Something I’ve been interested in and even worked on in a secret blog is writing. I like to write, but as with anything never attempted, am not sure I have what it takes to be any good. So, I started a story, and decided to be brave and share its progress as I work more with the idea. I’d really appreciate some feedback on the excerpt. If you’re so inclined comment, email me, but let me know if you’d enjoy reading more.
Tap tap…I hear the sound of rain drops as they beat a soft staccato against the window panes and watch as they glide slowly down their surfaces, forming rivulets that glide into one another forming one flowing stream. The fog is silently rolling over the mountain peak, a foreboding presence, it is Creeping ever closer like a blanket spreading over everything in its path. The trees disappear slowly until into nothingness. A small shiver escapes me, and I wish I’d remembered to bring coffee this morning.
Sitting straighter, I remind myself, only one more hour, focus on your work. I glance at my phone, it’s time. Finally. I grab my bag and begin to make my way home. The traffic is as usual unpredictable. Some days it’s as though I am the only person winding along this stretch of black ribbon. Others, I feel like I am part of an unorganized train, each car out of sync, trying to overtake the other in a cat and mouse game without rules. No one interested or even aware of the other, just a blur of metal in varying colors. It reminds me of an old song, about being just a number and feeling invisible.
Before I have much more time to dwell on depressing thoughts, I am pulling onto to my driveway. I sign and let my head fall back on the head rest. Enclosed once again by familiarity of blooming azalea bushes and distant mountain vista that surrounds our farmhouse; I’m home. Sitting in the car, I draw in a few breaths, slowly exhaling. In an attempt to clear my mind and just, be, for a few seconds. I’ve never mastered meditation, but I do occasionally seek its benefits. It doesn’t take long before my shoulders begin to release from the tense strained pose and droop in relaxation. I roll my neck from side to side and listen to the popping and feeling my bones reseat themselves. I am thinking that work life should never have so much control over my thoughts and wellbeing, and yet, they do.
I am a pleaser and a peacemaker. I take on blame, it must be my fault, right? I am sensitive, a softy, and all those other adjectives that make kindness sound derogatory. It has taken me a long time to understand and believe I that the problem is not within me, but how to make it stop is where I fail. It is what I allow to happen. I even recognize that I am manipulated by the hands of miserable, bitter, and mean spirited people. Unhappy and unable to cope with their own lives and problems, they lash out at anyone remotely happy or at peace. Today, I tell myself, do not allow them steal my peace, and some days, days I am even believe myself.
To be continued….