Point of View

Trying my hand at a little fiction today, friends.  XOXO.

A man and a woman walk through the park together, holding hands. They pass an old woman sitting on a bench. The old woman is knitting a small, red sweater. The man begins to cry.

Why now? Why right now? I’m supposed to be happy and strong and supportive and the rock.  I can’t believe just the sight of this little old lady who I don’t even know brings tears to my eyes.  Maybe it’s because Nana is finally gone.  She fought long and hard and beat cancer three times. Who knew a little cold would turn into pneumonia and take her away from us.  She was so close to seeing her first great-grandchild.  All the sweaters she knitted during chemo are hanging in his closest.  I know she’s watching, but I miss her like crazy. I just wish I could hug her one last time.

Don’t cry, my love. I know you miss her.  But think of this like a sign. We weren’t planning to take this walk but I need to stay moving to get this baby moving. Haha. Look. This was a sign.  This was Nana’s way of telling you that she’s always around. She’s still with us.  How often do we see little old ladies in the park? And knitting?! Hardly ever. It’s getting too cold for that this time of year.  So on this unexpectedly warm day, in this park we rarely visit, we see this woman knitting a sweater for a small child…that’s not a coincidence. That’s Nana.  It’s like she sent the sun to give us one last hug.

Oh! What a beautiful, young couple! She’s due any day now it seems. Hmm… I wonder if they’re having a boy or a girl. Oh but why is he crying? They should be excited right now. He must be nervous or worried for his gal.  Don’t worry, dear. She’ll be just fine.  We women are stronger than we look. Ha. I gave birth to four of my own and with a lot less than what they’ve got in these fancy-pants hospitals nowadays.  Yep, she’ll be just fine.  I sure hope this fits ok.  Kelly’s growing so fast.  I wonder if she’ll be tall like my Michael.  And gorgeous like her mother.  She could be a model one day, but then she might be too good for like granny’s handmade sweaters.  She could be a basketball player or a professor or an engineer for heaven’s sake. Her whole life is ahead of her. Hmmm… like that baby that’s on the way. What a beautiful couple…

“Hello.”

“Hello, dear. Enjoying your walk?”

“We are.”

“It’s a beautiful day.”

“It sure is. Makes you feel warm inside. As if someone’s watching from up there and decided to reach back for a hug.”

(Pausing with surprise) “I was thinking the same thing.”

Snapshot

Imagine this.

On your morning commute you discover a note in the bushes.

A love letter.

Your skeptical heart didn’t believe in the kind of love you see in the movies. The kind of love that produces handwritten letters such as this, so you read it.

The words move you with their expression of longing, joy, madness, passion, a sense of completion that only the recipient could provide. You almost fall in love with the stranger.

Immediately you wonder where the owner of this letter could be.

Then you see it.

In the last line.

They’re gone.

Losing It

Today’s post is the first part in a three-part series.

Some times I think my life could be described as a repeated process of losing and finding myself.  With each it loss, I shed a piece of myself that I don’t need anymore. I take with me some lessons learned, I discover some new traits, but my core is rediscovered and solidified.

Here’s a little background on who I am.  I’m the youngest of three children. I have two older brothers. My father and mother were very involved and supportive of their daughter growing up and still today.  One of my best friends in high school was a guy and I trusted him more than some of the girl friends I had back then.

So, when I went off to college I had an absence of male companions. I was used to positive affirmations and validation from males.  Well, long story short, I went looking for that affirmation in the wrong places and the wrong ways.  I played that game for a couple of years before I realized that wasn’t really getting me anywhere.

I got more connected to a local church, and the gospel choir, and was baptized while in college. I came back a little stronger from the place I’d been in and was starting to build my own confidence up instead of looking for external validation.

When I went off to graduate school for my master’s degree. I felt a surge of independence.  I had cut most of my financial ties from my parents.  I was paying my own bills.  Going to work. Going to school.  I was supporting myself,  essentially, and it felt really good.  I was on my own for the first time.  That surge of independence was really important for me as the youngest child, and only girl in the family.

But it was the process of losing my positive male influences, getting life wrong for a little bit, and then building myself back up that made me that independent young woman that took her master’s program by storm.

It’s funny. I kinda think I peaked at 22, maybe 23.  The years at JMU (2007-2009) were awesome. Some of the greatest memories were made there.  Then I remember that I’m only 30. Don’t be so dramatic, Stace. There’s so much left to come, God willing.

My life is a series of peaks and valleys and I just need to enjoy the ride.

Be on the lookout for part 2! Coming soon.