WAITING FOR LILLIAN

This began with some photos my partner took quite a while ago.  I began to poke around and discovered quite a few ship wrecks had occured in the region due to a  horrendous storm in 1913. I researched several of the wrecks' histories and picked the one most mysterious.  This has been a fun project.  It took longer than I anticipated to get everything mashed together, but here she is; please enjoy 

Waiting for Lillian

They stood at the cliff; him so strong and brave, her frail and small. The wind and waves roared, attempting to distract them from their last few moments together. He reached for her and stroked her hair tenderly as he sucked from his pipe and thought about the journey she could not take with him. They had not been apart for a long time.

“Please don’t go.” Lucy clung to him, relishing the smell of salt and the scratch of his wool jacket against her cheek

“Lucy, you’re being silly. Summer’s gone and I must get the harvest to Midland. You will stay with Ms. Boyd and the rest. Learn a lot. Do your best.” His voice was tough and clipped but inside he felt the heavy tug of sadness at having to leave his daughter for this trip. They had no choice if they wanted to survive the winter months.

“-But Papa…” her voice was small and although he wasn’t looking, he could feel her tears warmly soaking his trousers.

He winced as she hugged him tightly and shook with the sobs of a frightened little girl. With her momma, Alice, gone, he had to rely on the kindness of Ms. Boyd, the school teacher at the old lighthouse to take care of his precious cargo while he boarded the SS James Carruthers and headed down Lake Superior through the Soo to Georgian Bay. John Thompson had done a good job of raising young Lucy al one after Alice had passed. Childbirth was just too much for the beautiful, gentle woman that he had persuaded to be his wife. He was permitted one angel at a time and Lucy was it. She was a wonderful gift though he still missed his wife. He sat at night watching Lucy sleep or sew, recognizing Alice’s features and manners flutter through her daughter like a butterfly through a meadow. It always caused that hollowness, heaviness of empty arms. Even now, he ached for his lovely Alice. He sighed and draped his arm around his daughter’s shoulder, rocking softly with the swell of the water below. Somehow it soothed them. The mist flecked their faces as if it knew how hard this would be and was crying with them.

“I’ll be home before you know it.” he dragged sullenly.

“Promise?” she sniffed, wiping her nose along her shawl; inhaling deeply the scent of his tobacco.

“Like to bet on it little Miss?” he grinned around his pipe at the tiniest note of hope in her voice.

“Yes SIR! A picture show?” her teeth gleamed in a sweet smile at the prospect.

“Pricey request, my Dear but I could be talked out of a nickel for your wonderful smile and the sound of your laugh.”

“Mothering Heart with Lillian Gish! OHHH Papa!” the little girl’s trouble seemed to melt away and the excitement in her tiny hands could have lifted him off the ground. He laughed and swirled her around.

“Lillian Gish it is” and in her hand he placed a nickel. “Now don’t lose this or we can’t go.” He teased.

“Oh thank you Papa! It will be the bee’s knees!”

The water approved with roaring waves of applause. He kissed her hair and hugged her tight enough to last the whole voyage and John Thompson walked along the path heading for his ship. She watched him haul his gear, feeling proud of him. He was stronger than any papa there ever was and he knew more about these lakes than anyone. Wiping the last tears away, tucking in her mind the wonderful moving picture she would see in just a short while and the joy of holding his rough hand as he guided her into the bijou to see Lillian Gish. LILLIAN GISH!!! Seven year old Lucy waved and shouted “I love you!” to his back. She remained at the rocks watching her father’s ship push toward the locks. Today was the sixth of November. Soon he’d be home.

Ms. Boyd rang the clunky bell and the straggling children sauntered in for lessons. They were immersed in the lighthouse where their days would be filled with studies and chores. If Lucy wasn’t carrying wood for cooking and baths, she could help in the kitchen with meals and preserves or her favorite; sewing in the upper landing where she could watch for her father’s ship; waiting. As her nimble fingers graced needle and thread, she clutched the nickel her papa had given as a reminder that it was only for a while. An afternoon with her papa and the moving picture show were close at hand. It filled her with warmth.

