The Haunting

This has been the toughest thing in my life; being dead. It's a lot harder than people think, if they think about it. I never used to and now I wish I had.

My death was an accident. My aorta tore open and they couldn't patch me up.  I thought I just had some gas pains. Uhhh, guess I missed that one by a mile. I realized I was gone when I saw myself. That floating around outside and above yourself is true.  It's scary but cool at the same time until you understand that you can never go back to share it with everyone; tell them you are okay; there is no pain... lalala... nope. It's just lights out and you see yourself through a filmy veil.

They had a nice service for me. There were a lot of tears; even my own.  They picked the wrong dress and nobody did my nails. The reception afterward was kickin though and that was JUST what I wanted.  Me? I heard it all like I was leaning against a wall with a glass to my ear.  I paced around a lot; lost but searching. I talked to them when they spoke to me; or to God when they were angry and sad but no one heard.  I wanted to hold them and help. I couldn't communicate no matter how I tried.  I wish I'd have taken up an interest in ghost hunting.

So I waited.  I hung around. Where? Well, I'm not sure.  I think I spent some time at the hospital.  That was a dark place that smelled like pee pots and alcohol. Or it could have been a bar. I have been in some seedy places.. Lots of noise. Vision is something that you lose in death.  Hearing and feeling are your best resources.  I felt a lot; sadness, anger, frustration... the emotions become your conversation.  I learned to project them to make myself known.  I know I did this because I heard the night crew talking about how sad they were when they were in my room. Then  I floated.  I don't know what else to call it.  I spent a little time at the cemetery.  I looked at my grave and the other graves.  We can't always see each other; ghosts I mean.  I felt them.  Boy there were some pissed off souls in there lemme tell ya and those folks in those tiny "grave houses"... wow they are totally vicious; like wild animals. They growl and snap as you go by. They try to trick you in to coming near because they want to use you as a vessel to get out.  They are trapped in there somehow. Wow. I was happy just sitting on the bench and looking at my flowers. Cemeteries are peaceful places.  It's full of life if you just take the time to feel it.  I met some nice people. We talked sometimes about our lives but we all leave there. We search for a little something more... familiar.

At last I floated to my house.  It smelled like stew in the crock pot and fresh laundry.  I love that smell.  It drew me ... I went home.  I could hear them; my family. They were still sad. I lost track of time, but I didn't think it had been too long.  I wandered around the halls and sat with them.  I listened to their heavy sighs and felt their sense of loss.  Loss is a big word when it comes to life.  They didn't care about cleaning anymore.  The toilet bowls needed a little scrub.  The kitchen floor wanted to be mopped and the dust was begging for a healthy shot of pledge.  Meals were pretty quiet with fractions of  the conversations we used to share; once filled with laughter, teasing, even a few tantrums and tears... this was all gone. It was numb.  That broke my heart.  No one should be numb. Even ghosts feel.

I was watching my family die right behind me. Well I couldn't have that so I began to haunt.  I was waiting around on God or the Devil or SOMEONE to accept me or turn on the light or something but it wasn't happening and I quite frankly had the time.

I started out slowly at first because I was a good ghost, I didn't want to frighten them; especially my youngest.  I would visit him after school while he was struggling with his algebra.  It started as a breeze while I tried to give him answers.  He didn't  notice at first but then as I got better, he became aware. He would stop to listen for me or feel my presence.  He even asked "Who's there?" Well I was getting pretty cocky at that stage so I flipped my picture near his nightstand.  He ran out and slept in the den. I was frustrated.  But after a couple of days, he began to address me. "Mom? Is that you?" Well I was pleased as punch lemme tell ya. I rushed in to hug him and tousle his hair.  I shouted yes as loud as my non voice would allow.  He must have caught it on his phone or something because he played it back.  It was garbled and weak but I was there.  We were communicating.  He reacted like my son... "Cool." with a head bob and a slip of the headphones.  He went back to ignoring me.  But he spoke to me in the morning before school.  He said goodnight to me before sleep.  I felt alive again.

