Monday, March 13, 2017

Tuesday Tales and I Love Lemons


Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! It's time for Tuesday Tales.



A group of writers gather together and give our interpretation of a specific word prompt each week. Once per month, we even write to an image.  You never know what you might encounter when you get inside our minds. This week our group writes to the word- lemon.  This will be an excerpt from my new WIP for a new romance contemporary, What the Storm Didn't Take.

Enjoy!~








A few days after the support meeting, I decided it was time to touch base with Kara. Kara initially tried to reach out to me shortly after Garrett died. Then, I really wasn’t in a good place to accept her support. Retreating to my cave may have upset some of my friends, but, I just wanted to be left alone. I realized I needed to make some repairs on our bridge of friendship. “Kara, it’s me, Rachel.”


“It’s wonderful to hear from you!” Her voice held no tone, no sarcasm, and no hidden meanings.


“Can we meet for coffee, lemon pie, or something similar today?” The moment of truth, would she say yes, or wave away my offer like an unwanted insect?


I held my breath.


“Absolutely.”


So, here I was out in public again, surviving, putting one foot in front of the other. I was a little early, I wanted to make sure Kara knew I was sincere. I figured waiting on her was a good start. A few acquaintances waved in my direction, giving me space. I felt like a porcupine, or a skunk.


I guess I was that unapproachable.


Kara burst through the doors of the cafĂ©, obviously excited to see me. “Hey, you!” Wrapping me in a huge hug, she squeezed me tightly. “I missed you so much.”


“I know, me too. I’m sorry I haven’t been more sociable.”


“You don’t need to apologize to me. I’m here and I love you.” She turned her attention to Ryan. “Here he is! What a handsome little guy.”


“Do you want to hold him?”


She looked at me as if I was on bizarre drugs. “Well, of course!” Without any further prompting, she reached into the carrier and carefully lifted him out. She spent the next ten minutes just fussing over my smiling little boy. “He’s incredible.”


“He’s the center of my world, that’s for sure.”


“I’m really glad you called me. I missed you something fierce.”


“I haven’t been in a very receptive place. It’s been really hard.”


“I know.” She patted my arm, and her touch was peaceful, caring, warm, and most importantly, genuine.
We began chatting, and it was like riding a bike. We carried on like high school girls, barely touching our drinks. Minutes turned into hours and the afternoon was a glorious reminder of the life I had in front of me.

 
Please visit us at our main site for more interpretations of lemon  Tuesday Tales Main Page





Tuesday, March 7, 2017

Tuesday Tales - But For a Tree


Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! It's time for Tuesday Tales.



A group of writers gather together and give our interpretation of a specific word prompt each week. Once per month, we even write to an image.  You never know what you might encounter when you get inside our minds. This week our group writes to the word- tree.  This will be an excerpt from my new WIP for a new romance contemporary, What the Storm Didn't Take.

Enjoy!~




I bought out every fruit tree the local nursery had in stock. I’m sure I made the owners day with the amount of money I spent. Today, money was no object standing in the way of what I wanted to do. A tree was the perfect memorial- strong, sturdy, with deep roots holding fast as the important base.

Conner helped me load them all in my dad’s truck.

“Are we going very far?” Eyeing the full bed, he appeared to guage the success rate of getting everything to the site.

“We aren’t going far at all. I’ll drive slowly with the hazard blinkers on. Don’t you worry about me.”

“I’ve never doubted your determination.” Smiling, Conner raised an eyebrow and took off the work gloves.

“Get in, we’ve got work to do.” I tried to think of this as a routine project, I couldn’t think the word memorial without losing my shit. With the entire truck full of trees, I almost felt overwhelmed. How the hell would we get them all planted?

I hit the gas and off we went, racing at a turtle’s pace for the few miles to the new orchard. I’d never taken Garrett there, and I was suddenly hesitant to share such a personal place. Not knowing what to say, I chose to stay quiet, pretending to focus on my driving.

“Thank you for trusting me to help you with this.” He spoke so softly, I almost didn’t hear him clearly.

“It’s been a hard year, one of the hardest of my life. You’ve been so good for me, it should be me thanking you.”

“I’m your friend, Rachel, you don’t have to thank me.”

Somehow, I did need to thank him, it’s just how I felt. He always showed up, almost at my beck and call. Not many people would do that. “It’s important you know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done.”  




 
Please visit us at our main site for more interpretations of tree  Tuesday Tales Main Page










 

Monday, February 27, 2017

Tuesday Tales Coming Up for Air

Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! It's time for Tuesday Tales.



A group of writers gather together and give our interpretation of a specific word prompt each week. Once per month, we even write to an image.  You never know what you might encounter when you get inside our minds. This week our group writes to the word- air.  This will be an excerpt from my new WIP for a new romance contemporary, What the Storm Didn't Take.

