Category Archives: Fiction

JUST ANOTHER BORING MORNING IN MAYBERRY

Monday was an ordinary day like any other. I woke up early and lay in my bed for another twenty minutes or so. And then, I finally managed to gather enough energy to drag myself out of bed and throw my legs over the side. I slowly walked over to my bedroom window and gazed out across our yard and at my neighbor’s front yard. Suddenly, I heard a weird sound, and It sounded like a high-pitched moaning.

I couldn’t see what was causing the ruckus, so I opened my window even further and hung out as far as I could. My heart was beating like a snare drum. I could hear my heartbeat wildly. I felt somewhat lightheaded, and I feared I might pass out. or accidentally fall out of my window. I felt sick to my stomach. I have a tendency to be somewhat of a drama queen. At least, that is what my mother always says about me. I am afraid of everything, including bugs, snakes, mice, and big dogs. You name it, and I’m afraid of it.

Ever so slowly, I pulled myself back into my bedroom window and flopped down on my unmade bed. I lay there until I felt my heart beating normally, and I was breathing in and out, in and out. And my head stopped spinning. Sometimes, I have the feeling that I must be one of the most neurotic people in the world. In my mind, every little thing can become a catastrophe.

I decided to go downstairs and out my front door to see what the heck was going on. As I exited my front door, I heard one of my neighbors scream stop, stop, stop, my son is in that coach. I thought, what in the world is going on? So, against my better judgment, I ran out the door in my pajamas and across my front yard to the curb where my neighbor, Mrs. Rice, was yelling, “Stop, stop, stop. For the love of god, stop.”

I screamed at the top of my lungs, “What’s going on, Mrs. Rice?” And she said, “ Oh, Jennifer, my son was sleeping in his coach, and I turned my back for a moment because I heard my husband calling me.” And when I turned back around, my baby was gone. And the car that was parked next to it was driving down the street like a maniac.

“Mrs. Rice, “call the police, call the police.” And she did. She was yelling on the phone that someone who was driving a lime green pickup truck grabbed her baby out of his coach when she turned her back for a moment. That she only looked away for a moment to pick up his bottle. That she had dropped out of the coach accidentally.

She described the man driving the vehicle. He looked middle-aged and had a balding head and a mustache. And he was smoking a big cigar. His car looked like it had seen better days. And it looked as if it had been used for target practice. It had bullet holes on it on the front hood and the back window. The car was headed toward Fork Landing Road at a high rate of speed toward Route 38. Then she told the police her address. She explained where she was standing on the sidewalk next to the street, and “Please hurry.’

I stood next to her and held her hand because she had begun crying her eyes out. And she kept saying over and over, “Oh please bring back my baby, please bring back my baby.” The police finally arrived about fifteen minutes later. One of the police cruisers came down the street and pulled up next to the curb where we were standing. What looked like a giant got out of the police car and said, “ Mrs. Rice? I’m Officer Brown. One of my officers has cited the car that you described. And no doubt he will be able to stop the car and retrieve your son as quickly and safely as possible. Please calm down.

And then he looked down at me, “Well, was that your brother that the man took? “No, I only have a little sister. She’s a pest. She’s in my house watching cartoons. I saw this Mrs. Rice out here screaming and crying, “Stop, stop, stop.” And she told me that someone had grabbed her baby. And that he drove away in a car. And I told her to “Call the police.”

“Well, that was a good thing for you to do. Otherwise, the stranger could get far, far away.”

I looked at the police officer and smiled, and I thought, maybe someday I could become a police officer and save someone’s life.

The police officer said, “Hold on I’m getting a call from the officer that is chasing the get-a-way car.”

I looked at Mrs. Rice. Her face was pale but had big blotches of red all over it. She looked as if she was going to be sick to her stomach any minute. I took her hand again. It was all sweaty, but I didn’t let go of it until I heard another officer speaking to Officer Brown on his walky-talky. At least, that’s what I think they are called. And then he hung up. And looked at Mrs. Rice right in the face and said,” Good news. The kidnapper has been apprehended, and Officer McMullen is bringing your baby back. And he is perfectly fine and slept through the whole ordeal. They’ll be here any minute.”

And then Mrs. Rice started crying again. Big tears ran down her face. I couldn’t figure out why she started crying again. But I squeezed her hand and said, “Now, now, it’s going to be alright.” My mother always says that to me when I’m upset. And for some reason, she cried even harder. The officer looked at me and said, “You did a good thing telling her to call the police and staying with her until she got her baby back.

“Oh, here comes the squad car. Everything will be alright. You will need to come to the police headquarters first thing tomorrow to make a statement. Can you do that?”

Mrs. Rice shook her head up and down, and tears continued running down her cheeks and onto her coat. A moment later, another police car turned onto our street and slowly drove next to the curb where we were all standing. After parking the police car, the officer came out of his driver’s seat. He swung open the door, and we could see a baby that was lying in a blanket with a seat belt across it. The baby woke up and started screaming at the top of his lungs. Mrs. Rice reached in and picked up her baby, and tears rolled down her cheeks again. But, in that exact moment, a smile appeared across her face. “Thank you, officers, for saving my baby. I will be at the police station first thing tomorrow morning. And thank you so much.

“You’re welcome mam. I’m happy that everything turned out alright. It’s good that you kept calm and that you called the police right after it happened. Mrs. Rice still had tears running down her face, but a smile was on her face. Too. She said, “Thank you again, Jennifer, you saved the day.” What? No, I didn’t do anything. I just happened to be here right after it happened. The police were the heroes. I’m glad everything turned out alright. I have to be going now, I’m going to be late. Jennifer didn’t really have any place she had to be. She just felt uncomfortable getting all that attention. She wasn’t even going to mention anything to her Mom. She would make a big deal about it even though she knew that Jennifer didn’t like to be the center of attention.

Jennifer was about to head home when she saw what appeared to be a small dog or puppy running out into the street. Jennifer looked toward the house where the dog came from and didn’t see anybody outside looking for the puppy. But, the door was wide open. For a moment, she considered continuing on her way. But then she saw a car coming down the street in the direction of the puppy. So, she ran as fast as she could, grabbed the puppy, and ran out of the street to the sidewalk. She was slightly out of breath, and the puppy was whining and squirming in her arms. And she almost dropped him. “Good grief, puppy, hold still. I’ll take you back home where you’ll be safe.

So Jennifer carried the puppy back to the house that the puppy came out of and yelled into the front door of the house that the puppy came out of a few moments ago. “Hello, hello, is anyone home? I found your puppy running across the street. And then she yelled as loud as she could,” HELLO, HELLO, ANYBODY HOME?”

After what seemed a long, long time, she saw an old lady walk towards her from the back of the house. She said, “Can I help you, young lady?”

Jennifer said, “I was across the street, and your puppy ran outside into the street because the front door was wide open. So, I grabbed her and brought her back here. The old woman said,” Oh my, thank you so much. I must have forgotten to close the door after I got my mail. Sometimes I get forgetful. Thank you so much. I am puppy-sitting this week for my granddaughter. She went on vacation with some friends of hers. She is supposed to come back today. Oh, she would have been so upset if something happened to Arnold. Jennifer stared at the woman and said, “Oh? Whose Arnold?” That’s the dog’s name, Arnold. Thanks so much. Would you like to come in and have a piece of cake? I just took it out of the oven. That’s why I was preoccupied. And I’ll give you a big, cold glass of milk. What do you say?”

“Well, I would love that, but I’m not supposed to go into strangers’ houses.”

“Of course, you’re not. How thoughtless of me. How about I cut you a piece, and you can take it home with you and eat it after you eat lunch?”
“Yes, I would love that. I hope it’s a chocolate cake. That’s my favorite.”

“It is chocolate cake. This is your lucky day. Wait here. I’ll take the puppy and be right back. I’m going to put him in the front bedroom for a little while. Maybe he’ll take a nap. He has way too much energy for me to keep up with him. A couple of minutes later, the old woman slowly returned to her front door. I’m sorry for being so rude. I didn’t even ask what your name is.

“Oh, that’s OK. My name is Jennifer. I live down the street. I’m going to save this cake for after lunch because my mother doesn’t like me to eat sweets until after lunch. It looks delicious, and chocolate is my favorite.”

“Well, Jennifer, thank you for saving the puppy. Please feel free to stop by for a visit anytime. I would love to have you visit once in a while.”

“ Really, I would like to visit sometime too. I hardly ever see my grandmom.” Jennifer continued her walk down the street, wondering what was going to happen next. She couldn’t wait until dinner to tell her family about all her adventures today. In fact, every day, something interesting or exciting happens to Jennifer. And she would come home at lunch or dinner and share her exciting experiences. But nobody in her family believed her stories. They thought she just had an active imagination. But Jennifer didn’t make things up. She was sure her family wouldn’t believe her this time either.

Sure enough, when Jennifer’s mother called her to come home for dinner, and after everyone sat down to eat, Jennifer began telling of her adventures that day and how she was a heroine. But, once again, no one believed her. That is until the next day when their local newspaper arrived early that morning. And on the first page of the World News and Daily Report, which was the name of their local small-town newspaper. There was a story on the first page relating to Jennifer’s experiences helping save the baby and the puppy.

Jennifer’s family was flabbergasted. But they all stood up and clapped for her heroism. And Jennifer was so happy and proud that she almost started crying. Her mother gave her a big hug and said, “You’re a hero. We are so proud of you. Jennifer blushed and bowed and said, “I can’t wait to tell you what happened today.” her family all grew as one, and then they laughed when the first words out of her mouth were, “Well, first of all, I saw an eight-foot-tall man getting an icecream at the Custard Stand and then I saw an old man riding a unicycle down Main Street.”
Her whole family laughed, and then they clapped. One thing is for sure: there was never a dull moment in their house when Jennifer was around. And they all gave her a big hug.

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LOVEY

SOMETIMES TO LIVE IS AN ACT OF COURAGE

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I have to admit I have a unique personality—one which many people take an immediate dislike. What, you may ask, is the problem? Am I hideous, racist, stupid? Or any of a million other negative personality traits I could have?

At first blush, I appear to be a self-confident, intelligent, normal-looking person. But, after meeting me for the first time, you may have thought, wow, she is really a cool, intelligent person. Not only that, she has an amazing sense of humor.

But then, after spending some time with me, you start to notice some odd quirks. I overreact to ordinary events. For instance, one day, we were out walking in the park. It was a beautiful day. The weather was perfect. The sky was blue, and the sun was shining. There was even a light breeze. It was early in the morning, and the only people in the park were older people, most of whom looked old enough to be my grandparents. They often said good morning and said, “What a beautiful day.”