Next came my daughter.  She was in her own little world so I knew it would be a tougher sale to pitch.  But I was getting better.  My son's acknowledgment seemed to give me strength.  I began by moving her stuff around that we used to share; clothes, jewelry.. simple.  She immediately charged in and smacked the crap out of her brother with angry accusations and threats.  He told her it was me. He knew what I was doing.  She hit him harder through some bitter tears and stormed out.  I followed her.  She cried hugging her pillow and muttered about what a sick jerk he was.  I sat next to her wishing I could hold her. This was really hard. I turned on her light and moved my picture a little.  That takes a lot of ghostly strength let me confess.  She watched with terror then she asked; just like my son.  I was so happy I screamed and grabbed her like we had won the charade championship of the world.  I flipped the lights on and off quickly and opened her closet door repeatedly (this I felt was a sure sign since i was always nagging about having it closed ~ your hang ups can be beneficial in a haunting) She sat very still and listened.  I shouted her nick name but it came as a whisper. However it was enough.She smiled, wiped her eyes and told me she missed me. Then she called her best friend Casey and went out for the first time in weeks. Maybe months. It was hard for me to tell.  Death can do that to you

And so we were a family again. I made my presence known to each of them at different times during the day.  My son, being the late sleeper and slow poke in the morning, would be my first visit of the day.  I would gently come to him and wake him; tug his blankets or whisper to him.  My daughter was a a night owl.  I enjoyed catching her on the phone or her electronics passed permission of her dad. She rolled her eyes when I drained their batteries and I loved hearing that teenage "Mooooooom!" as she softly smiled and rolled over.

Their dad. Oh how I missed him. I was devastated to see his weight loss and his slumping through the house ~ so lost and alone. I missed his laughter and the twinkle in his eye. At night I would sit in our room; on our bed.  Sometimes I would even lie with him.  He had pulled so far into himself I almost felt as if I was intruding; a guest.  I was certain that I could help him; make it easier in his heart if I made myself known.  The kids were already on board and so it seemed like a natural progression; the best for last.

But he didn't respond. He didn't hear me or see me.  He seemed oblivious.  Even when the kids hinted or suggested that it was me: the lights, the TV on and off, the shadows and cold spots.He dismissed it.  But I noticed he was awake at night and I saw him listening; watching.  I thought he was coming around.  I just had to be patient.  I saw the Christmas tree go up and so I at least had a time frame.  I had missed my second Christmas.  I wanted to share that with them. With him. I hid the wrapping paper and moved ornaments on the tree. I unplugged the lights and made sure carols were played every night.

Then one day I felt something strange.  I felt anger.  I went downstairs to find the kids thinking there had been a spat; teens ARE teens after all.  Nothing. They weren't home.  I noticed my husband pacing through the house and checking the windows; waiting.

A car pulled up and a woman got out.  Oh Lord had I missed it?Had he found someone new? Oh I was sheepish and embarrassed.  I followed him around trying to explain as loudly as I could. I moved things and tipped our picture ~ "It's okay. You are allowed to live..." I tried to show him.

the woman came in and hesitated.  She smiled and they spoke softly.  She began to stroll through the house touching all of our things.  I wasn't happy about this.  She then spoke to me directly.

"Do you wish to communicate?"

I knocked.

"Do you wish to harm?"

nothing.

"This is dangerous ~" she said solemnly.

I was stunned. Dangerous? I began to flick the lights. I shifted things and drained the camera batteries she brought in.  I needed my husband to hear me.

"Show yourself you coward." she snapped.

Coward? Really? I began to feel frustration with this woman who didn't know jack crap about me so I thought I would do just that. I would make the shadow the kids had become accustomed to.  He would see me, hear me and then he would understand. I could save him, maybe even love him again.  But as I did this and as I shouted his name, our anniversary and that I missed him the woman swooped in.  She had a smudging stick burning.  It sickened me.  She began to pray and draw salt circles.  They stung and burned me.  I couldn't see or hear.  She told me it wasn't my house.  She told me I wasn't wanted.  I fought though. I swung the chandelier in the hall. The one I had begged for like a child at Lowe's.  I threw the pillow across the room; the one I had embroidered at girl scout camp when our daughter was little and I'd had to sleep on a wood plank in sweltering heat.  I did everything I could but I was feeling weak. Ill.  I couldn't hear them. I had trouble seeing.  Then the kids came home from school.  They ran to the circle and kicked at it.  They cried and begged her to stop

It was too late.  I felt the pull.  My house began to fade away around me. I was crying and scrambling to reach them.  I called to them one last time. I told them I was safe. I loved them. I would wait.
And the woman smiled, turned and said. The spirit has moved on.  There will be no more disturbance.

