These Old Bones

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Sunday – a day of rest.

I wish!

I’m sixty (I whisper that number quietly in my head). Never thought I’d live to see this age. A child of the fifties, I thought I’d stay young forever. I guess we all think that, but here I am SIXTY!

Weekends used to be spent partying, dancing, sleeping late, and then if I could find time, doing housework. I had lots of energy back in the day, it wasn’t a problem. My body isn’t quite as flexible anymore. Yesterday I cleaned house, worked on the yard (yes all 3 1/2 acres), cooked and baked. I rose at 6:30 am and by the time I sat down, it was 6:30 pm.

I forgot my age and when I got out of bed this morning THESE OLD BONES ACHED

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Not Alone!

candle-in-darkA solitary figure walked through the deserted streets. With every turn plunged he was plunged into deeper, darker shadows as he walked into the bowels of the city, but he wasn’t alone.

“Where are you leading me?” he said to no one.

He came to a dead-end, a courtyard.

“What now?” he asked.

Looking around him he felt hopeless, lost, but he didn’t feel alone. A candle burned in a small grimy window. The only light in the gloom. No wait, there was a door. A slither of light escaped beneath it.

The hinges creaked as he pushed it open and entered a tiny room. He stood for a while as his eyes accustomed to the darkness. The room was empty, but he heard whispers, was someone praying? Following the sound he walked carefully through a darkened archway. A woman sat in the far corner, next to a bed. She turned as he entered.

“Father, how did you know?”

She was holding the hand of an old man. His breath was uneven ragged.

“He’s ready to leave us.” she said. “Bless him Father, help him move on.”

The good father crouched down beside them and held their hands. Eyes closed, they prayed together.

Father Rafferty stood up, his old knees crackling as he did so. The ragged breathing had stopped. He turned to the old lady to offer her comfort, but she was gone. Was she ever there?

The smell of roses tantalized the air and Father Rafferty looked around. A beautiful young woman stood behind him. Her eyes sparkled with life and happiness. She held her hand out, not to him, but to the old man in the bed beyond. A cool breeze passed by him as a young man rose from the old body on the bed.

The young couple embraced and faded into the night.

All that was left was candle light and the smell of roses.

2017 Annus Mirabilis

img_0582No, I’m not learning Latin. Although if I have time, I may take Italian Lessons! For those of you who faithfully follow my blog, you’ll know I’ve been absent for a while. You could say I’m trying to get my $*%@ together again! I’ve been writing since I was in High School (and that’s a VERY long time ago), my head is full of stories, some true, some started by my late dad, and some in a back room of my brain, waiting to break free.

My absence was caused because my life has changed a little. I lost my job a couple of years ago, and my new position, with a much larger company, is much more taxing. I come home drained. I think I’ve finally gotten used to that. My health changed, fought with it for a while, but hopefully I have that under control too. Lastly my husband doesn’t travel any more, so the house is a little noisier. Now thats fixed that too. We had a small addition built, which gives me a little more privacy in my little study.

Now, I’m comfortable again and ready to hit the ground running.

I’m working on re-editing a couple of old stories, which will be released as a compilation later this year. It’ll be a cheap buy, because I want lots of folks to read it. Two of the stories were the first I ever published, and in my excitement to get them out there, I omitted making them perfect. I’m making them perfect now. (well as perfect as possible).

It feels good to be back, to be writing again!

 

Life is a little too short!

Why does time pass by so quickly
I blinked and lost the years
Where did they go?

I look into the mirror now
Whose face is that I see
Surely it's my mother because,
I don't believe its me.

My mind still wants to run and play
My thoughts are that of a girl
Why did life pass my by so fast?

I watch my daughter (thirty now)
How can that be?
She's lovely and happy and full of life,
But pretty soon she will be me.

I still have many things to do
And plenty of time to do them (if I hurry)
Life has flown, 
But not passed me by, 

The next few years I will be wiser
I'll soak up every moment,
When I leave this earth, when my time is done
I'll be ready (or will I?).


If I die tomorrow, at least I have one book written. Click on the cover to read about me, or purchase my book.

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Pigeons, Time and my Life Fly By

Wood PigeonI am awakened by the sound of Wood Pigeons. I smile and roll over snuggling into my warm bed. It’s Saturday so I am in no hurry to move.

No school today. My mum only works for a couple of hours on a Saturday morning and will be home soon. We always enjoy breakfast together before getting ready for the one o clock bus into Darlington.

Saturday is shopping day. First stop is ‘Pietro’s’ where my mum gets her hair fixed. Pietro is a very handsome Italian, he makes my mum blush, and that makes me laugh. Next stop Woolworth’s, where I always get a treat. We wander around the ‘covered in market’ for Yorkshire Curds, meat and whatever else takes our fancy, and we finish up in the Co-op.

Sometimes we buy fish and chips and eat them on the way home.

Yes, I like Saturdays.  CIMG0145

I like shopping with my mum in Darlington. I love the little village of Summerhouse, my home.

Finally I open my eyes, ready to enjoy the day.

Something isn’t right. I rub my eyes and look again.

This isn’t my cozy bedroom in Summerhouse. It’s a lovely room, but not mine, or is it?

I see white wooden shutters on the windows with a green and gold chaise beneath them. I look towards the double doors leading out to the stairs, and the vaulted ceiling of the room beyond.