Outwardly, I appear to be a friendly and confident person. But as you well know, things aren’t always the way they appear at first blush, so to speak. I do not like talking to strangers. I’m not all that comfortable talking to people I’ve known for years. I’m terrified that if I talk too much, I will reveal who I really am. And that will be the end of our somewhat tenuous friendship. You will realize exactly who and what I am.

And here’s the god’s honest truth: I am without a doubt the most phobic, fearful, anxiety-ridden person that you ever had or ever will meet. Let me explain how this came to pass. It all began one day when I was quite young. I believe I had just turned ten years old. My family lived in a small row home in North East Philadelphia. One time in the late evening, one of my neighbors had a fire that started in her kitchen. Apparently, she had left the gas stove on and a pan sitting on top of the burner that had oil in it. She had fried some potatoes for dinner that night.

Anyway, at some point, she decided to lie down on the living couch and take a nap. She had a tall glass of wine with her dinner. The wine had a tendency to make her sleepy. And within ten minutes, she had fallen fast asleep. One of her neighbors smelled something burning. She rushed over to her next-door neighbor’s house and banged on the front door. No one answered. She tried to break the door down to no avail. She grabbed her cell phone, dialed 911, and told the operator to send the fire department.

By the time the fire company and the police arrived, most of the neighbors who lived in the apartment building and were at home managed to get out of the building. And warn all of their neighbors about the fire. Unfortunately, not everyone made it out safely. The neighbor who had inadvertently started the fire had died from smoke inhalation. I was standing outside along with my family when my neighbor who started the fire was brought out on a stretcher. She was covered from head to toe with a white sheet.

I looked at my mother, and I could see tears running down her cheek. I grabbed my mother’s hand and said, “Mommy, is Gammy alright?” That’s what I called her, Gammy, because I didn’t have a grandmother, and Gammy had asked if she could be my grandmom since she didn’t have any grandchildren of her own. At least once a day, I would go over to her house to talk to her, and sometimes, my mom would give me some cookies or cake to share with her.

Gammy would give me some cold milk, and she would drink green tea., We would keep eating until all the cookies or cake were eaten up. Gammy told me stories about her childhood. She grew up on a farm in New Jersey a long, long time ago. Her family raised peach trees and blueberries. And sometimes pumpkins and corn in the Fall. I loved hearing her stories. It sounded like she had such fun on her farm. She used to help by feeding the chickens and the cows. I asked her if she could take me with her to visit the farm. And I saw tears in her eyes. And she said, “I’m sorry, I can’t. My family’s farm isn’t there anymore. There are apartments there now.” I could tell she was still sad about it. So, I took her hand and held it, and she hugged me tight.

Some of her stories were about the animals on her farm, and I loved to hear about them. I wanted to have a dog or a cat so bad. But my mother said, “We are not allowed to have pets in this apartment building. So, that was that. Even when I begged just to get a pet hamster, she said,” No, they will stink the place up, and people will complain about the smell, and we’ll get thrown out.” And that was the end of that conversation.

The next day, my mother called the hospital where Grammy was taken yesterday and was told, “I’m sorry she didn’t make it. She inhaled too much smoke and passed away during the night.” My mother didn’t tell me what happened right away. Even though I kept asking her over and over if we could go to the hospital and see Grammy. And finally, the next day, my mom held my hand and said, “I’m sorry, Kimmy, Grammy passed away last night. Try to remember that she lived a long and happy life. I’m sure she will be looking down from heaven and watching over you.

I stared at my mother for a long, long time, and then I started crying and whaling like I lost my best friend. Because that is exactly what happened. I had lost my best and only friend. And that was the beginning of me being afraid of every little thing. Because I never knew when or what would happen. And something could steal my mother away. And I didn’t think I could bear that.

I missed Grammy for a long, long time. I didn’t talk about her anymore, but I thought about her every day for years. I became afraid to make new friends because I couldn’t imagine ever losing my best new friend again. I just couldn’t take it. From there on out, I felt so alone in the world. And I watched over my mother like a hawk. I followed her everywhere she went up until I started school. All day in school, I was afraid that the principal would come and tell me something terrible happened to my mom. I felt sick all the time with fear.

The more fearful I became, the quieter I became. I started biting my fingernails and pulling my eyelashes out. I was afraid to answer the phone for fear of bad news. I wouldn’t look at the mail for the same reason. The bad news was all I thought about. I wouldn’t talk to strangers at first, and then I stopped talking to other kids in my school, including my friends. I decided it was easier not to have friends and family. Then, I could avoid their loss.

At one point, the school counselor contacted my family. So they could discuss my behavior. My parents thought I was acting out in class. They hadn’t realized how withdrawn I had become. I couldn’t help but believe that they didn’t care about me anymore. They should have noticed how thin I had become and how little I ate, but they didn’t. And things only got worse from that point forward. I develop twitches and tics. Kids at school started making fun of me all the time. Which only made me even more upset and obsessed.

Every morning, it took me a long, long time to get ready to go to school. I had to go through a whole series of behaviors before I could go out the front door. And then, once I did go out the front door, I had to hop, skip, and jump all the way. I didn’t know why I was doing all of this. I just knew I had to, or something terrible would happen to someone I loved. And I could not tolerate another loss.

By that time, my parents realized I was in a bad way. Every time they noticed me behaving strangely, they would sternly say, “Stop doing that now. That’s enough.” Of course, their lack of understanding and their negative reaction toward my tics just made it worse. I didn’t want to attend school anymore. All the kids made fun of me all day long, from the time I got on the bus to go to school and throughout the school day. It wasn’t just my schoolmates. All the kids from kindergarten up. I felt like I was running a gauntlet from the bus ride all through the day and then again on the bus ride home.

My parents took me to one therapist after another. None of them were able to help me. Because I wasn’t able to tell them why I was acting the way I was. I didn’t really understand what was happening to me either. I couldn’t stop myself. It was like the tics were taking over my body and my life. I was always depressed. I didn’t know how to be happy again. This particular doctor believed in talk therapy. He kept asking me how I was feeling today. What are you thinking about? It will help you to express your fears with me.

After many years, I went to the therapist, and I made slow progress in returning to acting like a “normal” person. I was able to finish school and get a job. I had difficulty keeping jobs even though I was intelligent and learned quickly. The main problem was my inability to interact with people and hold up my end of the conversation. My employers decided it would be best if I worked alone in one of the back offices. I was able to do any job they asked me to do up until I had to talk to people. Although, I had no problems talking on the phone or by correspondence. I did well. In fact, I excelled at any task they set before me.

I could have moved up in the corporation, except for my inability to interact directly with customers. Then there were my personal problems, in that I had great difficulty making and keeping friends. I was living a lonely and isolated life. And then, one day, it all changed. The company hired an employee, and they told me that he was going to work with me. I freaked out. I started feeling overwhelmed and terrified. I thought for sure I was going to lose my job as soon as this person started working with me.

As it turned out, it was a young man about my age. Just an ordinary guy. Someone you wouldn’t notice on the street. He wasn’t particularly good-looking or ugly. As soon as he walked into my office, he came over and introduced himself. He tried to shake my hand. I tried to pull it away. He held onto it for a couple of minutes. He said, “My name is Henry Fitzpatrick. I’m going to be working with you from now on. I’ve heard great things about you. I think I will learn a great deal from one another.’

I looked at him for a moment and then looked away. I started twitching and blinking my eyes rapidly. He continued talking to me as if nothing unusual was happening. He kept up his quiet dialogue. He never mentioned that I was acting weirdly. I started to relax. After a few weeks of working with him, I felt more at peace with myself than I ever had. One day, he asked me if I would like to go out to lunch with him. I said, ‘Oh, I don’t know. I’m not very good in public situations. I don’t really feel comfortable in the public. I start twitching. “ I know all about that, and I think you will do fine. Don’t worry about what other people are thinking. Just try to relax and have a nice lunch. I would really enjoy going out with you.”

When it was time to go out to lunch, I started feeling nervous. But he took my hand and said, “How about we walk to the restaurant? It’s just down the street.” He kept up a quiet dialogue the whole time. In fact, he managed to eat his lunch and still talk. He told me some interesting stories about his childhood. I sat there eating my tuna salad sandwich and listened to him. He had a calming demeanor, and I listened to him quietly at first. And then I asked him a question or two, and before I knew it, we finished our lunch, and we were on the way back to our office. He looked over at me when we were within a few feet of our office building and said,” I had a great time. How about we go out to dinner sometime soon?”

“Well, I don’t know.”

“Of course you do. It will be fine. And we can go out to a movie after if you like. What do you say?”

I looked at him, and I thought, “Why not?” And that is exactly what we did. And the next time, he asked me to come to his house for dinner. He said I’m a great cook. How do you feel about Italian food?” I said, “ I love Italian food.”

Now, I’m not saying that from that point forward, I acted like a normal person. But I was a whole lot calmer, and I tried not to focus on my own behavior when I was interacting with other people. I focused on what they were saying instead. And over time, my tics all but disappeared unless I got upset. And now, my co-worker and I are the best of friends, and I think I may be falling in love for the first time. Life has never been better. And the best thing that has happened is that I have begun to feel more comfortable in my own skin, and I feel confident. I don’t know what is going to happen between Joe, my co-worker, and me, but I look forward to a happy life no matter what happens.

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SO APPARENTLY, IT’S BACK TO SQUARE ONE

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About a month and a half ago, I received a notice “in the mail.” It was from my husband’s lawyer. My husband had filed for divorce. We had recently celebrated our twenty-fifth anniversary. To say it was a shock is the understatement of all times. I had no idea, none, that he was unhappy or discontent. He was away on a business trip, and I had expected him to come home by the end of the week. He hadn’t contacted me since he left four days ago, which wasn’t unusual. He traveled quite often. He didn’t always know exactly when he would be getting home.

I called him on his cell phone. He didn’t pick up. There was a message saying he would be unavailable for the next several weeks. Leave your number, and he will get in touch with you.

I slowly placed the phone back, I had an impulse to slam it down hard, but I didn’t since I could already feel the beginnings of a migraine headache in the top of my head. I felt a tear run down my cheek, followed by an avalanche of tears that followed it.

I sat there frozen in place, unable to think clearly. It felt like the end of the world to me. I could not comprehend that my husband, whom I loved dearly, did not love me anymore and wanted a divorce. This is the man I had intended on spending the rest of my life all the way to our golden years.

I kept going over in my head everything that had happened between us recently. I couldn’t think of a single word or event that would have given me some warning that Howard was discontent or unhappy in our life together. But, obviously, he was, and somehow I had remained blissfully unaware of his feelings and his intentions.