The weather began to look grey and menacing. By Saturday the eighth, things looked very bad. Lucy hoped that Papa had made it through the locks and was well on his way to port as the wind began to howl and sway the lighthouse. The window sashes rattled as the storm gathered anger and shoved through the Soo toward Huron. Lucy sat in the rocking chair mending and stared out at the raising swells. The surges of water seemed to swallow the huge jagged rocks below and the wind growled around the skinny schoolhouse. Rain smacked their home so hard they could barely see across the water and the night was so mean it seemed to the children that it wanted nothing more than to gobble them right up. Lucy kept sewing and rocking. Lillian Gish was waiting.

She continued when Evelyn’s paw came home on the Midland Prince after the skies had cleared. Albert squealed like a stuck pig when the JH Sheadle docked. There was always so much to celebrate when the men came home; especially since “The Great White Hurricane” had turned torn through the region. So many had to be accounted for; both men and cargo. Everyone feared the price that had been paid.

But the days dragged on and there was no word about the Carruthers. Albert’s dad had said he’d seen it just ahead of them on the St. Mary’s river. He’d waved as it stopped for coal and headed for Duck Island. Still, no one had seen her and Lucy sat alone in the tower.

At last the bodies began to appear as did the smashed and broken wreckage of Canada’s largest steamer of the day; her once sturdy steel hull now appearing flimsy and frail, twisted and sick. Most of the news was coming from Point Clark, almost seventy miles south of their final destination. They sent word that Captain Wright was discovered as were most of the other crew members dressed in their heavy coats and life jackets. They had all known fear and doom. They had no choice but to let it wash over them.

Lucy was inconsolable. Her sorrow compared to the storm’s ten to twelve foot waves; heavy and crashing through her small frame. Her eyes rained like the torrent that stole her father from her and the sobs were deep and filled with fear. Ms. Boyd held her and rocked back and forth. Through Lucy’s quivering lips came three confusing stuttered words: “Way-haaayyting….ffffor Li-lil LILLIAN!” and the painful tempest would surge again. Sleep came reluctantly in the tower in her chair. The teacher stroked the newly orphaned child’s hair and felt her body tremble with sadness even when there should have been peace.

Lucy floated through her days, silent and wispy like the ghost her father had become. Ms. Boyd kept her rather than turn her to the state orphan home. Lucy didn’t want to leave the lighthouse or her perch on the landing where she sewed, daydreaming of her father’s calloused hand and the bijou. When the time came, it made sense that the lighthouse become Lucy’s and took over as headmistress. The children loved her. She was tough and fair, expecting nothing less than their best. “Learn a lot. Do your best.” She would say clanking the heavy bell to summon her “brood” of students.

After harvest, when she had the most children with her and their papas were all on the water, Lucy would take them up the seventy-two steps to the landing where they would read and finish lessons. She would rock and sew, searching the dark unforgiving water for her father, a nickel pinched tightly in her last two fingers of her left hand.

It has been a labor of love. Thank you for stopping by to share it with me. I'm glad you came.




Research via
Taless of the Sea: Great Lakes Storm
Guillermao Shaer, Buenos AIres, Argentina
Google:
Wikipedia: films in 1913
ImDB: most popular films of 1913
Filmsite.org

Come with me

I couldn't go with him. I had too much to do. I hate that. Well at least I thought I did.


Cheech had to have some tests done. Nothing major, no worries, we are all healthy as horses.  This was simply a test to monitor the progression of a condition he's had (as most of us do) for a long time: carpal tunnel.  I knew someone who had the surgery but it didn't turn out to be of any benefit. To me that's like a "Carrot Top Face lift"...check for the photos; it's a scary SCARY thing.


So he decided to tell me about it. AAAAAALLLLL about it. I suppose it's payback. Having been married to me for all these years I've more than ruined a food, a place or a smell with my colorful wording. He got me good.


He walked in and shook Doc's hand.  "We'll see if you want to be so friendly after this is all said and done." he grinned.  Cheech hesitated.


"Oh?" he smiled and waited politely.
"Yes. This is going to hurt."


Let us pause briefly.  How many times have you had your doctor say this to you outright? Me neither. I've heard: "You'll feel a little pressure, a prick (my favorite because I ALWAYS reapply that word as a proper noun), slight discomfort..." you get the picture.


Then he got out the needles. Another pause is due simply because of what I just wrote:
It's going to hurt
He got out the needles.


