Happy ‘Fucking’ Thursday my friends. May it be a good one.
Love, Sparkly Nee
All my bags are packed, I’m ready to go.-John Denver
Miriam was ready to start a new adventure, in Key West. At her old home, she tidied up affairs. Freed herself of all that didn’t matter anymore. Even her car.
“We always wanted to live on the beach, Honey.” she spoke into the air. “You’re in the ether now, but you’re always with me.”
Ray had been dead two years. It was her turn. To write. Run. Smile. And live.
She threw her luggage into the silly homemade car she bought. Placed his urn in the seat next to her. Drove along U.S.-1, flaming red hair dancing in the breeze.
**Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for keeping the dream of Friday Fictioneers alive. The prompt this week was an inspiring one. Not sure if I captured enough of it in my story. Please give criticism and kudos. I’m a romantic twit, but I can take it. **
Thank you Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for the prompt for this week. I think I’ve become a FriFic addict. It’s far better to be addicted to writing than other things, I guess. The genre is romance. Of course. A heartbreaker. Of course. BTW it’s the ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY of my blog. Woot, woot!!!
She held his hand and hoped she would feel something. A squeeze. Caress of the palm with a fingertip. Anything. The fireworks in the sky lit up their faces and the balmy summer night. She turned to face him. No words were exchanged. Not once did he look her way. She released his hand and turned back to the spectacle before them. She knew it was over. There was nothing left. He was done with her. With her shoes held in her left hand, she walked down the beach. Away from him. From their life. Knowing their story was over.
**My darlin’, I miss you. My darlin’, who knew. Who knew….**
“You didn’t expect to fall for me did you?”, she asks.
“No.”, he replies.
She laughs and responds, “I told you I was different from most women. You didn’t want to believe me.”
He says, “I know. I thought I knew what you needed.”
“Honey, you’ve no idea how my heart beats. If I didn’t know what I needed, how could you?”, she responds.
“I thought I did, but I was so wrong.”, he replies.
“When we first started this, I told you that everything happens for a reason. Do you remember that?”, she inquires.
“Yes.”, he quietly replies.
“Do you believe me now?”, she asks.
“No.”, he replies sharply.
“Bullshit! Don’t be such a man.”, she retorts. “I’m not going anywhere. You know that, don’t you?”
He asks, “Why are you so nice to me?”
She sparklingly responds, “Because as impossible as it seems, I love you. This is kismet, serendipity, fate, whatever you want to call it. All of this was supposed to happen.”
He looks at her and trails two fingers tenderly down the side of her face. She leans in, kisses his forehead and takes his hand. He wonders how he ever got so lucky and then she smiles that glowing smile. Her entire being radiates. He thought he was the charmer, the smooth talker, but no, it was her. She knew exactly what to say. What he needed.
Her grin widens and she says, “I promise, I’m not going anywhere love.”
“I’m glad.”, he replies.
She giggles mischeviously and says, “I know.”
As we set up our chairs on the beach, I hear the roar of the Atlantic at our backs. It’s full dark, the end of the summer season, and there’s a chill in the air. We decide to take advantage of the crisp, and brisk night and have friends over. You and the guys build a blazing fire on our little section of beach. We women sit and drink sweet red wine. Watching you interact with the guys makes me smile. You’re so confident in your fire making skills. You laugh easily. I love to see your easy smile light up your entire face.
We’ve known some of these people for years. Others, we met at the beginning of the summer. There’s wine and conversation. So much laughter. We sit in our short beach chairs around the fire. The flames are high and twist in the gentle breeze caused by the surf. Their colors are copper, crimson and sapphire. The wood is dry and cracks at the intensity of the heat. I lean up against your chest. You hold me close and I’ve never felt more free. More happy. More alive.
I contribute to the conversation. Say something sarcastic and snarky, because it’s what I do. I hear you laugh and it’s music to my ears. I sit up and grab a bottle of wine. I drink right from it, and hand it to you. You take a long pull on the bottle and pass it back to me. I bury it half way in the sand next to me, so it won’t tip over. I tell it to sit and stay, like it’s a dog. You and our friends laugh.
As the conversation continues, you put your hands in mine. I look down at them and notice that they are like mine. Soft, yet strong. Yours are strong enough to hold a girl that likes to run, but needs a home. A safe place to land. You’ve given me all of that. I’ve given you unconditional love. Something you’ve longed for, but never found. You’ve always loved too hard and gotten hurt. Until me. Until you. Until us, we merely existed. Now we live. For each other. For this, simple little life. On a beach. On the Atlantic.