Enjoy!~



Mom’s cookies, Conner’s unwavering loyalty, our friends’ devotion, Garrett’s memorial…that did it. I finally started to cry. Excusing myself quickly for the truck, I needed privacy. The present was a heavy place to be in, the memories- both good and bad were incredibly suffocating.

It’s been a year, it doesn’t seem possible. You’ve been gone a year, and I’m carrying this grief around like a fifty pound sack of feed. It’s heavy, so heavy, but, I can’t put it down. I haven’t gotten where I need to be.

Why does it feel like such a burden? Nothing about you should be a burden. You were my husband, we have a family. I wish I could shake this hefty sorrow, but, it just won’t let me be. I gulped trying to take in some air.

Mom knocked on the truck window. I sat inside, letting the vents blast me with relief.

“Are you okay, honey?” She asked as I rolled down the window.

“I’m fine, just a little overwhelmed.”

Mom surveyed the work we’d accomplished. The orchard was looking awesome. “You’ve got so much support, Rachel. Everyone loves you so much and wants to be there for you. I’m glad you aren’t mad I asked some of our friends to help.”

“When will I stop being sad?” I felt like a little kid again, asking when the hurt would go away. Mom was supposed to know all the answers. Now, I was a mom and it terrified me that I didn’t know it all yet.
 
Please visit us at our main site for more interpretations of air  Tuesday Tales Main Page

Monday, February 13, 2017

Tuesday Tales...Ahh, it's Valentine's Day- Are you in the mood for love?


Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! It's time for Tuesday Tales.



A group of writers gather together and give our interpretation of a specific word prompt each week. Once per month, we even write to an image.  You never know what you might encounter when you get inside our minds. This week our group writes to the word- love.  This will be an excerpt from my new WIP for a new romance contemporary, What the Storm Didn't Take.

Enjoy!~













When I was younger, I couldn’t wait to fall in love. Love as I saw in the movies or on TV, you know a devilish, yet compassionate rogue who couldn’t get enough of me. His soft side always glistening in wait just below a steel surface exterior. To most folks he’d appear as a warrior, or maybe a scoundrel biker, gritty, his heart lined with sandpaper.
I’d know the truth.
That was my husband, the hopeless romantic who made me believe men were kind and compassionate, as well as rugged and protective. He brought my imagination to life in wonderful, astounding ways. When we argued, it was passionate and determined, before we stopped to practice empathy, attempting to see the other’s side. You see, we respected each other enough to know we had strong intelligence and even differing opinions had some common ground from which we could understand each other. We grew as human beings because of our differences and our many talks under the midnight moon, or the warming sun. I became a better person because of him. How often do folks say that? How often do we credit the ones instrumental in our lives? We can’t selfishly believe it’s all us on our own merits. We have folks who shape us, force us to take the leaps which become bounds of amazing miles.
My husband did that for me.
My husband is gone. He died and I don’t know who will be that coach for me now. I feel so lost. I’m afraid I’m stunted and will never recover and what will that mean for my son?



Please visit us at our main site for more interpretations of love  Tuesday Tales Main Page
 


 

 

Monday, February 6, 2017

Tuesday Tales and Heavy Metal


Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! It's time for Tuesday Tales.



A group of writers gather together and give our interpretation of a specific word prompt each week. Once per month, we even write to an image.  You never know what you might encounter when you get inside our minds. This week our group writes to the word- metal.  This will be an excerpt from my new WIP for a new romance contemporary, What the Storm Didn't Take.

Enjoy!~









“Did you ever wish your heart was made of metal?” The feeling of cold steel in the center of my chest remained a gloomy reminder of the loneliness and emptiness. Hollow, like the center of an oil drum, my heartbeat even echoed sadness. Thump, thump…pause thump… there, it started again. Maybe my heart would stop.


Maybe I should stop thinking that way. Fuck all these maybes.


“You mean like the tin man in Oz?”


Seriously, did she not remember the tin man had no heart? He was the lucky one. “No, the tin man needed a heart, big difference. He should’ve been grateful.” Why does anyone need a heart? I’ve learned the heart leads to more pain than happiness. I’m not sure I’d ever be at peace again.


“I was trying to envision a comparison, I’m sorry. No matter what I do, nothing ever helps you. Honestly, I don’t know what to say that won’t upset you.” Her face flushed, her eyes welled with tears bubbling her normally calm expression.


I felt like an asshole. “I’m sorry, mom, I’m being ugly. I just don’t know what to do with all…this” I waved my hands around my body, trying to exacerbate my crumbling wholeness. I’m sure it was visible to anyone, it had to be.


“I don’t know either, sweetheart. I’m your mom and should fix your pains, all your scrapes and bruises. I can’t tell you how much it hurts that I can’t make you feel better.”