For those of you who need a bigger picture: I am spinning. The nausea is sweeping through me and the sweat has pricked my skin just in my attempts to type what I was told.


"He place one in my arm. "My dreamboat tells me. I close my eyes trying to find a happier place while he begins to tell a tale straight from the bowels of Hell.


"Then another. and some more"
I nod like a pensive monk in prayer, closing my eyes tighter.


"Then he got some electrodes out and the little wire."


I stop nodding and feel a sick tingling begin in my elbows and radiate out toward my hands and armpits. My knees begin to quake. My husband waits for it.


"And he turned on the machine." his voice is soft and velvety; almost apologetic.


I feel my soul begins to wilt and I sink in my seat. My head bobbles like a toy and my mouth is full of scream, thick and dark. This is a nightmare for me and I'm not anywhere NEAR this. It is simply his memory, but my mind has decided to participate and treat it as current. (no pun intended)


"My arm flew up and almost off the table. The pain was hot...My eyes would have watered had I not been afraid to electrocute myself."


Can you hear my face? Feel my shriek? One thing he's learned being married to a writer is the importance of conveying feeling with words.  He's gotten very good at it. I may have competition.


"I was shocked."
"So am I. Did you tell him to stop?"
"No. I couldn't and then he moved the needles."
"He moved...he he WHAT?" I was wailing and shaking my hands as if they were wet. "NOOO! He MOVED them? Where? To someone ELSE I hope! I..I..." my life energy was close to puddling on the floor.


Cheech was nodding slowly devouring each expression and emotion as it marched through, leaving me a little more weak and less human.  I was rapidly approaching the Jell-o phase of existence.


"Yes.  He moved them. Up and down my arm. And each time, he had to do it all again." this factoid rushed from him almost in childish giggles. He was enjoying this.


"Plug you in?" I asked timidly. My mouth was turned down and pinched. I had managed to somehow blink my eyelashes into my socket and I wondered briefly if the numbness that had soaked up my body would ever subside.


"And then..."
"NO! NO THEN. NO MORE. I GIVE!" My breath somehow shoved the words in an angry whisper. I collapsed in my chair with an exasperated puff. My hair was damp along the back of my neck. My armpits were sticky with panic. "no. more." I whimpered.


He dove in next to me and tickled me, complete with "BZZZZ-aaappp" noises. I was utterly defenseless.


"So how was YOUR day?" he laughed and hugged me. When he was satisfied that I truly WOULD pee in my pants.


"Draining. Are you okay? Really. Are you?" I truly wanted to know because I couldn't imagine how he had survived such a horrific torture. I touched his arm and saw the beginnings of the bruises.


"Awww. I'm sorry. It wasn't so bad." he kissed my head. "Next time, come with me." and he pulled me in.


I once again thought of the sharp verb that I could use as a proper noun.





Nothing too glamorous. Just wanted to share. I am glad you came. I enjoy our time together.

Ohhhh my! Has it been so long??? Yes it has.
A raging stomach virus romped through my house tagging me twice and everyone else once. Cheech is last man down.  We have spent lots of quality time wrapped around ceramic bowls soothing each other, holding hands and getting cool wraps.  Welcome to the house of Typhus. GEEEEEZE! Not even the dogs want us as company.  Winston snorts and heads for my office and Birdie simply looks disappointed. "Weak. Weak WEAK humans. Now find the strength to get a cookie for me. I have no thumbs."

At least it didn't plague me for the race.  I'd have finished anyway. it was for the hat. Which I will post a picture of it's lovely shrine soon. :)  Shrine? Yes. How could we have anything less? Until next time when I shall buy a cabinet for all my warrior wins.  Kinda like a viking trophy case? hmmmm virus must have travelled north to the grey matter....I seem a little skewed. Bah..it's all good. Hooyah!

I am heading up north tomorrow. I can no longer stay away. I miss my Promises. So my hope is to get a couple of things up for next week.

Let's talk Sunday or Monday, shall we?
Thanks for checking in on me.
I miss you guys.

The stragglers

And how could I have been so careless; so forgetful to not include the ultimate goal?
The hat!
the pirates were comically extra. I think they had more than the one free beer offered. I could be wrong.

