The first of a three-part series about the importance of leaving your home, traveling abroad, and immersing yourself in a little history.
A woman that worked there, knew I was going to be sitting there for some time. As she left for lunch, she kindly offered to bring me back some coffee or a snack. Too overwhelmed, I politely declined and thanked her. A couple of hours later she offered again, on her way out to pick up her kids from school. I sheepishly thanked her, and declined her kind offer. Unwilling to relent, she approached me a short while later to give me a Coke and a Planter’s protein pack with assorted snacks. It was all I could do not to burst into tears.
Bobby walked down to peek over Jerry’s shoulder. Trina’s room was drowning in pink. The curtains on the windows were pink with polkadots. The sheets on her bed were pink with flowers. There was even a rug that was pink and white swirling in circles. Bobby shuddered, thankful he didn’t have an eight year old sister. Trina was sitting on her bed, brushing the hair of a baby doll. She looked pale.
If this truly was supposed to be a year of new beginnings, and everything we practiced up to this point was meant to prepare us for what is to come, then maybe a holistic exegesis is just the thing we need. Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to stop practicing and finally get in the game.
I had ten trees in my hand and they had also sent two “bonus trees” as a thank you for my membership and survey. Now I had twelve. In June, when I read ten trees, I didn’t think much of it. I’ve got an acre and a half, plenty of room, right? Well, yes, but there’s more to it than that. Until they arrived in the mail, I didn’t know what kind of trees I was getting.
The second chapter of my serial novel, Winter House. “Sorry,” Bob said. His head shook slightly, giving confirmation to Ted’s idea that the story he was about to share was not appropriate for Todd. “I know why people said they left. But it was just a rumor.” Ted and Terry exchanged another glance. This time […]
As does everything in life, my self-indulgent writing hobby is evolving. Growing, even. That means keeping the house in order. So the name has changed, and the content will be more focused. I promise, it’s not you, it’s me.