My short-short story, Seventy-four, will be included
in this year’s California Writers Club anthology,
The Shorts, Too! ~ A collection of stories and poems under 75 words.
Seventy-four
This is one of those nights - a quiet evening, stretched out on the sofa, listening to soft, sweet, sexy music, sipping a leathery red wine. Yes, it's one of those nights. Dinner over, time on my hands, the dense scent of cut tropical flowers buttering the air. One fat candle lit for just me. I'd love to share the kissable sensuality of it. And long ago, in another life, I did.
June 21st is my birthday. You can guess how old I'll be in years, but I’ve lived eight lifetimes so far:
1.) solitary, (friendless) imaginative childhood,
2.) synchronized swimming teen years,
3.) dreadful 18-21 in Buffalo, New York,
4.) romantic early twenties and first marriage in California,
5.) divorce and the complicated relationships that followed, intertwined with:
6.) teaching, solo motherhood with two beautiful daughters, 2 years on St. Thomas USVI, and buying my own home,
7.) bereaved motherhood with a trial, travel, and a book,
8.) The Present: grandmotherhood with one beautiful daughter, son-in-law, and a grandson.
Unrequited love has been a through-line in my story. Once upon a time, I thought I’d make the perfect wife. Seems the men in my life thought otherwise. For years, I wondered: Is it me? Then, I thought: Is it them? And finally, I realized: It IS me. I grew up friendless, unschooled in the art of compromise. My life lesson this time around seems to be learning how to stand on my own two feet. I built my present life on my own and that fills my heart with pride. It also precludes anyone else from sharing a piece of my life or my heart. For the past 10 years, this heart has been awash with grief. No one can penetrate the leaden wall of sorrow encasing it, nor do I want them to. I went through this alone; I will build myself back up alone. Back in the day, I would have longed for a close friend to help me. Now? Solo construction is what I know how to do, so I'll push up my sleeves and dig in.
Like a cat, I think I have one more life in this incarnation. I’d better start planning now to use my independence wisely.
in this year’s California Writers Club anthology,
The Shorts, Too! ~ A collection of stories and poems under 75 words.
Seventy-four
This is one of those nights - a quiet evening, stretched out on the sofa, listening to soft, sweet, sexy music, sipping a leathery red wine. Yes, it's one of those nights. Dinner over, time on my hands, the dense scent of cut tropical flowers buttering the air. One fat candle lit for just me. I'd love to share the kissable sensuality of it. And long ago, in another life, I did.
June 21st is my birthday. You can guess how old I'll be in years, but I’ve lived eight lifetimes so far:
1.) solitary, (friendless) imaginative childhood,
2.) synchronized swimming teen years,
3.) dreadful 18-21 in Buffalo, New York,
4.) romantic early twenties and first marriage in California,
5.) divorce and the complicated relationships that followed, intertwined with:
6.) teaching, solo motherhood with two beautiful daughters, 2 years on St. Thomas USVI, and buying my own home,
7.) bereaved motherhood with a trial, travel, and a book,
8.) The Present: grandmotherhood with one beautiful daughter, son-in-law, and a grandson.
Unrequited love has been a through-line in my story. Once upon a time, I thought I’d make the perfect wife. Seems the men in my life thought otherwise. For years, I wondered: Is it me? Then, I thought: Is it them? And finally, I realized: It IS me. I grew up friendless, unschooled in the art of compromise. My life lesson this time around seems to be learning how to stand on my own two feet. I built my present life on my own and that fills my heart with pride. It also precludes anyone else from sharing a piece of my life or my heart. For the past 10 years, this heart has been awash with grief. No one can penetrate the leaden wall of sorrow encasing it, nor do I want them to. I went through this alone; I will build myself back up alone. Back in the day, I would have longed for a close friend to help me. Now? Solo construction is what I know how to do, so I'll push up my sleeves and dig in.
Like a cat, I think I have one more life in this incarnation. I’d better start planning now to use my independence wisely.
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