Success

Well, I did it.  I ran, climbed, swam, crawled, and jumped. I was a warrior and couldn't be more proud of what I accomplished; what we accomplished together.  Although not all Yayas were present, and we missed them, we did it and not to mince words: kicked ass.

It was hard. I'm glad I worked for it. Next time I will work a little harder.

To begin, we had to crawl through some drainage pipes then on to some trucks we had to scale (up with a rope, across the top and down). We scrambled up and over rugged, rough moguls and then up some hay bales. This doesn't sound like much but the hay was wet and it was coming "unbaled" so it actually became slick like a slide.  We hopped across some small creeks, walked a plank or two then we got down to the nitty gritty.

It began with the "breathless bog"  I have never been in water so cold.  My legs were numb and it truly DID yank the breath from your lungs. I remember hearing my fellow warrior gasping as the water swooshed around her.   You had to swim out and climb over floating logs.  The trick was that they spun and if you caught it on the wrong direction, it flipped you and sucked you under. Did I mention how COLD the water was? yes. Well after half a dozen of those muthah-lovin logs, we crawled out and staggered to the walls.  Yep, "S" would denote more than one.  I ran up to the first one and realized it was chest high.  I had to hoist myself to get my leg over and then hop down. Five more times I did this: hop, hoist, roll. Pretty funny considering my ensemble. I looked like the hippo ballerinas in Fantasia.

We ran through another smaller "lake" and climbed the knee deep foamy mud. A rope was our best tool to get out and that still proved challenging. We began to hear the clatter of the cowbells and cheering...we were close to the end.

At this moment in time, a poor four foot long snake decided to cross the warrior path.  It would have been fine had one of our warriors not spotted it.  But she did and began to scream.  She was trying to tell us that there was a snake.  These words did not come however, only "AHHH!" followed by panicked pointing.  Every new person she saw, she warned in this manner.  "AHHHHHH" ... "AHHHHHH" The look in her eyes was one of complete terror.  Of course being her friends we were screaming too! "AHHH?" "AHHHHH!" and then came the true Yaya moment; giggling and pointing. A very nice young man helped her passed the snake and on we marched; just a little more hoarse than when we started. And on LONG snake with a headache headed for more peaceful ground.

We came to the last hill: one melting under the mud trekked on it all day.  We had to get down on all fours and use tree stumps as hand holds.  One warrior, (hint: "AHHHHH") started up the hill in the middle.  It had the clearest path, but as she discovered, the most slippery.  We heard the thump of runners' feet coming behind us and saw the pack, we began to hustle just to get out of the way.  She began to slide back into the masses.

"I'm going! I'm gonna go!"
vrooop! down the hill face first.
"Well I can't stay HERE all day! I can't get up! I'm stuck!"
more giggling and pointing. We were waiting for the words:
"No! You go on without me! Let me die here...I'm too weak." and that would have sent us right over the edge.
"Hey, why don't you use that stump right in front of you?"
"Oh..yeah..." Restored to full strength, we kept on moving.  The warrior (her sister) behind her was very happy since "Lil Miss Slip-n-Slide" had almost taken HER out and would have if Jen's elbow had not been "up her arse..."

We rounded the bend and as we heard the clammering, our hearts beat a little harder, a little faster and our pace picked up.

The last two obstacles: a mud pit with barbed wire above it and fire pits to jump.  We looked for a "good spot" but there was none.  We simply had to wallow. And wallow we did.  I was really happy to see Cheech and hear him cheering for me.  I loved seeing my son run along side yelling for his "warrior".

We did it.  We finished together, laughing and hugging, drying in the warm sun. There was mud in our ears and "hay in our asses". I could not have been happier to be with my fellow warriors.

What a great race; grand time, and wonderful memory.

I hope you enjoy the pictures. I thank you for all the encouragement and support. This was fantastic and we have begun to discuss next year's event already.

I can't frickin wait.
HOOYAH!
Enjoy your night. I'm heading for a hot tub soak worthy of a warrior.  My bruises will heal in a few days but my smile will not fade, I think for weeks.

A warrior's view

WPS

There is nothing better than this song.  Not being part of the military, only serving in the USO, I have such tremendous respect and admiration for their bravery, honor, and dedication.  They are the TRUE warriors, enduring much more than a few push ups and diet changes.