It just blew my mind. And even on the evening of our twenty-fifth-anniversary party, he never let on. It almost feels as if I’m living in some alternate reality. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do next. Do I get a lawyer, should I ask my husband if he’s willing to see a marriage counselor? I don’t know. I talked to several of my woman friends who have experienced divorce, and they all gave me the name and number of the divorce lawyers they had used. Sally, my best friend, cried along with me. And told me she would be with me every step of the way. And she was. What would we do without our woman friends?

My husband’s lawyer and my lawyer scheduled a meeting for us all to get together and discuss the details of our divorce. Who gets what etc., etc. It was brutal. My husband sat across from me and never looked me in the face. It was like he was negotiating one of his real estate contracts with a total stranger. His face was without expression, and he never made eye contact with me. He looked through me as if I was invisible to him. I was having a difficult time paying attention to what was being said. I hoped my lawyer was doing his job because I felt like I was in some other dimension.

The next thing I knew, my lawyer touched my shoulder and said, “These are the papers you have to sign. You keep the house, and the two of you will evenly divide the investments and any monies that remain in your joint bank accounts.” I stared at him and shook my head up and down a couple of times. And then he shoved the contracts in front of me and held a pen up in front of my face. Since I wasn’t reacting to what he just stated. I took the pen, and my lawyer pointed at the decree and said,” Sign, here, here, and here. It’s final. We can be on our way.”

My husband got up from his seat, shook his lawyer’s right hand, and then turned and left the room without a word said to me at all. It was almost as if I didn’t exist in his reality anymore. And I guess I didn’t. It was surreal. I tried to take it all in. I guess it was going to take a long time for me to accept my new reality, even if that reality was a complete and unbelievable nightmare.

After we had signed all the papers, the lawyers shook each other’s hands. I stood up and immediately felt dizzy. I sat down again, and my lawyer gave me a glass of water to drink. He said, “This is a difficult experience. Many people have a negative reaction to divorce. I promise you that in time you will adapt to this change. You know how to contact me if you need to for any reason.” He shook my hand, and I think I shook his as well, but I couldn’t sware to it. I felt lightheaded. I slowly rose from the table, picked up my purse, and headed out the door and into the foyer. I didn’t even bother to look back at my husband, I mean, my former husband. I didn’t know how I would take my next breath, let alone continue on with my life like nothing happened. When I couldn’t think of a single reason to keep breathing or living. I somehow made it home safely. I don’t know how. I don’t even remember driving home.

But, one good thing did happen I decided that I was going to get a dog as soon as possible. I couldn’t bear the idea of living alone. I wasn’t ready to think about selling my house. But, it was in there at the back of my mind. Selling the house I had lived in for the past twenty years with my “husband.” And starting over, somewhere new. I had always wanted a dog. But, my husband said, “What for?” Unfortunately, we were never able to have children, and doctors were never able to diagnose the fertility problem. It just never happened for us. He didn’t want any part of adopting. And he even rejected getting a dog.

So here I am at the husk of a new life. Where I alone determine what is right for me, it has given me hope that, under my own power will make myself happy and eventually content. I will bring myself to my ultimate goal. And that is happiness and contentment. Is this too much to ask, you may say? “No, no, it is not.”

After weeks of vacillating about what I should do to turn my life around, I finally made the decision to hire a realtor and sell the house. I no longer considered it to be “my” house. It was just “a house.”

At this point, I wanted a complete change of scenery. And the night I woke up from a dream and realized that what I wanted to do was buy a house on the beach and get a dog. And spend the rest of my days in a warm climate walking my dog or perhaps dogs on the beach. At some point, I would have to find a job to help pay the bills. But, not right away, I wanted to have to accustom myself to the new home and perhaps make a friend or two.

As soon as I found “my” house, I would get myself a dog. And then my new life would begin. In the next three weeks, I spent all my time going from one house to another with my realtor, looking for that perfect home. About three weeks in, my realtor took me to a two-story home in Wildwood, NJ. And I immediately fell in love with it. I realized that it was big enough that I could rent part of the house out to make some extra money and still have plenty of room. I would live on the lower floor. Once I went to the settlement, I started hitting the local shops looking for furniture and everything else I would need. And within a month, I thought it was absolutely perfect.

The following week I took a trip to the local pound to get a puppy. There were quite a few dogs to choose from. But once I saw the little ball of fluff, I knew I had found my dog. The woman who worked at the animal shelter told me that he was actually a grown dog and he wouldn’t get any bigger. He was a must, but she wasn’t sure what kind of mix he was. As soon as I met him, I fell in love. And I knew he was the dog for me. I took him home that day. I named him Buddy because he had quickly become my best buddy. It took him a few days to become accustomed to my house. But, soon enough, he felt at home. Oh, and he absolutely loved walking on the beach and letting the waves wash over his feet at the shoreline. We were a match made in heaven.

Every day we started the day with a walk to the beach and back, and then we had a light breakfast. I had fenced in the backyard and put a doggy door in the kitchen door so he could go out back to the yard when he needed to relieve himself. He soon befriended our neighbors, who all turned out to be friendly, but not too friendly, if you know what I mean.

As a matter of fact, I began to make friends with some of my neighbors who had befriended Buddy. I started planting a garden in the front yard. And my neighbors came over to admire my handiwork. Some of them even asked me for gardening advice. I was happy to advise them, although I informed them that I, too, was a novice gardener and just learning myself.

Before I knew it, I had been living there for six months. And I couldn’t remember a time when I had felt more content and relaxed. In my free time, I decided to start writing some short stories about what was going on in my local area. And one of my neighbors suggested I send some of my stories to the local newspaper. Believe it or not, the paper said they would pay me to write stories about what was going on in the local area. And I was a little reluctant at first, but then I thought, “Why not?”

And so, now I am a paid writer for the local newspaper. I’m not making a lot of money, but every bit helps. Who knows what I will do next? The skies are the limit. I am quite content living in my house with my Buddy and so happy to live in a neighborhood where people care about one another. So, I guess my divorce wasn’t all bad. And who knows what good things are coming my way? I look forward to the future and what it will bring.

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SISTERS

LIFE IS SHORT MAKE EACH DAY COUNT

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The man skipped, jumped, and ran for short distances as he made his way down the city street. He was on the main thoroughfare, but he could have been anywhere. He seemed to have no real destination in mind. But he was in an awful hurry to get there. Suddenly, he stopped cold and ran to the curb. An old bike was parked on the sidewalk. It was a vintage 1950s red Schwinn Panther. A girl’s bike with a basket on the handlebars and a knee-action spring fork, whitewall tires, chrome-plated fenders, and a slightly rusty chrome-trimmed tank with a built-in horn that had an American Flag attached to it.

In addition to the Flag, the bike is covered with First Prize ribbons of every color and condition imaginable. It must have been a childhood collection of awards for spelling, penmanship, grammar, math, and art. They hung from every surface of the bike. It was quite a sight. He hopped on the bike with a grace that seemed impossible for a man his age. He had a gray, scraggly beard down to his chest. His mustache was waxed and stood out four inches on either side of his rosy cheeks. His hair was long, and he wore it in two braids down his back. There was a tiny flag on each braid. The kind you saw years ago when you ordered a drink at a bar on the Fourth of July.

He continued down the street on the bike at breakneck speed. He started singing loudly. At first, it was difficult to understand because of his speed and his raspy voice. But once he got his momentum up, he sang in a deep baritone voice. He was singing The Fortunate Son by Credence Clearwater Revival. His voice grew louder and stronger as he flew down the street on his two-wheeled chariot. He threw back his head and sang, “Some folks are born made to wave the flag. They’re red, white and blue. And when the band plays Hail to the Chief, they point the cannon at you.”

Suddenly, a voice rang out,” Sam, what’s your hurry? Come on over here, and let’s have breakfast. Sam pulled over to the curb with alacrity and skill. He put the kickstand down and said,” Long time no see you old goat.”

“Look who’s calling me an old goat, Walt. You look like you haven’t taken a good look in the mirror for about fifty years.”

“That sounds about right.”

“Well, so where’s this breakfast going to take place?”

“How about at The Sunny Side Up breakfast place down the street?”

“Can you believe it?

I just found my bike after two days. Some kid must have grabbed it, drove downtown, and just ditched it. I don’t know what I do without my Old Glory.

“I bet no one would recognize you without that old bike, Sam. It’s really a collector’s piece, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Walt, but it’s more than that. It’s my connection between the past and the present. That bike belonged to my wife when she was a little girl. God rest her soul.”

“Yes, Marie was a fantastic woman. I don’t know how you were so lucky to marry her. Half the guys in town were in love with her.”

“We had a happy marriage. I have no complaints other than she left me too soon. There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t think of her.”

“So, Sam, what have you been up to lately? I know you are always up to something?”

“Well, as a matter of fact, I have been working pretty hard. I got a job repairing the organ in the theater. Well, I’m not just repairing it. I’m restoring it. You know, the one that was used back in the day when Vaudeville used to come to the Pitman Theater. Did you know it’s a player piano as well?”

“No, I didn’t, Sam.”

“Well, Walt, I just started working on it a couple of days ago. But I already found one of the problems. There were some letters hidden under the strings that were inhibiting the percussion of the instrument. The letters looked really old. It’s possible they even predated the piano. I can’t figure out how they might have ended up where I found them. I believe they might have been deliberately placed there by someone.”

“You’re kidding me, Sam. I would love to take a look at them. Let’s talk about this when we’re eating breakfast.”

As they walked through the door of the Sunny Side Up restaurant, a bell chimed, and Henry Decker, the cook, yelled out,” Sit anywhere you like. Our waitress called out sick. I’ll be there in a few.”

“Hey, so what can I get you guys? What’s going on? It looks like you two both swallowed a canary or two.”

“Well, I’ll have the special, plus two biscuits and a black coffee straight up, thanks.”

“Hey, that sounds good to me. Make that two. Henry.”

“Well, Sam here is about to tell me about some letters he found in the player piano that he’s repairing. I mean restoring the theater. You know that old organ that was used back in the Vaudeville days.”

“You don’t say, what kind of letters?”

“To tell you the truth, I’ve been so busy that I haven’t taken the time to look them over. But they’re all yellow. So, I know they’re old. I’ll let you know once I study them a bit.”

“Ok then, Sam, do that. I’ll be back in a few minutes with your coffee, and then I’ll cook you up some fried eggs and ham, Sam. Get it, fried eggs and ham, Sam?”

“Yeah, ’cause I haven’t heard that a million times before. Get busy. And don’t give up your day job to be a comedian, Henry.”

“Sam, you have always been such a spoilsport. You were an old man before your time. I think you might have been born an old man. Lighten up already, won’t you? So, Sam tells me something about the history of the Theater and the organ.”