You ease your grip and I caress your palms with my fingertips. I look into your eyes, and see the blazing fire reflected in them. Along with every emotion you feel for me. I smile at you and my pulse quickens. My body reacts with want, and I blush. You always make me blush. Still. Our friends stop and look at us. Some smile, while others are wistful. There we are on the beach with our friends around a campfire and we’re holding hands. But we’re doing more than that. Our love emanates and flows to those around us. Then I laugh my silly horse laugh and the spell is broken.
I turn to our circle of friends and say something with the word fuck in it, and everyone laughs uproariously. We unclasp our hands, I turn around and settle back into your chest. You put your arms around me, kiss the top of my head and whisper that you love me. I feel the warmth of flames on the front of my body, and the warmth of your inner flame in my back. I lean my head up, kiss your chin and whisper that I love you. Then I say your name. It slips easily from my lips, like a prayer. Like a promise. You were always my prayer, and my promise.
Cherry pie from Lee and Carol for mulching their gardens. Game nights at the Perez’s. Campfires on our patio unitl 3 AM. Wine, beer, and booze flowed along with our running mouths that never tired. We talked politics, religion, food, children, love, family and the meaning of life. We’ve even done some dancing on that patio.
The kids drove around on golf carts until curfew. Then there’d be tons of them playing cards and video games all over the house. Meg’s first love lived there. They would see each other every weekend. They were even caught making out on the beach. Imagine my surprise when the ranger came to tell me all about it!
Meggie and Adam Boy lived and worked a few summers there. They were lifeguards, recreation staff, and the keepers of little children. They even created a competitive swim program.
I loved the beach, the pool and the hot sun. I read tons of books, wrote and slept. I’ll miss that part of it I’m sure. I find peace on a beach, with the sand in my toes and sunscreen on my skin.
Roger and his crew rewired the the Florida room. I wouldn’t let them have a cocktail till the work was done. After the work was finished they proceeded to get hammered. Roger passed out in living room and Adam and I ate his pizza.
Roger Darling went airborne when he tripped on a loose patio block. I nearly lost my ever loving mind I was laughing so hard. He didn’t find it that hilarious as he was laying in the flower garden.
I showed my boobs to one of our best male friends. I thought Rog was going to faint he was laughing so hard. I tell ya, he’s never surprised by the crazy shit I do.
I threw my back out and had to be taken by ambulance to the hospital. My wonderful neighbor Max came over and held my hand. Everyone around me was freaking out and yelling. But Max, he knew exactly what to do to calm me.
We’ve changed houses, built decks, landscaped and beautified our little piece of the Pines. Our little piece of heaven. It’s D, G and M’s place now. I hope they make as many wonderful memories there as we did.
Periods are super fun. Especially on vacation! Ah well, it could be worse. Tracy and I haven’t stopped talking. Her lovely husband showed up today. They’re out taking pictures and I took a nap. Now I’m living on the edge, eating rice cakes and drinking Diet Coke. We had plans today to beach it but we haven’t moved around much. Just relaxing and still talking. I’ve written a few things. Tracy took a picture of me writing at the kitchen table. It made me a little misty eyed. I’m sure it won’t be the only time that happens this week. Can’t wait to see what her photos inspire me to write this week. Below are some of my word doodles that I scribbled down as I was making the eight hour trek to God’s country.
By Beaver Valley and Mile 12. The word Beaver tickles me silly.
Ch, ch, ch, ch changes, you can’t trace time.
First sweet and sour Charms Pop sucker. My tongue is blue now. It looks like I gave Papa Smurf a BJ.
I hear Bridges Burning by the Foo Fighters. Dave Grohl makes me wanna scream! The bass is so heavy it makes my rear view mirror vibrate.
Why is it when I see someone driving a Beemer I want to roll my window down and scream, Hey! You’re a fucking asshole?
P!nk sings, Don’t Let me Get Me. I’m my own worst enemy.
Then Tiny Dancer. Reminds me of Cameron Crowe and Almost Famous. And Adam Boy. The first time I heard him sing this song with his tenor voice, I cried. Of course I did. The boy makes my heart melt.
I think more about my children. WOW! Even in their 20’s they still find ways to amaze me.
OMFG I need gas!
Ah my Max Bemis starts singing Metal Now. He’s Metal Now, but he always was. He is my imaginary lover. All fucked up and bi-polar and shit. He’s a fucking genius!
Ears pop in peaks and valleys.
Clouds form with thunderheads and makes my Spidey Senses tingle.
Then it’s The Outsiders by NeedtoBreathe On the outside
You’re free to roam
On the outside
We found a home
On the outside
There’s more to see
On the outside
We choose to be.
Fiction illuminates the truth.
Random Ramblings and Reviews from Trent P. McDonald
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