindacoppola.com/?p=2948 Part 4   Little Stream and Wee Lily Pond bounced amicably against each other as they were rushed along in Big River’s mighty flow. “So, how’d you get here anyway?” asked Lily. Little felt her waters swirl with pleasure at the burbling of

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First Digit Singular

This Is What Really Happened Trigger warnings: Run-on sentences. Querulousness.   Thirteen days ago I had my thumb joint reconstructed. This was  elective and a long time coming—both carpo-metacarpals whittled down to bone on bone, naked osseous matter grinding boorishly against its equally unclothed neighbor, hyaline cartilage having fled years

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A 2022 Story, Part 3

A 2022 Story Part 3* Nudge, nudge. Tap, tap. There it was again!  A pattern, far from random. Little Stream was weary from the effort of holding herself together for an unknown number of suns and moons. Could she summon the energy to speak again? Try. I’ll try, she thought.

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A 2022 Story, Part 2

Little Stream Part 2* Little Stream could feel herself being pushed and pulled and hurried along in Big River’s watery trajectory. For the first time in her flowing life she lost track of the passage of days.  Whole moons or suns got lost when she was tugged under a strong

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