“Well, Walt, it’s really kind of interesting. I’d be happy to. The Broadway Theater opened in 1926. Movies but also Vaudeville shows were shown. There were about one thousand seats. Some of the most famous acts and performers played there. Would you believe that Bob Hope and Bing Crosby, Abbot and Costello? Not to mention Jerry Lee Lewis and George Carlin. I really loved George Carlin. And a lot more, real stars.

“That’s really something, right here in our little town of Pitman. I guess people came from all over to see it.”

“I imagine they did. Wouldn’t that be something if we saw all those great performers back in the day?”

“I’ll tell you something, Walt. I really consider it an honor to be repairing that organ. It really is a thing of beauty. Stop by, and I’ll show you what I’ve been doing. It’s not everybody that has the skill to work on a vintage organ like this one. And you can take a look at those letters I was telling you about.”

“Here ya go, fellas, enjoy. I have to keep moving since I’m the staff today. Talk to you later.”

“Come on, Walt, let’s go, that was a great meal. Times a wasting.”

As they walk down Main Street, they run into the editor of the town newspaper. She stops them on their way into the theater. “Hey, guys, what’s happening?”

“Hello Constance, I’m just going to show Walt the Kimball Organ that I’m restoring. Would you like to come along?”

“Sure, I have about a half-hour to kill before my next meeting with the Pitman Historical Society. We are trying to find ways of funding the repairs on the Grove Building, especially the old Methodist Meeting Hall.”

As they step into the main hall, they all stop and look around. Constance exclaims, “Wow, I’m always surprised when I come in here. It’s really something, isn’t it a grand place? Those chandeliers are just breathtaking. You know I really ought to do another pictorial about this place. It’s really coming together. It looks great.”

“Here it is. Oh, Constance, I was telling Walt that one of the reasons the organ wasn’t operating was that there were some old letters preventing the organ from working properly.”

“Really, Sam? Well, let’s have a look at it.”

The three gazed down at the organ. “Yep, just how I remember it. This will be a real centerpiece when you finished, Sam. You are doing a great job here. We all appreciate your time and talent. I bet there aren’t too many people left who would know how to work on this instrument.”

“Thanks, Constance. Oh, here are those letters I was telling you about.”

Constance picks up the letters and begins scanning the top one. “What the? Hey, this sounds like a love letter. It’s signed, your Raymond. Let me see that envelope, Sam. What the… This is Raymond Goldstone Sr. Well, I’ll be dammed Raymond Goldstone, the magician. Wait, who is he writing to? Let me see the first page again. It says, Dear Madeleine. Do you know who that is?”

“No, not offhand, I don’t, but I would guess it is someone that worked in the theater in the late 1920s and early 1930s. I bet you could find out Constance. Don’t you have copies of all the old newspapers from back then?”

“You’re right. We do. Let me see a couple more of the letters, Sam.”

“Sure, here you can take them. They might get lost in here with all the construction that is going on.”

“Sam, Walt, I have an inspiration. We can publish these letters in The Pitman News and World Report once a month like a serial. People would eat this up. It would get more people from out of town to read and subscribe to the paper. And maybe even bring people to the Theater to see the scene of the crime, so to speak. But I’m going to have to do a lot of research first. This is so exciting; I’m so happy I ran into you two days. I’m really psyched.”

“Hey, do you really think this will work, Constance?”

“You bet I do, and I think we could get this to go national. And then we’re talking big time. Pitman is really going to become famous. Raymond Goldstone, one of the world’s most talented and famous magicians in love with a hometown Pitman lady. I have to go and start doing some research. I’ll let you two know what I found out. Let’s meet again on Monday morning at Sunny Side Up for coffee, and I’ll let you know what or if I found out who our mysterious Madeleine is.”

“Alright, great Sam, Walt, I’m excited about this. It could be the answer to our prayers.”

On Monday morning, Sam and Walt are waiting patiently on the bench outside Sunny Side Up when they see her heading in their direction.

“Hey, guys, sorry I’m late. Something always happens at the last minute when I’m about to go out the door. Oh well, forget about all that. I have some news. I think I have a candidate for our mysterious Madeleine. And perhaps a picture of her. There was Madeleine Summers, who was the costume designer for all the Vaudeville Shows back in the day. Apparently, she was the daughter of one of the founding fathers of Pitman. So, all of this must have been kept under wraps. Her family was very much involved in the Methodist Church.”

“You gotta be kidding me. Can you imagine the stink if anyone back then found out about her and Raymond? So, hand it over, I want to see the picture of this femme fatal.”

Wait a minute, and I want to see it too?” Sam chimes in.

Alright, Sam, you too, Walt, take a gander. I imagine she was considered quite the looker back in the day. Was she married?”

“Not that I could find any evidence of, I guess she would have been considered an Old Maid. Of course, people got married young back then. Usually, the man was quite a bit older than the bride.”

“Wow, Connie, she was a looker—the face of an angel. Well, I guess a fallen angel. But still quite a beauty. Those eyes are mesmerizing, indeed quite the looker. Do any of her family live in Pitman live here any longer?”

“Not that I can find any evidence of Walt which is good since we wouldn’t want any descendants causing any trouble. Well. I guess she didn’t have any children, or it would be in the census. At least none that I could find.

“From what I have been able to glean, the last family member was a sibling of Madeleine. One Matilda, who was a few years younger than Madeleine and she never married either. Which is a little weird, but nonetheless? Neither one ever married. So says the court documents I spent three days perusing. Oh, one more thing I found some pictures of Raymond doing his famous cutting a woman in half with a buzz saw. And it looks like she must have filled in a couple of times for his assistant. Take a gander at this.”

“Look at her. That costume must have caused a real stir back then. Weren’t most women still wearing wool bathing suits down to the knees back then?”

“No, I think by the early 1930, ’s Latex was invented, and women wore one-piece latex form-fitting bathing suits. But nothing like this outfit. Walt.”

“Hey, Walt, let me have a look already.”

“Take it easy, Sam, you don’t want to have a stroke or something. It might be more than you can take.”

“Woah, she was a looker, all right.”

“OK, you guys settle down. She passed away in the early 1970s. Apparently, never married. No kids, as I told you before. I don’t know what happened between them. Or when it ended but I do know that Goldstone toured all over the country for a while and he did some spots on TV. He retired in the early 1950s. He was married and, of course, had a son named after him. Raymond Goldstone Jr., was a magician as well. I guess you could call it a family business.”

“Connie, is there any indication in the letters that his wife knew about what was going on between Harry Sr. and Madeleine?”

“No, Walt, not in any of the letters. But I did find out that Goldstone Sr. was married three times. So, I don’t know the timeline of these marriages. But back then, three times was not all that common. But if you are a famous magician and you travel all the time. Well, you get lonely. And women are sometimes attracted to famous and glamorous people. And a magician, you can expect many women would be flattered by his attention.”

“Well, Connie, what do you think about publishing one of the letters?”

“Walt, I think we could do that without revealing the names of the Blackstone and Madeleine. See if we get any response from the readers. Let me get one of the first letters, and you can publish it. See what happens. Here’s one that I think will get some attention and not too risqué.”

Dear Ray, I miss you so much. Each moment without you feels like an eternity. I feel like I have known you all my life. You understand me like no other person I’ve ever known. You brought such magic and light into my life. And without you, there is only darkness. I miss your magical touch. I miss your breath against my skin. I have never trusted anyone as I trust you with my heart, my soul. Every part of me yearns for you. Every minute of my life is a moment wasted without you in it. The distance between us might as well be the distance between the Earth and the sun. There is only a void where you once lie next to me. Please, my love, tell me when I can see you again. Where can we meet? Just say the word, and I will be there. Love, Maddy.

“Walt, what do you think? How about you, Sam? Should I go ahead and print it? No names; maybe we could give some hints about the time and circumstances surrounding this affair. And let people guess their identities. What do you two think?”

“Go for it. Connie.”

“Yeah, as Walt says, go for it.”

“Connie, let me and Sam know what kind of feedback you have about the story. “

“Alright, I will, and if I have any news between now and our next meeting, I’ll contact you.”

“Great, Connie, we’ll see you next week, same place, same time. Take Care.”

“Bye Walt, bye Sam, see you soon.”

The following Friday night, Connie gives Walt a call. “Hello, Walt, this is Connie. I’m glad I caught you at home. I don’t know if you read the Pitman News and World Report this past week, but I published the article. And I included the love letter. And my phone hasn’t stopped ringing all week. You know what a sleepy town Pitman is? Well, get ready because things are going to get exciting really soon.”

“Exciting, in what way, Connie?”

“Walt, well, get this; one of the former residents of Pitman still gets the Pitman News, and World Report sent to her in the mail. And she has been living in New York City for the past five years. She happens to work on Fifth Avenue, and she is an actress. And she’s doing a play on 42^nd Street. She knows a lot of famous people in the City.

“Yeah, so what?

“So, she contacted a writer for the New York Times that she dated for a while. And, he loved the story, and he’s going to be coming here to talk to guess who?”

“OK, Connie, I’ll bite. Who does he want to talk to?”

“Oh, Walt, us. What do you think? You, me, and Sam.”

“And if he likes what he hears and sees, the story could go national. And then, who knows what will happen? It could really put Pitman on the map. And our theater will really get some attention then. How about we meet for breakfast in the middle of the week? Say on Thursday and discuss any new possibilities. And Walt, we can then go with you to the theater and see how the renovations are coming along.”

On Thursday morning at nine o’clock sharp, Sam arrives on his bike, and Walt pulls up to the curb in his 1957 mint condition Cherry-red Chevy Bel Air two-door hardtop. “Hey, guys and gals. I’m really enjoying getting out and eating breakfast with you two. Since I usually spend most of the day alone working in the theater on the piano.”

“Hello Sam, I must say I’m enjoying the break too. I rarely get to sit down and eat. I usually eat takeout on my way from one place to another. So, Sam, how are the renovations on the piano going anyway?”

“Connie, things are going along swimmingly. In fact, I will soon be finished. You were so wired about Raymond Goldstone and the woman. You haven’t asked about the player piano in a while. I have made some real headway. I believe I will have it back in working condition in a couple of weeks. It has been really challenging too. I don’t think I mentioned it before, but this piano is unique. It is actually a 3/8 Kimball theatre pipe organ. A unique instrument, considering its size. Did you know there is a pipe organ blower room in the basement? I had to replace some of the pipes.”

“That’s fantastic, Sam; I’m proud of you. Not too many people with your skills around anymore, pretty much a lost art.”

“Thanks, Connie, and I have enjoyed every minute of it. Hey, my stomach is growling.”

“Speaking of which, you two, I already ordered breakfast for the three of us. Since we always get the same thing. It should be ready in a moment or two. Let’s go in.

“Connie, maybe you should get the newspaper’s photographer out to the theater and take some pictures of the theater and the player piano. It would be great publicity. And everyone should be informed of the great work our hometown boy here, Sam, has done.”