I'm simply faking it this weekend.
But my hat IS cooler.
This is it guys.  What I've worked so hard for.  I must leave and pick up some other warriors from the airport.  Wish me luck. Giggle and point and we'll be back together soon.

Thank you for all your encouragement and well wishes.
HOO-firetruckin_YAH.

The Warrior Song Lyrics

WPS

I have always loved this song.  It has gotten me through some difficult times and gotten me beyond some uglier people.

So yes. I AM a survivor. Let's go. Who's with me? I hear crickets....
Ok, you don't have to go. I'll tell you all about it when I get back.

Can you give me just a little hooyah?
Hold my hand. I'm nervous.

Destiny's Child - "Survivor" (lyrics)

Fix it

I say that a lot to the kids when I have gotten to "two" and don't want to "release the Cracken" so to speak.

I'll give you a couple of the latest and best examples.

Daddy said put the weeds you pull in the grass and he will mow them up.

So one kid, who is oblivious that there is even a family living in this house with them, is upstairs playing music and rolling around on the carpet reading...or whatever...This child never hears me.

Kid 2 comes flying down the stairs, barrells out the door and quickly begins to weed and bag them.

All righty. Beggars cant be choosers; until kid 1 comes into play.

Kid one goes outside and begins to yell at kids 2 who is already finished with their half of the chore.  Kid one is bent because now they have to do their half alone.  Kid 2 is still bagging so kid one rips said bag and dumps picked weeds onto my bistro.  They begin to have a cage match.  They are unaware that I can see them and hear them (swearing at each other: "You're such an ass."  "Yeah? Well you're a turd. A smelly diarrhea turd") through the open windows and slider.  I stand cocking my head with puzzlement. Have I truly bore children this stupid?  They are so busy exchange Indian Rope Burns and pulling hair that I give myself away with a laugh. 

 They freeze and stare at me. I say nothing  but "Fix it" and leave their view.  I really just went around the corner where I could get the video camera in case we were about to witness a $10,000 moment...or evidence for a trial. You never know and they are SO close together... Well, they did. They fixed it; by having a weed/dirt fight.  Not quite what I had in mind, but they did what I asked. And it was fixed.

Then of course we had dinner. I fixed peas, a favorite of the kids (and not the canned grey kind for those of you who are wondering....) The phone rang and I began a quick chat with a friend.  I heard the kids begin to snap at each other:

"Don't eat it all!"
"You've had twelve helpings. Pig."
"Have not!"
"I haven't had ANY"

I pop my head in and hiss.  They look up to see me put my index finger in the air.  I shuffle out and continue my conversation.  So do they:

"Why do you ALWAYS take it all?"
"What do you care? You always throw it out or fake like you eat it."
"Do not"
"Do TOO"

I sigh and hustle out to the table.  I smack my hand on it and show them deadly serious bunny ears. "Two" I mouthe and walk out with apologies to my friend who has heard it and proclaims she understands and can't wait for the inevitable. 

"Do NOT take them ALL you HOG!" is shouted as if someone has tried to steal their lungs.

I feel my lips flip inside my mouth tightly (a trait I inherited from my father when the lashing out is about to begin...Thanks Pop) and rip the door from its hinges.  I wisk into the room like a hurricane with the phone turned up away from my mouth so my friend cannot hear my shrieking like a wounded banshee. "Waaaaaat are youuuuu DOOOOOOIIIIIING~" my voice cracks with fury.  My eyes are wild and stabbing at each of my two children who know the line has been crossed. They are shovelling dinner into their mouths as fast as they can because they are certain they will never eat again. "I am ON the phone! Fix it or suffer the consequences!"

"She took them all" Boo pouts.

Then I see it.

My daughter opens her mouth and spits the remainder of the peas she has been cheeking into the serving bowl and passes it to her brother.

"Here." she says sweetly.