I was stunned at having just been exercised from my home; cast out of my life. Now I don't know where to go. It's like my key doesn't work in the lock. It's dark here. Cold. I'm lonely and sad. I wander around and listen for voices; life. When I hear them, I go toward them, feeling comfort and warmth.~ like a light. I am careful though to stay back and not infringe. That is a painful lesson I don't want to learn twice.

This is my future? My eternity? It seems so empty and anticlimactic. If you can read this or if you hear me, don't be afraid. I'm simply looking for a family. I want some company.

Let me in?


I really like this one. It came to me after a long talk with a friend. I know the end is a little jumbled, but the overall pull is there. I hope you enjoyed it too. Thanks for coming over to hang out . It's always nice to see you.  I hope you had a great weekend. Until next time, enjoy your days.

Reformation

Tucker sat nervously in his room; waiting.  It was all he had left to do.  They alone were the ones who could decide his fate; would he be set free? Would he need to stay a bit longer ~ for "reformation" assurance? If there was a God, tucker prayed he would set him free.  In his mind he went back to laying bricks.  He stacked them up one by one; deep and red with creamy white mortar delicately spread and smushed between.  One by one... brick by brick... he felt his mind relax and focus on its assigned task; laying bricks.

The man came for him at last.  He stood outside, tapping lightly with the encouragement stick.  It was essentially an electric cattle prod used to encourage people like Tucker to stay inside the lines, so to speak.  Tucker got off his bed and waited patiently by the door until the man tapped again; the sign to come out and begin to walk down the hall to where they waited; to judge him.

"Move along Tucker." was the thick calm voice. Tucker looked and smiled slightly at the guard.  Nothing more than a grunt and a wave of the stick.  The prisoner did as he was expected.  His mind shifted gears and began to build a little faster. brick. Brick. Brick. More needed. Brick. Brick.

The hall smelled of burned sugar and rancid meat; sickening and pungent. Tucker moved his arm across his nose to stifle the gag and wipe his eyes. Between his shoulders he felt a warning poke from the guard.

"Arms down Tucker. You know better."

"Sorry Sir" he said crisply and straightened up. Almost there.  The door was a heavy metal door with one small rectangular window just above normal view.  It was so thickly painted brown that even now, after all these years, it created a stinging, waft of a fresh coat. This time Tucker just wiggled his nose and sniffed.  No poke from the escort.  Another dozen bricks were in place. He closed his eyes tightly, whispered in his mind a quick prayer and waited for admittance.

"Won't help you Tucker." came the other man's voice softly, tickling inside his ear like a dry itch. Tucker raised his shoulder as if to stop it from getting in to his mind. "I been watchin you.  Ain't nothin been reformed. You're still the same; a failure, a disappointment.  You ain't goin nowhere. Not after what YOU done." 

Tucker dropped his gaze for a moment, took a deep breath and suppressed the memory.  It was what the guard was supposed to do; rile him up a bit, open his mind, scratch at the would and reopen it.  It would make the interview more...real and honest.

Brick. Brick. Brick.

The guard chuckled and nudged him forward with the stick.  "See you later Tucker." and backed up as the metal door clanged and screamed open heavy with rust and reproach.

"Ahhh Mr. Tucker. Do come in and sit down if you please." The room was dark along the walls where they sat high up in pompous comfortable chairs. The only light was a rakish spotlight shining on a single chair where Tucker was expected to go.  He did so silently; bricks smacking together hurriedly in his mind the mortar slagging down the faces of the hastily laid rectangles. He struggled to maintain his breath slow and steady.  He fought the racing of his heart. He said the word over rhythmically in his head to refocus his energy and strength; for he was surely going to need them when the interview was in full swing.

'Thank you all." he said and sat slowly.  He didn't bother to look around or strain to see their faces.  It would all be clear enough in just a short while.

"Now. Tucker, are you ready to begin your reformation interview?"

"Yes I am, Sir." He breathed deeply, deliberately and forced his face and shoulders to release the tension they were gathering. Another brick in place.  

"You remember how this works Tucker? How the interview will go?" The voice seemed to come from everywhere followed by a thousand whispering nods.  Of course he remembered; as did they. Last time he had not even tried to hide his thoughts from them.  They were angry; furious at what they saw when they looked inside his mind. Oh the punishment had been horrendous. They tore at his flesh, they twisted his thoughts by speaking to him all the time; those faceless hungry voices.  They told him all he had to do. He had to admit his sin, his taboo behaviour, ask for help and they would save him: from himself of course; his horrible self; one so weak and vile that they struggled to find a reason to permit him to live.  Tucker would have gladly died.  He showed them that as well but they only used it as torture for him.  They took him to the brink, the edge and then slowly, painfully brought him back again and again.

