TTOT February

 14th Feb 2021

Today, Valentine's Day, I am mainly thankful for God's  Love for all of us. Thinking about His immense love for me is just mind blowing. It rests deep in my heart, makes me want to bring it to the world. I see it played out in my marriage as me and my husband try to put God's love there too. 

It makes me so happy to have this man of mine, who constantly loves and struggles to love more. Some women, today are getting flowers and words of love from partners. Me, I get a cup of tea in bed, my computer brought to me so I can write and the  beautiful vision of my dear husband helping our son. It beats flowers any day. Not that my poor hubby wouldn't have bought me flowers , he would. But he knows me well enough to know that, rather than making me feel loved ( well, they might , a little bit), I would probably get irritated at the money spent ( wasted, as the said flowers start dying immediately they come into the house). 

Yesterday we went for a walk in the woods. It was below freezing, but we got so much joy, it was almost worth returning home with icy toes and fingers. 

The sun shone too. And our daughter's dog slid about on icy streams, causing much laughter. 

Earlier in the week, I was told an article I wrote will be published today. You'll find it here: 

https://adamah.media/being-a-grandma-in-a-time-of-pandemic/

    

The smile never slipped from my face all day. 

That, along with other accolades, helps me to convince myself that actually I am a writer. My friend Caroline said a couple of months ago, "If you write , you're a writer." 

That didn't quite do it for me. I mean, I could write rubbish, would I still be a writer? Surley, being a writer meant more than just committing  words to the page. Didn't they have to also have an audience. And to be a proper writer, shouldn't I be getting paid. 

While I still struggle with these questions, I can at least be comforted that someone wants to publish my  work. 

For me that's enough for now. 

Although it's being published today, it's already gone for me . I'm on to the next thing.

Another thankful is the joy I find in writing my memoir. I never in my wildest dreams expected to be able to write more than 70 thousand words, but I have.  

Today, I am thankful for so much. 

There have been many good points. 

No More Mourning

8th March 2019

Story for Friday Fictioneers





Thank you to CEAyer for the photo.

No More Mourning

Staring out of the hotel window, Grace noticed the motorbike, almost hidden in the side street, waiting.  She'd seen it the morning before, when she'd watched as a handsome, middle aged, Italian man strode up to it purposefully and rode it away. She'd watched  him throw his head up against the wind as it blew through his dark hair and billowed through his open shirt, exposing his tanned body.

 Now she waited by the window. Three minutes, four minutes.. She was rewarded with a repeat of the day before, but this time he lingered, turned around,  as if looking for someone. Catching sight of his face made her shiver, her skin tingling, yearning. Her eyes followed him as he drove away and hung there after the noise of the engine faded. 

Guilt welled up within her. She shouldn't be feeling like this, she told herself. Surely it wasn't right.

 Grace thought of her husband who'd died just two months before. She'd nursed him during a long illness. She'd spent herself, put her own life on hold. Maybe it is only weeks since his death, but I'm done with  mourning, she decided, she'd done plenty of that over the last year as her dear Frank slowly disappeared.
They'd promised themselves that when they retired they'd spend some time in Florence. They'd looked forward to it, dreamed about it for years. She never expected to be here on her own, certainly didn't think she was brave enough, yet here she was. She knew her husband would understand, would even be happy for her. 

Maybe she would practice her Italian.

Maybe tomorrow she would speak to the mysterious stranger.

Red

12th Nov 2018


I can't believe it's been four months since I wrote anything on my blog.
Life has been busy since the summer.
Also, I was unwell for months with a viral infection that laid me low.
I am, however seeing the wood for the trees now and am champing at the bit, with a
lot of willingness but few ideas.
I have decided to return to my Writing Group where I hope to get some inspiration.
The colours today as I walked along were such a wonderful sight. I love the yellows, the reds, the oranges as well as the browns and greens. in fact if you look closely you see all the colours there is, because that what the natural world is like and this time of year emphasises all of that.



Red

I thought of you this morning as I often do
The situation made me laugh and weep, it's true

I tried the door of another car, it was red, after all
Then I noticed I was wrong and heard  my husband call

It's not even the same make as ours, he says,  as if that makes a difference to me,
just like dad he raised his eyes, and waived in his hand, the key

And then it was that I remembered a particular time
when in you got beside a stranger - he was in his prime

You were both surprised at first and lost for words
dad knocking on the window just made it more absurd

You explained yourself as best you could, leaving nothing out
"his fault for parking  in front of the butcher's," without a doubt

It still makes me chuckle a bit you see
It makes me think that's so like me