“You’re right, Walt, that’s a great idea. But do you really think there is a photographer on the Pitman News and World Report’s staff?”

“Isn’t there?”

“Oh, you got to be kidding me, Walt? I’m the writer and the editor and the publisher and the photographer. I run the whole thing from top to bottom.”

“You’re kidding, I didn’t realize that. You are a walking, talking dynamo. Aren’t you, Connie?”

“Yeah, Walt, that’s me, the human dynamo.”

“Oh wait, less talk and more eating; here comes our food. I’m starved.” Sam interjects.

“Well, that really hit the spot. Do you want to split the bill or what?”

“Sam, Connie, let me take care of this. And I think we should see how your piano is coming and the restoration of the theater. It might be possible that we’ll be holding a celebration in the theater. If everything goes the way, I hope it will. Let’s go.”

“I’ll take care of the tip, Sam and Walt. Let’s hit the road.”

“So, here we are, times a waste. Well, Connie and Walt, do you notice anything different about the front of the Theater? No, well, why don’t you cross the other side of Broadway and take a look at the Marquee? Alright, do you see anything different from over there?”

“Wow, this is fantastic. It says, “Grand Reopening on May 18^th.” Wait, isn’t that the day the Spring Craft Fair begins this year? What a great idea, at least 10,000 people come to the fair.”

“Yeah, that’s right, Walt, that was my idea because I knew the piano would be ready and the renovations will be completed this week. Can you believe it? Come on, let’s go in, and you can take a gander. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

As they walk into the vestibule, Walt and Connie stand in awe staring at the chandeliers. The lights are sparkling through the crystals and sending rays of light on the ceiling and the walls. The plaster molding is intact and painted in the original colors.

“Sam, it really looks gorgeous. Is this new carpet on the floor?”

“Nope, we had a specialty company that cleans vintage rugs come in and clean all the carpets and made a few repairs. They really did an amazing job. And the best thing is that they didn’t charge anything because we are going to set up a table for them at the craft fair.

You know there are a lot of people here in Pitman living in Victorian Houses that have vintage carpets and can use their service. Plus, they are going to advertise in the newspaper and on the internet and use pictures of the Theater.”

“Well, what about the molding? It looks new?”

“Connie, I think I mentioned before they found the original molds in the basement of the theater. And we hired a plasterer in Mullica Hill to make molding from the original molds to replace the damaged ones. Don’t they look great?”

“Ok, so let’s go look inside the theater. I left the lights on so you would get the full effect of the Victorian lighting and the stage lit up around the piano and the orchestra pit.”

“Tada, kind of magical, isn’t it?”

“Yes, you can say that again Sam. It is absolutely magical. Just the effect we wanted it to have when it is shown to the public.”

“Alright, take a seat, and I’ll turn down the lights and turn on the piano. Close your eyes. I’ll tell you when I want you to look.”

Sam makes his way behind the stage and hits the lights on the orchestra pit, and then comes on stage and turns on the player piano. As Walt and Connie look about in awe, they hear. “Somewhere Over The Rainbow” soundtrack. And they start clapping. And then they see a movie screen descends, and There is Judy Garland singing her heart out.

“Oh, Sam, I am so impressed. The theater looks amazing. And Judy Garland up there on the screen, who could top her?”

“Here’s my baby, and the surprise is, she’s finished, completely restored to her grand self. Here’s a little background information just in case you don’t realize how awesome this piano is. First of all, it is a self-playing piano. It has a mechanism that operates and controls the piano with pre-recorded music on this perforated paper called rolls. And this beauty here is also a pipe organ. And as I mentioned before, there is a blower room in the basement. It’s now in excellent condition, and the piano had no vacuum leaks. I was able to contact The QRS Company out of Buffalo, New York, and I ordered all new rolls.”

“Congratulations, Sam, you have really surpassed our expectations.”

“Thanks, Connie it was challenging, and I’m proud of myself. I have already received two calls from prospective clients who would like me to see if I can get their player pianos in working order.”

“Oh Sam, let me get some pictures of you and this beautiful player piano that’s also a pipe organ. Why don’t you stand next to the piano? And that way, we get the piano in all of its beauty next to one of the few people who could have resurrected it. Wonderful, I have some great shots to choose from for the paper this week.

—–“Great job, Sam. I knew you had it in you. Let’s go take a look at the rest of the theater. And see how much progress has been made.”

“I have to make a stop in the ladies’ room, guys. I’ll meet you in the lobby in a few minutes. And then I have some news to tell you.”

“Sure, Connie, take your time; we’ll wait for you.”

“Thanks, guy. I won’t be long.”

Walt and Sam are walking around the lobby, looking at all the subtle changes that have occurred since the renovation began. “Oh, Walt, look over here at the snack counter. They found an original popcorn popper from the early 1920s and get this a cotton candy machine.”

“Oh, Sam, they are really awesome. They are going to blow people away and look at all that candy. Including some of my favorites, red hot dollars, candy buttons, watermelon slices, green leaves, licorice whips, and my very favorite sugar daddies. I feel a sugar rush just looking at all this candy.”

“Oh, hey guys, sorry to take so long. Well, it really looks great. Look at all that candy. You know, when I was a kid, I practically ruined my teeth with all the candy I ate. At Halloween, I used to go out Trick or Treating until ten o’clock at night. I had a pillowcase, and I would fill it to the top. Then the next day I would eat so much of it. I would feel sick.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“You can add my name to that list to Connie and Walt. I was a candyholic. So, what’s the big surprise, Connie?”

“OK, hold on, this is going to make the top of your head blow off. Ready…”

“Yeah, we’re ready. Tell us already, Connie.”

“Well, a few weeks back, I mentioned that I knew a guy who knew a guy who worked on the NY Times, and he wrote an article about what we are doing here in Pitman Theater. And he mentioned all the famous people that played in our little town. And guess what???”

“What already? What do you want a drum roll?” asked Walt.

“Couldn’t hurt Walt. Well, one of his readers is distantly related to our own Raymond Goldstone, and he has agreed to come to Pitman the day of the grand reopening, and he inherited all that remains of the Goldstone’s magic box, including the buzz saw. And get this, he is a magician, and he is willing to perform some of his magic in our own little Pitman Theater. That’s right here in person the day of the Grand Reopening and the Pitman Craft Show. Ta Da.”

“Holy Mackerel, this is absolutely awesome. This is going to put our town on the map.”

“Yeah, it will, and I am going to advertise this event from now until the Big Day—all thanks to our buddy here, Sam. Who has turned out to be quite the magician himself. Take a bow, buddy. You are our hero. Take a bow, Sam, you deserve it.”

And with that, Sam took a deep bow. His face is as red as a beet. He never felt this good in his whole life. His smile reaches from ear to ear. And the day of the Craft Fair, people come from far and wide and had to be bussed from all the small towns around Pitman. There isn’t a single parking spot left for miles. Over forty thousand people showed up. And it did indeed put the little town of Pitman on the map.

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THE UNEXPECTED PEN PAL

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I was staring out my kitchen window at the rain that was pouring down hard. In fact, it looked like the wind was picking up because the trees were swaying back and forth. Some people love the rain, but I’m not one of them. And this rain looked, for all intents and purposes, as if it might turn into a hurricane. As it was hurricane season, I thought I should get myself in gear and prepare myself for the worst.

I was about to close the curtain and get busy when I saw a lone figure struggling to walk up to my driveway. I realized it was our mailman. He was wearing a long raincoat in an attempt to keep dry, but his head was bare, and the torrential rain was pouring down his face. He slowly made his way up my driveway. His hair was plastered to his balding head. He pulled open the door of my mailbox and shoved the letters, or most likely bills, into the box. And then slammed the door closed again with all his might. And then, he slowly made his way across the street to my neighbor’s house and repeated the same painful procedure with our new neighbor Brent’s mailbox.

In the back of my mind, I said, “god, what an awful job. Walking up and down the lonely streets, shoving mail in people’s mailboxes day in and day out until you’re old enough to retire. Then, he would be sitting at home looking out the window for his mailman to deliver his letters, bills, and useless advertisements. Life can often be mind-numbing.

I considered making a run for it and grabbing my mail, but I decided to wait for the downpour to subside. About forty-five minutes later, I realized that I hadn’t heard the rain pounding on the windows for a while. I went into the kitchen and looked out the window. And sure enough, it had stopped raining. I double-timed it to the mailbox and pulled open the door. And to my surprise, there were about ten pieces of mail. I know this will sound weird, but for some reason, I’ve always looked forward to getting my mail every day. I know that seems weird, but my life holds a few surprises for me. Each day follows one another. And my routine rarely varies.

As I head back into my house, I notice that one piece of mail doesn’t look like a bill at all. And I thought, oh, I must have gotten someone else’s mail by mistake. It happens occasionally. I arrived inside my house unscathed and only slightly damp. I plopped the mail down on the kitchen table and grabbed my cup of tea off the counter. I briefly leafed through the mail and was about to go back to paying my bills when I noticed an envelope with a stamp that wasn’t from America. I checked the front of the letter again, and sure enough, it was addressed to me. How strange and unexpected.

I put the envelope up to the kitchen window to see if I could read any part of it. But, no, I couldn’t see a thing. So, I went over to the kitchen drawer and grabbed a small knife. And I carefully opened the top of the envelope since I wanted to keep the envelope intact. The return address on the envelope seemed vaguely familiar. But I couldn’t remember where I had heard the name before.

As I unfolded the letter, I looked at the date. And it had been mailed four days ago. And then I recognized the stamp. Lo and behold, the letter had been mailed from Ireland. I sat there dumbfounded and said out loud….”Well, who in the world is this from?”

As I opened the letter, I noticed that it was handwritten in beautiful script. It’s so unusual to receive a letter that is handwritten nowadays. Since most people either type the letter on their computer and print it out, or they avoid snail mail altogether and use email. For some reason, the handwriting looked familiar, but I couldn’t imagine who it was from.

It was signed by Kelly O’Brian. At first, I couldn’t quite a place who Kelly O” Brian was. And then it dawned on me. I used to have a penpal long ago when I was young. And we communicated for many years. That is until I graduated from high school and started attending college at Temple University in Philadelphia. Pa. After that, we lost touch. And I guess over time, the whole experience faded away.

As I began to read the letter, it dawned on me that the Kelly who wrote me this letter was indeed my old pen pal from when I was just a kid. Only now she was married, and her name was Kelly Rafferty. Well, what in the world could this be all about? I couldn’t imagine why she was contacting me after so many years had passed by.

I began reading the letter, trying to take it all in. It was such an unexpected surprise as I hadn’t heard from or spoken to Kelly for so long. I tried to remember just why she and I had stopped communicating. And the only reason I could recall is that we were both entering college, and I guess what with college classes and making new friends over time, we just stopped writing. I wish that hadn’t happened, but it did.