Just one more brick.

Slow deliberate steps approached him; a shadowy figure. Tucker did not look up. It didn't matter who it was. The review board was all the same. They glared, made notes and waited for you to show a moment of weakness.  Then they would pounce and break you apart, rip you down so you fit into their mold; their ideal. Believe what they believe; no matter how wrong.

He sighed and waited. The figure brusquely flipped his arm and injected the chemical. Warmly it slithered through his veins.  Tucker felt woozy.  Everything sounded and felt spongy; movements were choppy and slow.  The interviewers crept up and sat tightly around him.  He smelled mint and cinnamon lightly masking  the sweaty mud and decay that could not be covered up with their stupid candies.

"And so we begin Tucker. We will decide if you have been reformed."

His head drifted slowly in the direction of the echoing voice. "Knock yourselves out. Let's dance Daddio"

"And do you feel remorse for your sin?" 

The prisoner chuffed lightly, surprised by their direct approach. "What sin was that?"

"The sin of flesh Mr Tucker. The sin of flesh you committed against Agatha."

His palms of his hands made small circles over the arms of the chair as he said her name. "Agatha"

"Yes. You remember her, do you not? You remember what you did to her?"

His mouth began to water as her face began to take shape in his mind. Oh yes, he remembered her. And he certainly treasured what he'd done to her.

"Treasured?" came the interruption in his thoughts like a slap toa  sunburn. Tucker had lost a couple of bricks on that one.  "You treasure what you did to her? Let's see what ELSE you think of her..." and much like a burglar rifling through a personal safe, they hunted for his memories.  They tore through his past and scoured his dreams.  Tucker prayed the bricks were strong enough to keep them out this time.  Agatha belonged to him now and always.  Their chemicals, beatings and torture could destroy his body, but not her memory.  That was all he had left.  

"It does you no good to fight us Tucker." and the pain began; smoldering and low at first for they were just revving up. "It really would be in your best interest to give in to us. We know what is best for you and we DO want to help you get better.  You are a sick man, Tucker. Let us in."

"Let ME in." came the soft lilt.

Tucker felt everything in his body tighten; like a simple wood louse would roll up and withdrawn, Tucker did the same. He began to withdraw and leave them with empty expectations.  He could not stick around for this portion of the "interview"

"Let me Tucker." and a shape moved forward from the darkness.  He knew what they were doing. He was hoping he was ready and strong enough to beat them at their game.

Agatha stood at the edge of the light. Her hair curly and dark wisped around her delicate cheeks.  Her lips were pale and full, her eyes bright and playful; just as he had remembered. They got that from his dreams he told himself.  She was dressed in the last outfit he'd seen her in; a sundress with tiny black and pink rose buds on it.  Her long fingers carelessly brushed a curl out of her eye; so absently but beautiful, he wanted to cry.  

"How do you feel Tucker? Seeing Agatha?" the voices were low, husky and cautious.

"Hungry."

silence.

"What?"

"Hungry."

"How? What is it you hunger for?" he had their interest now. This could tip it all in his favor if he did it right.

"Like a man in the desert who sees an oasis. I thirst. I want.  I recognize need."

"For WHAT" came the question with an edge so sharp he winced back as if cut.

"blood."

silence.

"Go on Tucker.  You need to say it all to us. We will see it anyway." and his head thobbed to prove their point.  

Tucker took a deep breath and began to describe to them a great feast; one of torn flesh and decadent blood.  He giggled about the consumption of Agatha; the sweet song her cries and terror would ring in his ears.  He breathed deeply at the hot smell of copper as her life's water ran thick and crimson into cups for them all to share.  He would carve her like a Christmas ham and gladly share the spoils of his victory over Agatha. She was prized pig of the fair and though her muscles would make the meat a bit tough, a little marinade with a demi glaze of shallots, rosemary and drizzle of espresso balsamic would give it just the right flavor.  He smiled hungrily, licked his lips and rolled his hands neatly across his belly as if satiated. the image of Agatha disappeared from the circle of light.

