The prompt for this week was the word “Wine”. I find that amusing because I’ve been craving wine all week, but only just got around to reading the prompt (a little late, but I have two kids so I was busy, damn it). Coincidences like this always make me curious about the tapestry of life, but never enough to consider a metaphysical significance.

It feels good to write again after a busy week. Perhaps one day I’ll be able to devote several hours a day to it, several days a week.



There is much to say about the elegance of self-sufficiency.

The woman felt coziest when she could come home on a rainy evening, pop the cork, pour herself a glass, and sit alone on her sofa. With her legs curled underneath her and a book in her hand, she felt a satisfied peace not easily found in those her age.

She didn’t need a partner, a child, or a pet to keep her company. Her personality was interesting enough to keep her content and the thousand worlds she’d explore through literature offered ample excitement.

She’d always be her own best friend.


© 2016 H.R. Stephens

Posterity in Her Works

Note: While I am a mother, I have many friends who are childfree by choice. This is sometimes viewed as a controversial decision. While I understand why some might find it odd, I do wonder why being childfree by choice is still considered taboo. But it is absolutely vital that women who are childfree by choice are respected. Bodily autonomy is essential in an equal society, and that means women cannot be forced or even guilted into childbearing. 


Her niece had the biggest, roundest eyes she’d ever seen on a six-year-old girl. She spent the afternoon diving deep into them as she listened to the philosophy of early childhood. An evening over mac and cheese taught her the virtues of always being nice to the lunch lady because she’s the one who controls the chocolate milk.

Afterwards, her friends would ask her if her biological clock was ticking.

“Didn’t it make you want to try?” they’d ask, nudging her husband knowingly.

It didn’t. Parenthood would never be part of her plans.

She’d never bear children. And that’s okay.

© 2016 H.R. Stephens