I am speechless and fighting a laughing fit unequalled by anything I've seen in six months. I hear a tinkling noise and realize my friend is doing the exact same thing but failing. I realize I have just lost. I look away and try to spot something serious on the wall, but the paint is a shoft shade of green...like peas...and this fuels a fire I wish was never lit. I push the bowl in front of her and tell her to eat them. All. And if I ever see it again she will eat the entire bag of peas I own...the two pound family fun pack. I reassure her that she will be pooping green pellets if she does and I WILL make her pack her lunch every day until they are gone.  I put the phone to my still tittering pal and we stroll out of the room.  I feel mildly victorious. She was punished and the meal is almost finished...until I hear "You're an ass."

Now this is the SECOND time I"ve heard this.  It's not a common saying in my house, let alone in front of my kids so I wander out and THIS time I am sure that they see/hear me say good bye to my friend.  She ends with "Uh-oh. Fight the good fight" and I cross my arms, chewing my cheek thoughtfully.  My son is staring through the table.  My daughter has a pea shell stuck to her bottom lip.

"I beg your pardon?"

silence.

"What did you just say?"

panicked silence.

"Get up. NOW."

And this is where the scene from Christmas Story plays out.  Ralphie eats soap, Randy cries and Mom sighs a lot wondering just what in the name of the holiday she is supposed to do.

It was Irish Spring. She gagged. Ben said he was sorry a hundred times and I did my best to do it right.

to fix it.

Better days.  Be glad it was you and not me.  And by the way? Who is the wise ass that has my "Raising Children" manual??? It was a LOANER!!! Give it BACK!

WPS

Who couldn't put this song up? Really. I had to. 

Getting ready. Let's pray for an injury free event....
Hooyah.

Eye of the Tiger lyrics

WPS

Okay,
Cheesy and the video is one of the worst ever made unless you are a Maybeline rep and are trying to get your eyeshadow sold.

No guys, I don't point my fingers like guns and go "pow pow" when I'm through. Nor will I when the finish line is crossed.

hooyah?

Scandal - The Warrior With Lyrics

WPS

This is it. I have butterflies and I know that I will struggle to find sleep this week. 
The trash talk has begun.  The uniforms are coming together. We are about to become unstoppable.

We are warriors.
Hooyah.

The Final Countdown - Europe (with lyrics)

Life Saving Skills of Jimmy Buffet

The hole in her heart simply would not heal. She’d given it time just as all the foolish sages advised.  Of course, they had their families intact; their loved ones still within a heart’s beat.  After their pontification and grand-standing, she was by herself with their ill-informed, careless revelations based on nothing they’d ever experienced.  Justin was gone and Jenna was lost.  She was left alone with her cowardly low-burning lavender candle.

“Not that it matters.” She moped to it, swallowing again.  She closed her eyes against the bitter scratch of the pills.  Her belly churned and gurgled in protest.  Her response was to grind her teeth and eat some more small, soon-to-be-soothing tablets.  The warm hum began in her knees.  It bit her nerves as it ambled along under her flesh.  She sighed, welcoming the numbness; the quiet that she hoped would become forever.  Her gulping slowed and her fingers stopped working, allowing her solution in a bottle to slip from her hands, spilling the remainder of hope onto the floor.

Sound warbled from the blue light of the squawk box but she had trouble hearing.   A ringing began to fill her shell.  She cocked her head, confused and tired.  The world tilted, making her dizzy and nauseas.  She tasted salt and began to wretch.  Jenna knew this would come.  She’d been prepared.  Lolling forward, her forehead clunked drunkenly against the bucket in her lap.  She didn’t want to leave a mess for anyone.  Not like he did…no...No...No mess.  The words clicked slowly in her brain.  She began to lose control and fall away.  There was fear, but no sadness.  No one was left to care.

At first she thought the wind moved her hair back out of the mess of sick but then:

“Jenna”

Her name thundered through her chest like a psychedelic Sousa march. She grunted in the bucket.

“What have you done here, Sweetie?”

She spat and twitched but no words. “Ha-ha! You’re too late to scold me…” her clouded mind laughed in the deadly fog. 

Another  touch.  Her eyes rolled forward to see who was screwing up her suicide.  Not even her death could go as planned she snarled inside.

Justin stood filmy and cool in front of her.

“Ohhhh Jenna~ no.” he purred sadly

“Oh Hell YES” she mumbled. “I’m so done here. I want to be with you. Wait for me. I’m coming”

“No Baby. Not like this.” He whispered kissing her forehead.  It was cold but she radiated  warmth within which sparked her enough to hoist her head back up to her shoulders. She pouted her lips which sounded like a fatigued raspberry noise.