He waited as they hissed amongst themselves.  He could imagine them pointing and accusing; uncertain, for he had never said any of this before.  They had never seen it in his thoughts.  When the Wendigos captured him and read his initial thoughts, they were appalled.  He wasn't any thing like them.  He didn't understand that humans were a foodstuff; a hearty one at that. The Wendigos had hid themselves in the mountains and deserts for centuries, leaving their existence to the folly and skepticism of human lore.  But when they were great enough in number and the sightings could be ignored no longer, they rose to fight and conquer the weak, unsuspecting frightened humans, chased them in to their one time homes and remote areas like scared rabbits. Now humans were hunted.  Tucker had at last seen that; been reformed. With the nightly dreams they "suggested" and the diet they fed him, he really had no option.  He was to be one of them or ... food for them. It was his choice.  He had made the right one they decided.  And so he would be discharged with a guardian and given a chance.  If he reverted to his taboo, the guardian would simply follow him to the humans and a hunting party shortly dispatched to clear the area. He would be made to watch of course and forced to take part then he would be put down.  All unclean animals need to be put down.

It was agreed.  Tucker was helped back to his chamber and told to wait.

Tucker prayed the bricks were in place; intact. 

At last the guardian was sent to turn him out.  A friendly clap on  the shoulder and a hearty "Go get em boy." with a laugh that stunk of death and rot. Tucker wiggled his nose and grinned.  

"You bet. You a leg man?" he joked. 

"Ahhh no... wing!" returned the man and folded his arm behind him and wiggle his pointed out elbow.  They laughed together bumping gently like a couple of drunks.

The guardian stopped and nodded at Tucker.  

"you comin, friend?" The recently paroled man asked.

'Nah. I'll see you later.  They showed me your review.  I'm comfortable letting you go tonight.  You projected quite a party in there.  They were happy and impressed.  No one thought you would ever... come along."


"I guess it isn't true what they say. You CAN teach an old dog..." and he grinned a little too hard raising his eyebrows.

The guardian guffawed and slapped his knee.  "Gooood one. Oh that's just rich. I have your paperwork to do and then I'll catch you in the morning.  Remember Tucker... I'll always catch you." and he paused, but smiled and left the newly released prisoner alone in the streets; streets filled with what looked like humans, acted like humans but were only voracious filthy hunters; predators.

Tucker caught himself before the thoughts and nausea came over him.  It would project like a stink bomb and he would be torn to pieces by those on the streets sensing him as a human or he would be returned to the chamber.  If he was going to do this he had to go all the way; stay in character.

He went to the building he was told to and checked in.  They offered him a meal which he said he would take in his room.  They brought it and he almost lost it all.  The sickness washed through him at breakneck speed, but he cocked his head and took a big sniff, fighting back the vomit and gagging.  His stomach lurched and the house leader mistook it for a hungry growl, so with a smile of approval, he left his new charge.  Tucker sat on the bed and watched night drape the city.  He paced and made his plans.  Daylight peeked in and he stretched, making his room up and getting ready to go.

His guardian did not come for breakfast, so Tucker knew he would not join him on his trip.  He would be lagging behind and watching; calling in to the Board.  But Tucker had thought this through and was ready. There were enough bricks left to help him make it back; to Agatha.

He walked through town and nodded to all of the "people". No one actually spoke. There were mental acknowledgments both good and bad.  He got to the edge and began to head out.  He knew the guardian would come soon.

"Hey Tucker wait up." 

Tucker smiled.

"Where you headed?"

"Just walkin. I don't like the smell in the city.  I want to be out here. I think there is more to ... see...." he paused.

"Well the Board really prefers that you stay with us a little longer to make sure you are...adjusting."  his teeth were all very pointed and sharp.

"but I promised a party."

"No one expects you to deliver on such things so soon Tucker. Relax. Enjoy.  There are some young ones down at the butcher shop.  You could easily have one or two of those."

Tucker's mouth was filled with salt and bitter disgust. "Eh. weak little squealers?"

The guardian laughed. "I know exactly what you mean and they are such a mess but it might be better for you to start small."

Tucker had saved a rib bone from the meal he had hidden inside his mattress the night before. He had sharpened one side and kept it closed in his hand.  Now was the time.  He moved swiftly to swing at the neck of the guardian.  The strike had to be perfectly on target.  If he missed his throat, the Wendigo could still communicate with the Board and they would know about the bricks.  They would come for him; for Agatha. The guardian crumpled quickly and Tucker kept slicing.  All the things he'd said that repulsed him came through as he stabbed the beast over and over.  He carved it like an eight point prized buck removing all identifying things; including the head. He tucked it in a plastic bag he'd brought form his carnivorous half way house and began to head out.  He would go a day East before doubling back and going around the perimeter of the city.  Agatha was on the other side.  He had done this to protect her from what anyone else might have seen as he and his guardian were walking.