And now here she was contacting me. I don’t know how she found my current address, but somehow she did. It seems as if she had become a writer of short stories and had several fictional novels published. She named several, and I thought, Wow, that’s amazing. I knew she was a fabulous writer just from the letters she wrote me and described in such detail where she lived her family, and her great love of Ireland. In fact, one of the books she published was based on our long-term friendship via letter writing. She said, in her fictional version of our letter-writing friendship, we eventually met.

She went on to say that she was wondering if I was up to a visit from her since her book was going to be published in the United States as well. And she was going to be in New York in two weeks. She wasn’t sure how long she would be visiting the USA. But she would really like to see me. I didn’t answer her right away. I was somewhat taken aback by this unexpected event. My life is and always has been predictable. I work nine to five, then I cook dinner, watch TV, and go to bed. On the weekends, I read or watched old movies. The only variation I have in my daily life is on my two weeks of vacation. I go to Atlantic City for two weeks.

I walk up and down the boardwalk in the morning and then again after I eat dinner. Occasionally, I go to the casinos. Usually, I play the slots. Last year, I actually won five hundred dollars and almost went out of my mind with excitement. I jumped up and down, yelling I won, I won. A crowd gathered and kept yelling, “How much, how much?” And when I finally calmed down, I said, ten thousand dollars.

And they all cheered. It took me a full two days to finally settle down and stop telling everybody I saw on the boardwalk how much I won. The only reason I stopped was because an old lady came over to me and said, “Dear, you should stop telling everyone you won a lot of money, or someone is going to rob you blind. I looked at her, and I thought she was absolutely right, I must have lost my mind temporarily. And she was the last person I talked to about that money. When I got home, I went to my bank and deposited the mullah in my savings account.

And I hadn’t taken a vacation since then. I thought, well, why the hell shouldn’t I take a couple of weeks off? And visit with an old friend, especially one that I have never met in person before. So, I finally wrote back and responded, “You know, I think that is a fantastic idea.” So, I gave her my email and told her to send me her traveling plans and where and when we could meet. I would make a reservation at the nearest hotel, or she could stay at my tiny apartment if she wanted to. And then we could spend her time in New York City together.

At first, I was a little overwhelmed by the whole unexpected event. And then, after a couple of days, I was stoked about the whole upcoming visit. I started making plans for our time together. The days up to the visit passed slowly. But finally, her arrival date was only a day away. I took the next train to New York City, checked in at the hotel, and made my way to the JFK airport. It was unbelievably crowded, but I tried to keep my cool. I made my way to Terminal 4, where the International Flights land.

When it was almost time for her flight to land, I started getting somewhat anxious and excited at the same time. I wondered if I would even recognize her. Since I hadn’t seen pictures of her when she was only a teenager. I wondered if she would recognize me. She told me she would be wearing all green, including wearing a Shamrock on her jacket. The flight was about twenty minutes late because the plane encountered turbulence because of storms.

I was staring out the window, waiting for her plane to land, when I heard over the intercom that her flight would be landing in fifteen minutes. I planned on taking her to McDonald’s because Kelly felt that it best represented American food if you can believe that.

The next thing I knew, her flight was deplaning, and the passengers were coming off the plane into the waiting area. I stared intently at all the passengers who might be her. Finally, I saw a young woman about my age, and she was wearing a somewhat hideous green jacket with a giant shamrock on it. I laughed out loud. I started waving at her like a madwoman. And soon enough, she started walking towards me. And when she was a couple of feet away from me, we both walked toward each other and hugged. I said, “I would have recognized you anywhere.” And we both started to laugh because if she weren’t wearing that giant shamrock, I wouldn’t have known her at all. “Dolores, I wouldn’t have recognized you at all, either. Time does fly by, doesn’t it?”
As soon as we were able to stop laughing, we hugged again, and I said,” Do you have any other luggage?”

And she said, “No, just this small bag. If I have to, I can buy some clothes here.”

“Well, maybe not here in New York City. But, perhaps in the suburbs..The stores here are quite expensive. “Well, I do have my heart set on bringing home some couture NYC designer clothing.

“Really, OK if that’s what you want.” Let’s head outside. We have to take a tram to the parking lot, and then we have to find my car. It will be a bit of a walk, I’m afraid. This is a really big airport.”

“No problem. It was a long flight, and I’ll be relieved to stretch my legs. By the way, I don’t know I would have recognized you either if you weren’t waving your arms like a maniac. And then she laughed and laughed. Let’s go, shall we?”

We arrived at the parking area relatively unscathed. Even though people bumped into us in a hurry to get on or off the tram. And then I was hit in the head by someone’s suitcase when they were pulling it off the overhead rack. I thought it would kill me. It was so heavy. God knows what or who she had jammed in that suitcase. It must have weighed twenty or more pounds. And when it hit me, I screamed at the top of my lungs, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, look where you’re going. You almost killed me.” Everyone in the tram laughed their heads off. Which only served to make me madder and madder. And then I yelled at them and said, “And you can all go straight to hell.”

“Well, Dolores, you always told me you had one hell of a temper, and you do. You would feel right at home in Ireland, as you probably know the Irish are known for their temper.”

“Really, well, maybe all those years of you and me writing to each other. I picked up your temper through osmoses.”

“Oz, what?” And then Kelly laughed and laughed. And they finally arrived at the parking facility. And luckily, we found my car right away. The ride back to my apartment was bumper to bumper, as usual. And it was full of New York drivers who didn’t have a lot of patience either. And they were bumping and yelling at one another as we headed to my apartment. We were near my building, and I scanned the street up and down. I saw someone pulling out of a parking spot and gunned my gas to get to the parking spot as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, someone coming from the opposite direction did the same thing. But my car was smaller than theirs, and I managed to pull into the spot like my pants were on fire.

“Dear god.“ Kelly screamed at the top of her lungs. I looked over at her and said, “What’s the matter? What are you screaming about?”

“She looked at me like I was stark raving mad. You almost got us killed.”

“What? No, that’s just everyday driving in New York City. Welcome to America. LOL

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YOU HAVE ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD

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I‘m flat broke. And unfortunately, I was recently laid off from my job. It was not the first time this happened to me. But what can I say? I’m just unlucky. My former boss informed me last Friday that he was going to let me go. Because I was unreliable. I frequently called out sick, and also, when I did come to work, I was almost always late. And that when I did go to work that I was always late returning after lunch.

I tried to reinforce to him that I was not unreliable. I was unlucky. Didn’t he ever hear that bad things happen to good people? Apparently, he didn’t. He told me that this was his last warning if I came in late one more time or I called out altogether. I might as well quit because when I finally did come in, I was going to be fired. I reassured myself that this was not the first time he has said this to me. And I took this as just another warning and that there was no way in hell that he was going actually to fire me. After all, I have been a loyal employee for over ten years. And I was one of his best workers.

And then more bad luck headed my way. I was on my way out the door when I got a call that my younger brother needed a ride to school. We were only half-brothers as he had a different father. In fact, my mother has been married more times than I can count. And she has had six children, all of whom have a different father. I kid you not. Why in the world would anyone who obviously is really bad at commitment and marriage keep repeating the same mistake over and over again? I’m the oldest sibling, and I felt some responsibility for my younger siblings. After all, none of their fathers are around. So, off I went to pick up my brother and take him to school. He was in his senior year of high school. And I remember only too well how important that senior year of high school was to me.

Thirty minutes later, I arrived at my mom’s house. I expected my brother to be standing outside the front door waiting for me. But, no, he wasn’t outside waiting for me. I jumped out of my car and sprinted up to the front door. I turned the knob, and alas, the door was locked. I rang the doorbell several times. Nada. I banged as hard as I could on the door and the window next to it. I didn’t see anyone. And then I saw a piece of paper on the ground next to the front step. Apparently, it was stuck on the door but fell down. I picked it up. It read, “Charlie, my friend Olaf came and picked me up. Sorry for causing you any trouble. Talk to you later. And it was signed by your ever-loving brother, Nick.

I felt my blood pressure hit the ceiling. I was going to be late again. I would surely lose my job. My brother Nick was so unreliable. Why the hell didn’t he pick up the phone and call my cell and tell me he didn’t need me to take him to school? I was so mad I thought I might explode. God, why are so many people so unreliable? I will never understand it. I ran back to my car, and I was about to get behind the wheel when I noticed that my left rear time was flat. This was absolutely the last straw. I was surely going to get fired the moment I stepped through the front door of my office. I considered my situation and tried to think of some excuse my boss would except. And I couldn’t think of one single thing to tell him that I hadn’t said before.

I got out the spare tire and tools from my trunk and set about replacing the flat tire. It was getting hot outside, and I started sweating like a pig. I heard myself grunting too. I kept going. Finally, I finished putting on the spare tire and threw my tools into the trunk. Then I jumped into the front seat. I glanced in the rearview mirror, and I hardly recognized myself. I saw a red-faced, sweaty middle-aged man who looked like his better days were way, way behind him. I almost started crying. Can you imagine a full-grown middle-aged man crying in his beat-up fifteen-year-old car? And then I thought, I’ll tell my boss that I stopped to help a woman whose car broke down and that is why I was late and filthy.

Yes, that is what I would do. I’m not a very good liar, but what the hell did I have to lose? I was going to get fired for sure, just for being late. So, off I went.

I tried to drive under the speed limit, but I kept looking at the dashboard to check the time, and the next thing I know, I had run a red light. And then I heard a police siren behind me, and the red light on the police car was flashing. I said out loud, “Oh, oh, looks like somebody is in trouble.” And, low and behold, someone was in trouble. And guess what? It was me. I was dead meat.

Or I would be by the end of the day for sure. I pulled over. And I saw a cop that looked like he was about seven foot tall headed my way. And he didn’t look happy or even mildly amused. He looked mad as hell. He looked like he was ready to pull his weapon and put me out of my misery. I almost felt like telling him, “Just kill me already. I can’t take anymore. Just shoot me and get it over already.”

And guess what? That is exactly what I said, “So, officer, just kill me already. I can’t take anymore. I’m going to be fired for being late for work once too many times. So, take out that big, old gun of yours and pull the trigger. You’ll be doing me a favor. I’m done. I can’t take anymore. Just do it. I’ll even close my eyes.” And that was the last thing I remember until I woke up two days later.

I opened my eyes, and I was in a room that I didn’t recognize. It was a sickly shade of green. And there was an IV attached to my left arm, and some bluish liquid was being pumped into my arm. I looked around, and there was another guy in the bed next to mine. And he was tied to his bed and in four-point restraints. I yelled, “What in the name of god is going on here? Let me out of this bed. I’m not hurt. Let me go.”