“You promised.” She slurred through tears. “..to love me.”

“But I do. Even more now.”

“NO JUSTIN! Love me from HERE. You said Forever and dammit, I’m gonna hold you to that. You said you’d always be HERE!”

“I am.” His voice was quiet.

“Bull. THIS doesn’t count. “And she angrily waved through him.  Her head bobbled as she continued:

“It’s no fun anymore. None of this is any good without you.  We were going to go to Paris…see the world…now nothing.  I’m empty.”

The ghost peeked into the bucket. “Or close to it…”

She snorted and choked.  Her world began to spin.

“See? Even death is fun with you.” But it sounded more like “Def ee fuh wi---yooo”  “I want to be with you. I don’t want to live without you.”

He sighed and she shivered. “But Jenna It’s not your time.  I was sent ahead to try it on first.”

She snorted. “You lie”

“Jenna- it’s sad for me too.  I’ve seen the rest of your life and it’s beautiful; happy, but without me.  I was supposed to hold you.  I wanted to make you laugh and cry with you until we were tired and ran out of breath.  There’s nothing I want more than for you to come with me; join me, but it’s not right.  I can’t be with you or see you if you do this.  Stay where you belong and I WLL be there. Watching ~ a warm gust of wind on a cold day, a song on your mind. Don’t let me die twice Jenna.”

“Nobody’s going to love me. “ Her breath was slowing; her words drifting into the empty room, echoing.  “It’s too late.”

“Jenna, fight.  You can take it back.  Let me love you from here.” He was pleading now.

“Here?” she heard him but couldn’t understand.  He sounded as if he were under water.  “Who’s here? I tired Jutin...” and the seizure slammed into her.  Her body jolted as electricity swam like a river of bees in her veins.  She coughed, her body tightening, even her eyes were screaming.  “Justin!” she tried to yell but no sound, only gurgles and mewling.  The drugs grabbed at her throat; crushing it closed.  Darkness tingled her vision, then swept in. Jenna fell away.

Her next thought was “Stink.”  Her nose screeched at the offensive smell.  Her eyes fought to stay closed.  “Not a good sign” she thought glumly. “Is this what Hell is like?” Someone touched her hair.  She sighed and relaxed, reaching for the hand.

“Justin?”Her eyes gave in and opened.

He was unfamiliar. His hair was thick and curly. His eyes were green and gentle.  He studied her.

“Ms. Moorman? Can you hear me?”

She looked sadly around. “Where?”

“You are in the hospital. There was quite a bit of medication in your body.  What have you done here Sweetie?” He began to write and watch her. She scowled.

“Did you save me?”

“Yes.” He smiled lightly. “Yes. I did.”

“You douche bag.  I did it on purpose. I don’t want to be here anymore. I need to be with Justin.”

“Yes. Well, he doesn’t want that.” He carelessly clicked his pen and continued to write.

“What the Hell would you know?”

“I know that I liked you better when you were sleeping.” He added dryly.

Jenna rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Look, just dump me into psyche. I can bullshit my way through a seven day eval and get back to my business.”

He paused. “No. Justin doesn’t want that either.”

“Would you STOP? You don’t know WHAT you’re talking about.”

“No? Well, he thought you might feel that way. But we’ll have none of it. You’ll stay. He said he doesn’t want to have to wash the bucket again. He can watch you just fine from here.”

She froze. “What?”

He winked. “From here.” Clicked his pen and left the room.

The nurse’s station hummed with activity and music: Jimmy Buffet’s “He went to Paris”

She closed her eyes and let the tears flow.

A warm breeze filled her room with the smell of hope and lavender.


I think it's a little sing-songy and simple; maybe a bit choppy.  I like it overall and think it is powerfull in its own rite.  I struggled with this; a nightmare I had that (unlike the others) was very cloudy and hard to remember. But as I say, not everything I write is the best thing I've ever written.  I hope you enjoyed it.

More importantly, I hope you know I enjoyed your visit.  I will be very busy getting ready for my race. We will catch up the first of the week and laugh about it all.

See you soon. Have a good day...several in a row, in fact.