Tucker walked for six days, being sure to stay out of sight.  He hid himself at night when the Wendigos hunted and moved swiftly through the woods during the day.

At last he could smell them; humans, Agatha.  His heart began to pound inside his chest.  He began to run.  A sudden crackle to his left stopped him short. He crouched and waited; slowing his senses to take in all around him. There was movement.  He lifted his nose and breathed deeply. It was Agatha. The soft dark curl swept around her cheek.  she was stalking a rabbit. He stood and shouted to her.  She turned her arrow on him at first but slowly lowered it.  She stared disbeleivingly at the man who stood before her. He took one step then another then seemingly ten more as he rushed to hold her.  She dropped her weapon and opened her arms.  Tears streaked her cheeks. She said his name over and over as he neared.

Her voice penetrated his brain and warmed it.  There was hunger washing through him; the desire to taste her soft sweet mouth as she sang his name against his skin.  He wanted to taste her flesh as it pricked with goosebumps under his touch and kiss.  He needed to feel the warmth of her body as he held her, reacquainted himself to her.

"Agatha." he laughed to the trees, to the sun.  His eyes watered at the sight of her beauty and the thoughts she was sending him. She wanted to kiss his body, to feel him inside her. He was the one she loved.  He picked up the pace to reach her.

She fell into him and rained kisses on his scraggly face.  She laughed and cried and touched him over and over.  "You. It's you. It's you." she kept whispering between sweet tender kisses.

He leaned back to see her face in the sun and trace her delicate face and neck with his thumbs.  He kissed her throat and pulled at her shirt.  Tugging eagerly, he kissed her body as he unbuttoned and removed her shirt. Her hands circled his shoulders and raked his hair.  He felt her breath in excited gasps as he nuzzled her breasts, caressed the flat of her stomach and tugged at her pants.  Her fingers grew tighter then relaxed.  He felt a tear heavily plop on the top of his head.

"Don't cry my beautiful Agatha." He mumbled against her skin. "I'm here. I'm here forever."

Another tear.

He paused and another fell then a trickle; heavy and thick pooled down the side of his head and on to his shoulder. He raised his eyes.  Blood spilled down Agatha's headless neck and onto Tucker's face, into his mouth, sad, bitter. The Wendigo stood behind her, his claws clutching her thick luscious curls.  He had tilted her head to the side,drinking from the broken wound.  Agatha's body began to crumple down onto Tucker who screamed and skittered away; horrified, repulsed by the vision.

The Wendigo looked curiously at him and shrugged.

"Reformation ~ failed." it said through a gargle of Agatha's crimson love and turning, with a wry smile, it walked away, leaving Tucker utterly destroyed.


Should I have warned you? You know how I love the Bogeyman! I wanted to put a creepy spin on the theory of the Wendigo. I hope you liked it and maybe even looked over your shoulder. I know I did. :) Well, I want you to enjoy what's left of your weekend. I will see you soon. Thanks for coming over, I hope you had as much fun as I did.

And so my darling friends and best of fans, I sit here watching the fog and rain whimper across the icy lake and cry right alongside of it with the sad news of the death of another friend of ours. There has been entirely too much sadness and pain at the end of this year. My heart hurts at all the great losses and grief that has plagued this "joyous" season. On this ringing in of 2014 I wish to say:

Thank you,  for the blessed gifts I have been given: laughter, love, friendship, strength, hope and most importantly; time ~no matter how short,to share with those around me.  I am grateful to borrow it and do my best to fill it with kindness, hard work, and appreciation for those I care about.  I treasure the moments whether unforgettable, tender, or harsh. I understand the importance of feeling bad to permit healing, feeling better and realizing that painful journey will ease our gentle hearts, overwrought minds and kind souls, helping us to move on.

May ALL your travels be safe and your begining to 2014 gentle and smooth. Thank you for stopping here and thinking of me. I have missed all of you very much. I look forward to sharing lighter, happier news and many more fun stories in the coming year.

Happy New Year to you and yours.

With warmest hugs and much love

Tessa