“Mr. Darnell, Charlie, calm down. Let me explain where you are and what has happened to you.”

“You were involved in an altercation of sorts with a policeman. Well, actually, it was a state trooper. You tried to take his gun away from him, which is not a good idea under any circumstances. Apparently, you were getting a ticket for unsafe driving and threatening the trooper to allow you to get on your way to work because you thought you were going to get fired for being late again. Do you remember this experience at all?”

“No, I do not. You must be mistaken. I can not imagine any circumstances where I would handle a gun, let alone take a loaded weapon away from a state trooper. This is some unfortunate misunderstanding or mix-up. You have to let me go. I am going to be fired for sure if I’m late again.”

“ Sir, you have been here for over ten days. Your behavior was out of control. You fought and struggled with the doctors and anyone else that tried to help you get under control. You are on a thirty-day hold. You may very well be sent to the state hospital, Ancora.”

“What, Ancora???” You are the one who is out of his mind. I demand to speak to my attorney and see my family immediately. This is against the law to hold someone against their will.”

“No, sir, it is certainly within our rights to remand an out-of-control person who attacks a policy trooper or officer and threatens them with bodily harm. So, you need to calm down and try to think rationally. Your therapist will be stopping by in the next hour or so to check on you. Try to stay calm if you start acting out physically again. You will find yourself under heavy sedation and put in four-point restraints. I kid you not. Do you understand now?”

“Yes, I understand. I will calm down. I will not threaten anyone with harm. I made a mistake in judgment, that is all. Can I please talk to my doctor or my family or at least talk to my mother on the phone? She is highly reliant on me, and she must be out of her mind with worry.

“Your family will be visiting in good time. But not all at once, one person at a time. Do you understand? And you must stay calm, or they will not be allowed to visit again for a long, long time. Understand?”

“How long is a long, long time?”
“ It could be up to six months or longer.”

“Oh, my god, my boss will never let me come back to work again. What am I going to do?”

“Well, you will have plenty of time to contemplate that, sir. Perhaps you should try and take a nap. And you will be better able to contemplate your future plans. Things will become clearer soon. “Oh, I almost forgot your boss left this note for you. He asked me to give it to you when you were feeling a bit better. Here you go.” And then he handed me the note and turned and left the room, and closed the door behind him. I carefully open the note, and there were two papers in the envelope. One said, “Charlie, so sorry to hear you are not well, but perhaps in time, you will be in a better frame of mind. Needless to say, we had to lay you off because you have missed so many work days due to your untimely mental breakdown. We are all thinking about you. And hope you are well soon. Best Wishes. Oh, by the way, because we had to lay you off, you no longer have health insurance, and the company will not be reimbursing your incarceration, I mean hospital expenses. Best Wishes, Thomas Moore CPA.

At this particular moment, my only thought was, “Well, there’s no place to go but up now. And that is when I simultaneously started crying and laughing at the same time. So, I decided just to put one foot in front of the other and hope for the best. After all, I already had the worst.

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AS TIME GOES BY, TICK-TOCK, TICK TOCK

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Life can be difficult at times. Sometimes you can become so overcome with fear and frustration you don’t have the strength to get out of bed. I have to admit that I’ve always been fearful of life’s challenges. I never felt confident about anything. I always felt overwhelmed. I can remember feeling this way since I was a young child. I often overheard my siblings talking about me behind my back. And even my parents complained about my fears.

It was never a choice for me. I didn’t choose to be afraid. My first memory of being afraid was the day I started first grade. I am the youngest child in my family. I had much older siblings. They always seemed to be happy to be going to school. I couldn’t imagine myself walking out the front door and walking by myself to the school. And then having to come face to face with a whole lot of children I didn’t know. And then having to go to school when the bell rang.

During the last few weeks of the Summer before starting school, I began to feel terrified. I started getting stomach aches every morning. My mother finally took me to the doctor’s to see if there was something physical going on with me. After the doctor examined me, he said, Well, Kathy is physically healthy. I have no doubt that the stomach aches and difficulty sleeping are related to her fear of going to school. He told my mother that many children have this fear. That it’s normal. And I would be fine once I started school and made some friends, and realized there was really nothing to fear.

But that’s not what happened. On the first day of school, I was absolutely filled with dread. There were too many children yelling and screaming and running all over the schoolyard. And I didn’t know any of them. My best friend was a year younger than I was and wouldn’t be going to school for another year. I stood in the middle of the schoolyard. I didn’t know what I should do. It was so noisy, and the kids seemed out of control. They were running in every direction and screaming and jumping. It was all too much. I wanted to go home. I started crying.

One of the teachers came over to me and said,” What’s the matter?” I just started crying even more. She took my hand and said, “Let’s just find a nice quiet place, and we’ll have a little talk. And you can tell me what’s going on.”

I followed her, and we walked to the far side of the playground that was opposite the street. The cars were flying by at an amazing rate of speed, and I let out a yelp. And tears started rolling down my face once again. The teacher said, “Here, take this tissue and wipe your face and then take a deep breath. And try to calm down.”

I took a deep breath and then looked down at the ground. I didn’t want to talk to her; I wanted to go home. She said, “OK, now try to tell me why you are so upset.”

I looked up at her and said, “I hate it here. I want to go home. I want my mother.”

“What’s your name, dear?

“My name is Kathy. I want to go home. I want my mother.”

“Oh, well, a lot of children feel that way on their first day of school. But you will get used to it. You will make a lot of new friends. And you will learn a lot. So, how about you try and take it one day at a time? And any time you are upset or afraid, you can come to talk to me. My name is Ms. Norris. And as a matter of fact, I will be your teacher this year. And I promise you things will get better.”

I looked up at her, and I said quietly, “OK.”

“Alright, in a few moments, it will be time to go into the classroom. And you will be assigned a seat and given books. Some day soon, you will begin learning to read. And I promise you you will absolutely love reading. OK.”

“OK.” She said, when the bell rings, you get in line with all the other children in my class. And stand there quietly while the older children say the Pledge of Allegiance.” You stand quietly because you haven’t learned the words yet. But, soon you will learn them. OK?”

I stood there quietly, waiting for the bell to ring. But, just before that happened, two little girls came over to me and said, “ Hi, what’s your name?” Our names are Irene, and she’s Christine. Do you want to be friends?”

I stared at them for a few minutes with my mouth hanging open. I was afraid to say anything. Because I thought this was some kind of joke. Because my older sister pretended to be my friend sometime, and then they would laugh and me. And call me a big baby.

They didn’t say anything else, so I finally said, “My name is Kathy. I live down the street. This is my first day of school. I’m afraid I want to go home. I hate it here. It’s too loud here. I don’t know anybody.” And then I just stared at them.

“Kathy, you know us now. So, you can hang around with us. And today is a half day. That means we can go home at lunchtime. And come back tomorrow. OK?”

I looked at them and said quietly, “OK.”

Irene and Christine stood next to me and talked and talked without taking a breath. And then a bell rang, and everyone started running and getting into a line. Christine said, “Kathy, follow us, and get in line. We’re going into the classroom and sitting at a desk.”

“OK, I said, and then I began chewing my fingernails, which is something I do when I’m scared, which is most of the time. I wished I was home at my mom’s or my best friend’s house. She didn’t have to go to school because she is younger than me. I wish I were younger. My nose started running because of crying, and I didn’t have a tissue. So, it ran down my face. So, I rubbed it on my arm. Some big boy said, “Look at that kid wiping her runny nose on her sleeve.”

Everybody started slowly walking forward in a line. And then we got up to the school and started marching inside. I wanted to run away as fast as I could. But I didn’t. I just kept following the line into the horrible brick building. It was an old building; the walls were painted a weird green color in the hallway. I saw a water fountain. And I ran over to it to get a drink. I heard someone yell, “Get back in line. They were looking straight at me. So, I got back in line. We slowly made our way to the classroom. The teacher who talked to me outside said,” When I call out your name, take the next available seat. Understand?” Everyone said, “Yes, teacher.” At the same time. Not me. I wasn’t going to talk until someone told me to.

Finally, the teacher called out my name. She said,” Please take the next available seat please.”

I looked up and down the aisle and didn’t know where to go. I felt like I was going to start crying again. And Then I heard a voice whispering in my ear. It was Irene. Just walk down the aisle where kids are sitting and sit in the next empty seat. And that is exactly what I did. And the next thing I knew, I was sitting at the desk, and Christine and Irene were sitting behind me. I took a deep breath.

The morning went by slowly. I had to go to the bathroom. But I didn’t know where it was, or if I was allowed to go or had to wait until I got home. I couldn’t sit still. The next thing I knew, the teacher was standing next to me and said, “So, what is the problem? Why can’t you sit still?”

I didn’t want to look at her. I was afraid I would start crying again. So, I whispered, I have to go to the bathroom.” She said, “You have to learn to speak up. Say it loud enough for everyone to hear you. “So, I did, I yelled. I have to go pee.” The teacher said, OK, make a right outside the classroom door and walk down the hall until you see a sign next to the door with a picture of a girl. That’s the girl’s bathroom. And then come right back here.” She said in a loud voice. And all the kids started laughing.

I got up from my seat and walk down the hall. I saw the sign with the drawing of a girl on it. But I didn’t go into the ladies’ room. I saw the door that we came in from the schoolyard, and I went out the door. I was outside. I decided I didn’t want to go to school anymore. And I ran all the way home and ran into the house. My mother was in the kitchen, and she said, “Kathy, you are home early. Are you alright?”

“No, I have to go to the bathroom and the teacher kept yelling at me. I hate school and I’m not going back, ever.” And that is when I ran into our bathroom and locked the door. After a few minutes, my mother came knocking at the door. She said, Kathy, please come out. The school called and they said you have to come back to class and stay until lunchtime.”

I finally opened the door and my mother was standing there waiting. She said, “Please come into the kitchen so we can talk. She gave me a glass of water and said, “Kathy, everyone has to go to school. It is scary in the beginning. But, you will get used to it. You will learn a lot of new things like reading. And you will make some new friends and they can come over and visit with you sometimes after school. Come in and eat your lunch. And after that, you will have to go back to school. And stay until three o’clock. And then you can come home again. You are not allowed to run away. “Do you understand?”

“I looked at my mother and said, “Yes, I understand. I hate school, I hate the teacher.”

“ As I said, “You will get used to it. But, you have to go to school, it is a law. Now, how about eating your lunch and I will walk you back to school and your classroom.”

When my mother dropped me off at school. All the kids were out in the schoolyard running around. They all looked alike I didn’t see my new friends right away. And I started to feel scared again. And then I heard Christine and Irene calling out my name, “Kathy, come play with us.”