This is a lovely house, but it isn’t Summerhouse, this is Colorado.

It’s not 1963 anymore and I am not six years old.

In what seems the ‘blink of an eye’ the years flew by. Where did they go?

The year is 2013 and I am old. My mum passed away a long time ago.

The Wood Pidgeon is still outside, but I think he is mocking me now.

 

 

Dark, Deep and Dangerous – Rock and Roll Suicide – Is there Life on Mars?

River Swale

Like most teens, I was troubled. Why is it growing up so difficult? I thought about taking my life on more than one occasion, feeling like no one understood me, or cared about me. I’m lucky to still be here, believe me. I was a teen in the late sixties, early seventies, when temptation was abundant, drugs, rock concerts, free love. So many things to temp a teenager to take the wrong path. I strayed to the dark side a couple of times, but always came back.

One chilly September evening I had the biggest row with my mother and I ran out of the house, slamming the back door behind me. The sun was setting as I walked down the back lane to the banks of the River Swale. My intention was to walk into the cold water and end my misery.

I found a comfortable rock to sit on, pulled out a pack of cigarettes (players no. 6) and inhaled the killer smoke deeply. It felt good. I sat and smoked what I thought may be my last cigarette as I watched the dark deep waters of the Swale beckon to me as they slid by. I finished my cigarette and looked at the smooth surface of the river as though hypnotized. It looked like oil, dark and smooth. I imagined myself walking slowly into the darkness. I would disappear without a trace. I didn’t think of the bloated body that may turn up a few miles downstream after a couple of days. I didn’t think of how it would hurt my parents.

I lit another cigarette and thought of the David Bowie song ‘Rock and Roll Suicide’. I could hear him singing it in my head. The words SUICIDE echoed loudly.

Time takes a cigarette, puts it in your mouth
You pull on your finger, then another finger, then your cigarette
The wall-to-wall is calling, it lingers, then you forget
Ohhh how how how, you’re a rock n roll suicide

I stood up and walked to the edge of the water. It beckoned me.

‘It’s a god awful small affair, to the girl with the mousey hair’

Another Bowie song, my song, but this time it wasn’t playing in my head. It was real. I looked around. “Hello” I shouted “Who’s out there?”

No one answered, but a new song started.

“Will you stay in my lovers story? If you stay you won’t be sorry, cos we believe in you”

“Hello”. I shouted again. “I know you are there. I like David Bowie too. You are playing all of my favorite songs”

I saw a light in the bushes behind me. Should I be scared? All thoughts of suicide were forgotten. My head was full of David Bowie and the light in the bushes. I walked towards it. It was a flashlight. I couldn’t see who was holding it because it was shining in my eyes. I prepared to turn and run when a voice said “Sandra, come home, lets talk”

It was my mum. I was glad to see her. “Sorry mum” I said “I didn’t want to fight”

“I know honey” she replied “It’s what families do”

We walked back up the dark unlit lane together, glad of the flashlight.

“Mum, did you hear music?” I asked.

“Yes it was that awful Bowie noise. Your friend Bobbie was sitting on a stone by the river with his transistor radio. Is he Okay? Do you want to bring him home?”

I stopped and looked at her “Mum, Bobbie’s is dead, he jumped out of a window last week, it can’t have been Bobbie” I said.

She looked at me, shining the flashlight in my face almost blinding me. “Why did he jump out of a window, he was such a nice boy. It certainly looked like him.”

“LSD” I answered.

We carried on walking. I am not sure if she knew what LSD was.

“With your long blonde hair and your eyes of blue, the only thing I ever got from you was sorrow……sorrow”

I looked at my mum to see if she heard this, she didn’t. 

Sitting on the stone wall, in the shadows was Bobbie, transistor radio in his hand. He had a sad look on his face. I was still alive. I survived another traumatic teenage episode. Bobbie had saved me. It was too late for him though. 

Life is never so bad that you should end it, especially when you are young.

 

Watch out for my upcoming novel ‘Dead of July’, which will be released later this year.  (Preview) Dead of July

My first short stories are available on Amazon. I believe you can get them for free. They aren’t perfect, but have received enough good reviews to encourage me to continue writing…..’Dead of July’ is currently with my editor and will be my debut novel. I am extremely excited about this one. 

Follow me on Facebook for updates

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Life is what you make it!

How can I stay sad?

I woke up this morning after only having slept about five hours, and I felt sad, defeated and tired!  Lots to do over a short weekend, but all I felt like doing was sleeping. Grumpy and out of sorts I got up.  I am behind on writing my new story, I have chores to do and so on and so on and so on. I was talking myself into a frenzy of sadness. Wait a minute!!!  What good does that do? I can catch up on my sleep tonight. Look outside. It’s a beautiful day in Colorado. The sun is shining, the birds are singing and I am alive. 

Maybe I won’t get chance to write today, but there is always tomorrow.

Take a look at the photo above, this is actually the view from my house! This photo was taken in December, but the view hasn’t changed, there is just no snow on the ground now.  How can anyone stay sad with a view like this to look at every day.  Have a great weekend everyone, and remember, if you woke up grumpy and tired and overwhelmed.  Sit down and take a deep breath……life really is what you make it!