My attention abruptly shifted from my broken heart to my mom’s. Empathy became a cruel assignment in humanity. I took on not only my heartbreak, but, my mom’s heartbreak too. She crumpled like a dandelion in my hot, tightly squeezed hand. How many times had I given her dandelions? Skipping across the yard in the spring, the grass under my toes, those bright yellow weeds disguised as flowers seemed a perfect gift from a six year old to my mom.  I never noticed how short they lasted from the time I picked them, until I gave them to her. Suddenly, the act of picking wildflowers and weeds became a cruel and unnecessary punishment to both human and earth.
Please visit us at our main site for more interpretations of metal  Tuesday Tales Main Page
 




 
 

Monday, January 30, 2017

Tuesday Tales on Track

Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! It's time for Tuesday Tales.



A group of writers gather together and give our interpretation of a specific word prompt each week. Once per month, we even write to an image.  You never know what you might encounter when you get inside our minds. This week our group writes to the word- track This will be an excerpt from my new WIP for a new romance contemporary, What the Storm Didn't Take.

Enjoy!~



It was then I realized I hadn't selected a focal point. During the classes, my mom and I chose something readily available at the time. I don't know why I hadn't selected something specific. Details became lost in my sluggish attempt at getting through each day without crying. I wanted something that would inadvertently soothe me, and take my thoughts somewhere pleasant. Spontaneously, a recollection appeared of Conner holding up that paper bag. I knew then my focal point needed to be an item from a happier time. I needed that little plastic Chewbacca.

The next time the nurse came into the room, I asked her to retrieve it. "Would you please get into that top drawer for me? I need my focal point for my breathing. I'm going to go with a toy."

Chuckling, the nurse complied. "I used a stuffed animal when I was in labor. My best friend brought a Care Bear for me to use. I guess it was comforting."

She relieved some of my self-consciousness when she admitted to using a toy as well. "Thank you, sounds like you get it."

"Labor is a challenge, one of the most rewarding challenges you'll face. You're going to get through this. Remember your breathing and everything you learned from the classes and your books. Where would you like me to put this little guy." Holding up the little brown action figure, she looked around the room.

I appreciated she didn’t mention Garrett or my horrible situation. She treated me like a run of the mill woman giving birth and I valued her for it. "I think on my tray table next to the bed will be fine. If we need to move it later, we can."

Anticipating I wouldn't stay in the same position for very long, I'd knew I'd need to move around a little bit, especially when these pains got worse. By then someone would be there to help me. Someone better be my coach, my mother. "Will you hand me my phone? I think it's charged enough now I can call my mom."

The nurse handed me the phone, leaving the room to give me some privacy. When mom didn't answer, I left a voicemail, also sending a text message. Settling back into the pillows, I listened to the rapid beat of my child's heart is monitor speakers. I checked the time on my phone to get an idea of how far apart these contractions were. I guessed seven minutes was an average as best I could tell. The monitor was keeping track anyway. A little sleepy, I closed my eyes hoping for a little catnap before the rolling pain struck again.

Please visit us at our main site for more interpretations of track  Tuesday Tales Main Page



 

Monday, January 23, 2017

Tuesday Tales in the Pictures


Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! It's time for Tuesday Tales.
A group of writers gather together and give our interpretation of a specific word prompt each week. Once per month, we even write to an image.  You never know what you might encounter when you get inside our minds. This week our group writes to a picture prompt. We have 300 words to get your attention. This will be an excerpt from my new WIP for a new romance contemporary, What the Storm Didn't Take.

Enjoy!~
Grief is the kind of heartache you feel in your bones. When I need peace, I look to the fresh snow, lovingly blanketing and protecting everything it covered. In February you are my Valentine for so many years I never knew what it was like to not have a valentine on Valentine's Day. We always share that special day just as happy and wrapped up as we did when we were first dating. I want you to know everything I did I truly meant it and I still enjoyed it even if I like to tease that I thought it was silly tradition or that the greeting card companies made up the holiday. Although they may have capitalized on it, I want you to know that as your Valentine I will always be your Valentine. I died loving you with every inch of my body and with all that I have in my heart. I hope you can believe that. I’ll believe you love me with all you had and all your strength came from your love. You'll need that strength now more than ever. Finding love again won't be as hard as you're going to try to make it. You're going to dig in your heels and pretend like it's some kind of cheating on me or however else you want to put it. You’ll think by loving again, and sharing Valentine's again with someone, it’s wrong somehow. Don’t think that way. It’s wrong, so wrong to deny your heart the fullness of love.  You need to know that all the love you had for me and all that passion doesn't go away. It doesn't die- it remains and it changes a little- it changes into all the memories of everything we ever did and keeps you from withering away.

Please visit us at our main site for more interpretations of this picture prompt Tuesday Tales Main Page