My newest adventure is underway. It has lead me to take up residency in a new blog,
Like the Feathers of an Arrow (affectionately known as LFA).

...don't open...don't throw away... is not disappearing completely (not yet),
but postings here will be limited.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

0 right to write

it feels good to write.  i wish i did not have such trouble getting the words out.  once they are out though, it feels good to read them over and know they came from me.  there is a small satisfaction in feeling my fingers move over the keyboard and my thoughts poor from me.  there is great satisfaction at reading those words and seeing how they have taken form; how they have erupted from within me.

it feels good to write.  there is a great peace in this escape.  i wish i could find it more often.  i wish i could allow myself to delve into it more and not be bogged down by all of the other stuff that weighs on me constantly.  i find a small bit of happiness and comfort in who i am when i write and when i go back over those words. 

it feels good to write.  it feels very, very good to write.  it feels right to write.

0 serendipitous

The sound of the chair scrapping against the brick laid patio startled her from her thoughts. She took a moment to glance away from the computer screen to catch a glimpse of the man who sat down across from her. Her eyes averted back to her screen as she tried desperately to squelch the tirade of thoughts that itching to take control of her mind. "Don't suppose you remember me?" His voice was exactly as she recalled it, rough and sexy like the rest of him.  It had only been a brief exchange of words, but it was still enough to embed his voice into her memory.

She took a moment to regain her mental composure. Without looking up from the words she had been laboring over for the past several days, she replied. "Likelihood is against you. I'm not really one for faces or people for that matter. I have a small tunnel vision problem. Not because I'm too absorbed in my own thoughts to notice anyone, nor because I'm an elitist who walks with her nose in the air believing she's better than everyone else. On the contrary, I rarely pick up my head or look people in the eyes. People simply make me uncomfortable. So I do my best to pretend they don't exist. You," she finally took her gaze away from the jumble of words and looked up at him, "however, were unavoidable. One, because we bumped into each other at the airport, an incident that made it very hard to pretend you didn't exist. And two, you just sat down at the table over there," she nodded in the direction from which she had known he had come, "with Della, that would make you either the groom or the groom's much hotter, her words not mine, older brother."

A sexy half grin creased his lips at her words. She could see a glint of humor in his eyes. He cocked his head to the side slightly, "So, you saying you don't think I'm hot?"

With a small raise of her shoulders, she responded, "'Hot' is a relative term, though I'd say you possess some generally handsome features. As for 'much hotter'," she leaned slightly to the side and looked toward where his brother was sitting with his future bride and her aunt, Della. She looked back at him,obviously giving him a once over, "that might be a bit of an exaggeration."

He nodded thoughtfully at her. "So than you do think I'm hot?"

She allowed the smile that had been itching to get out spread.  With a small shake of her head, she allowed a small sigh of a laugh to escape.  "Is there something I can help you with? Your party seems eager to order and I'm sure your presence is desired."
Without even a glance over his shoulder, he shook his head and dismissed her statement. "My brother knows what I want, he'll order for me. No worries there. As for what you could help me with," he leaned forward across the table, "you can have dinner with me."

Sunday, February 7, 2010

0 still unreal...yet not

Today is four months.  I do my best not to think about it, because I can feel my eyes glass over and the tears welling in the corners of my eyes.  Here I her seat.  I remember my dad talking about how it would be his seat now, like it was a badge of honor, a privilege.  Meanwhile it seems I have instead made this my second home.  Sometimes it feels weird occupying this seat, like I don't belong; I can't really explain it. 

Four months...I think about the future sometimes...of pinnacle moments in time...I thought Christmas would be hard...but my mind runs to Mother's Day and our birthdays and I don't know how I'll handle them...  Part of me hopes that the thinking will be worse than the actual event...only time will tell...