I know I haven’t been keeping to a schedule. Okay, scratch that. I haven’t been posting at all. It isn’t because I haven’t been writing because I have. Just not on my blog.
First off so far I seem to be having a rough year for a variety of reasons none of which I feel I can write about. Secondly, I got to travel with my daughter which was amazing. I have every intention of sharing photo’s of Europe once I make time. Thirdly, Mercury sucks – at least that what seems to be the common reason for blame this year.
Laughter is the best medicine, right? Well, I am giving it a real go and reading for the umpteenth time the ‘Stephanie Plum’ series of books by Janet Evanovich. Even after reading it six times I can still laugh to tears when reading these. It seems to have been helping me find my happy.
The great news is I am making great headway finally in organizing my bits into chapters that fall into order. I am not feeling so lost or overwhelmed now with writing the book. I do struggle to shake loose from the grips of emotion each time I write. To live my daily life without letting the past seep into it. Below is a rough draft from one of the chapters I’d thought to share.
When I landed at the small airfield and walked inside the airport I looked around and didn’t see my mother or anyone I knew. I retrieved my luggage and dragged it over to a pay phone where I called her. I got no answer. She still lived at the community with her new husband in a different house. Which was about an hour and a half from the airport I was waiting at. I wasn’t dressed for November weather. I didn’t own appropriate clothing for being far north in the winter. Darkness was falling. Two hours past and still I sat and waited alone.
After about three hours a vehicle pulled into the parking lot. It was my mother with her husband. I lugged my big suitcase to the back of the pickup and heaved it in. I got into the back on the little fold-down seat and asked what had taken so long. Her answer: she wasn’t sure she was even going to pick me up at all. She decided to come and get me but I had to leave within a week. I was dumbfounded. Why force me to fly there then? I had had a home and school lined up. Now I was far north turning sixteen in two days and apparently had nowhere to go.
I spent my sixteen birthday at my mothers as though I didn’t have one. The children didn’t know it was my birthday and she didn’t tell them. It was as if it didn’t happen. A month later she would call me to sing happy birthday. Apparently, she didn’t know what to say to me on my birthday but at Christmas time felt like it was fitting to call me and sing happy birthday.
Anyways I thought to post and share with you that I am still here and working away one letter, one word, one day at a time.