As many peopel across the country are dig out of the snow, wait on santa, eat Christmas dinner, I have spent the day preparing for a trip to New Orleans and scolding myself for not doing my blog or writing enough this last week. I hear my negative self talk shouting in my head, and other people's negative self talk filling the room. So what should I do? Give up, end this years goals before the year even starts.
Nope not this time.
Instead I pulled out my phone and began typing. Just to get a blog started. But really because all I wanted for Christmas was to write, and no one was stopping me from writing. Unless I look in the mirror. So like a two year old, I put metaphorical fingers in my ears and go nananana to drown out all the noise around me, and type. But type what? This blog but what else. Letting my mind drift...
Snow, Christmas, travel: all bring to mind an old Christmas movie" I Have Been Dreaming of A White Christmas", used to watch with my mom and grandma; before they passed. I quite the noise around me shutting the world off and let my mind drift to old movies and love stories, dancing and singing. I begin my story...
She stands, sad, lonely looking into the restaurant's window at people eating fancy dinners in fancier clothes. The wind bites through the thin fabric of her coat reminding her winter is here. She can almost taste the burgundy sauce, and prime rib, potatoes, carrots; the smell of bread makes her salivate, turning she walks into the city away from a life no longer hers and back into her new reality.
Reality the ever shifting landscape around her, a mirage she is never fully equipped to handle this is her new life, the old one died on an untended vine. Waundering, wondering and willfully she lingers for a heart beat between her past, present and future of possibilities then steps into traffic. Cars whiz by someone honks, no one stops. She emerges from the traffic she on the other side of street and the veil.
The city gone, a seaside town stands in its stead the roar of a storm approaching makes her shiver even as the temperature rises around her.
The loss of love ones lingers on her, a stench of death a cloud that follows her even as she runs across her multitude of worlds. Never staying, always hoping one day to find him again.
So an impromptu section of The Veil a story i had considered shelving for good. Maybe it still has potential?
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