So, that is what I did. We played together until we were told we had to come back into the classroom. I sat at the desk the teacher told me to sit in. I looked around and I noticed some of the other kids looked kind of scared too. So, I knew I wasn’t the only one who didn’t like it there. But, they were listening to the teacher. So, I tried to do the same thing. I didn’t understand everything she said, but I tried hard to understand her.

It seemed like the afternoon went on and on. I started feeling sleepy. And I felt my eyes closing. The next thing I knew the teacher was rapping a stick on my desk. And she said,” none of that. Go to bed earlier tonight, if you are still tired. You are not allowed to take naps during class.”

It seemed like there were a lot of rules in school. It was only the end of the first day and I was sick of it. When I got home my mother said,” so, Kathy how was school?” I hate it. But, I did make two new friends. And they asked if they could come over here after school one day and play.”

“Well, that’s wonderful. Do you have any homework?”
“Homework, you meant I have to do work at home for school. That’s not fair.”

“Well, Kathy life doesn’t always seem fair. But, it’s all about growing up to become an adult and being able someday to take care of yourself.”

“Do you mean I’m not always going to live with you and Dad?”
“Well, probably not. When you become a grown-up you will eventually want to have your own apartment or house.”

I looked at her like she was out of her mind. I knew I would always want to live with my mom and dad. Why wouldn’t I”

As it turned out all the things my teachers and my parents told me about going to school, learning to read, and growing up and getting a job were true.

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YOU NEVER KNOW WHO WILL COME KNOCKING AT YOUR FRONT DOOR

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How can I begin? I guess it all began during the pandemic. I was working at home for the first time.

At first, I thought, finally, some peace. No more co-workers constantly interrupting me and breaking my momentum with their endless questions. I was always constantly stressed out because I wasn’t able to concentrate on my current project.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying the pandemic wasn’t a horrendous occurrence. It was, for sure. Millions of people were affected, and before the vaccine was developed, many more died, or their health was forever affected by the virus. But, my own experience was that I learned that it wasn’t horrendous to live by myself and not see anyone else for days, sometimes weeks, or even months.

The isolation of living alone and not seeing or speaking to anyone was difficult for me in the beginning. But, as time went by, I became accustomed to it. And then there was the fact that I decided to get a pet to keep me coming. At first, I considered a dog, then a cat, and then a bird. Perhaps a parrot.

I finally came to the conclusion that, eventually, I would be going back to work. And I couldn’t take the dog with me. A cat or bird would be a better choice. And then, I learned that my elderly neighbor had passed away. And she didn’t have any family, and I made the decision that I would adopt her little dog. Chichi, who was a miniature dachshund. His bark was kind of high-pitched and annoying, but I got used to it in no time.

And before I knew it, I was in love with that little dog. And anybody who tried to take that dog away from me would have to pull it out of my arms after they killed me. Anyways, Chichi and I became inseparable. And we took long walks twice a day in my neighborhood. And my neighbors would wave at me from behind their living curtains, too afraid to come outside and talk to me lest they be exposed to the virus. But who could blame them you couldn’t be sure that they didn’t have contact with someone that was exposed to the virus but didn’t have any symptoms yet. The pandemic was a complete and utter nightmare. Not in my wildest nightmares did I ever imagine that such a thing could occur in our modern-day society.

After about six months, I started getting antsy. I really needed to talk to someone. And then I remembered social media on the internet. There were places on there like, Facebook, Reddit, and scores of others. And I thought, why the hell not? I would try to make this nightmare of a pandemic into an opportunity to create new relationships.

And so it began. I made a Facebook page for myself. I only put vague descriptions of where I lived and what I did for a living. I wasn’t taking any chances. At least, I didn’t think I was. But only time would tell what this experience would bring into my life, love, companionship, or nothing at all. How in the world would I predict the nightmare that would take place in the next months of my life?

About six months into my isolation, I noticed I had a message sent to me from one of the social media web pages I had joined. I was somewhat nervous, hoping against hope that it would turn out to be my new best friend or, better yet, my one and only true love. Or just a friendly, equally lonely person. Be they men or be they women. And I would once again have a friend in the world. I clicked on the message. And then I held my breath. And low and behold, the message stated,” Hello, I hope this is not too much of an intrusion into your life. But I couldn’t help but notice your profile, and I hoped that you and I could begin a friendship of sorts, even though it would be an online friendship. I have felt so alone ever since this pandemic began, as I am working from home. And my family lives far away. If you are interested, let me know, and I will send a link to my social media page. His name was Kyle Adams.

And so it began. It took me two full days to decide what I should say in my response to the person who sent me a friend request. I was afraid I would say too much, sound too needy. Or that I would sound boring and pathetic.

Finally, I drafted my message, and I signed my name at the bottom and a rather vague description of myself and my employment situation. And that I was currently working from home. I almost gave up hope when I didn’t get a response for two days. And when I was about to give up, I got a response.

And to my surprise, the message was from a man. I had been certain that the message was from a woman. I became somewhat paranoid about the whole thing. I was both terrified and thrilled at the same time. I found it hard to believe any man would be interested in a woman my age. Who had so little experience in relationships? Be they friend or intimate love relationships. I had always been someone of a loner. And had long ago given up on ever finding love.

So, after several days of going back and forth and trying to decide to send a friend request, I did. And then I waited and waited there was no reply. I gave up and tried to stop thinking about it. And a week later, I noticed that there was indeed a response. It took me all day to get the courage to send the message. I told him my name was Helen and that I was fifty-six years old. That I had been married for ten years but was now divorced. And that I hadn’t dated anyone since that time. And that I lived alone except for my dog, Chichi. That I enjoyed gardening and taking long walks, and hiking. And that presently, I was working from home since the beginning of the pandemic.

The next morning I was surprised to find a response from him. It turns out that he was having a similar experience in that he was working from home since the beginning of the pandemic. And that, at first, he enjoyed the quiet, the solitude, the freedom. But, as time went on, he began to feel isolated. And sometimes he felt like crawling up the walls just from the boredom alone. He didn’t really have any hobbies at all. But he did enjoy walking and hiking as well. And he was happy that we had that in common. And to my surprise, he asked if I would like to meet somewhere and perhaps talk about going hiking.

I thought about it for several days. And then I thought, well, why the hell not? As long as we meet at a public place and not in some out-of-the-way woods where, who knew what could possibly happen? I didn’t want to end up murdered and buried in some woods out in the middle of nowhere. So, I finally sent him a message and told him where we could meet. And that he could recognize me by the big, red hat I would be wearing. I knew I was being paranoid. But bad things do happen to good people. And better safe than sorry etc, etc.

I didn’t hear from him, so I took that as a good sign and started counting the days until we would meet. The morning of our meeting, I realize that I had never asked him what he looked like. So, I had no way of recognizing him. But I went anyway. I hoped he would be able to find me because of my big, red straw hat. I was early as usual. I’ve always been paranoid about being late for anything. As a result, I was always way too early for everything.

Luckily, it was a beautiful day, sunny but cool, and the sky was blue with fluffy white clouds. I took my time driving to our meeting place and tried not to obsess about our meeting. After about fifteen minutes, I see a man in the distance waving at me. So, I wave back. He looks middle-aged with red, curly hair and a red mustache. Unfortunately, I’ve always had a dislike for redheads. But I decided not to make a big deal about it. He keeps waving as he gets closer and closer to me. I had a very strong impulse to tell him he can stop waving now. But I overcame the impulse, thank goodness.

I get out of my car and slowly make my way towards him. I see a big grin spread across his face. And I realize that red hair or not, he is adorable. His smile is hard t resist. As I get closer to him, I take off my hat and wave that at him. I hear him call out, “Helen, is that you? It’s me, Johnathan. I love your hat.”

When I was standing about two feet away from him, I looked at him from head to toe. He was about five foot eight. And as I mentioned earlier, red curly hair and a mustache. He looked back at me and said, “Helen, you look exactly as I hoped you would. It is so nice to see someone up close. Since this whole pandemic thing happened, I have felt so alone and isolated. I always felt I was a loner. But, as it turned out when being alone wasn’t a choice, I didn’t like it at all. I miss the everyday camaraderie of talking to workmates and eating lunch with my co-workers. All the mundane things you take for granted. I’m hoping the pandemic will end soon, and we can get back to some normal day-to-day living. How do you feel about this whole experience?”

“ I agree it has been challenging, to say the least. I, too, live alone, but I have an active social life, going out with friends to dinner and movies, and concerts. I also love square dancing. And there is a club that I attend several times a year where we square dance. It’s a lot of fun. Of course, drinking beer all night lightens the mood too. I also love gardening, and I enjoy reading. I guess none of that sounds exciting, but overall I have a good life and a decent job. And I hope sooner rather than later, this pandemic will end. And we can move forward with our lives once again. So, how do you feel about walking some of the trails in the park now? It’s such a beautiful day.”

“Yes, it sure is. And I love being out in the fresh air and seeing all the trees and plants and wildlife. I’m sick of being cooped up in my house. I’ve been working from home for months. I miss my office mates and eating lunch and sometimes dinner together.”

“Well, shall we be on our way? Have you been to this park before?”

“A couple of times, but not lately.”

As they walked along the path, they both took a deep breath of the fresh air at the same time and then sighed. They looked at each other and smiled. “Kyle, why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself as we walk along? I’m afraid I’m a bit out of shape after all these months of sitting at my kitchen table and doing my work. Not to mention the ten pounds I’ve gained from being in close vicinity to the frig. So, how about we start out slow and work up to speed walking?”

“Well, Helen, I have to admit I’m a bit out of shape myself and all that junk food I’ve been eating instead of eating healthy foods. I hate living by myself, and I’m not much of a cook either. When I was married, I was quite a bit heavier since my wife, her name Jasmine was an amazing cook.”

“Oh, you were married. Did you get a divorce? How long ago did this happen?”

“No, I didn’t get a divorce my wife passed away. She had breast cancer. They tried to save her in every way they could. But, the cancer had spread and eventually took her life. She was a wonderful woman. She passed away four years ago. We never had the opportunity to have children. Sorry, I don’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that. She must have been a wonderful woman. Life sends us a great many challenges in life. You never know what is going to happen next. I mean, who in the world ever thought there would be a pandemic that affected the whole world population? It makes you realize that life is a gift and we shouldn’t waste a minute of it, doesn’t it?”

“You absolutely right, Kyle, so how about we make a promise that from this moment forward, we do not waste one moment of our lives looking back at our mistakes. And we make every effort to be optimistic and make every moment count. Do you agree?”

“Yes, I agree from this moment forward, we will make the most of our lives.” And they smiled at one another and bumped elbows. And from that moment, they both made every effort to live each day fully and enjoy all the good things in life. And avoid stress and negativity one step at a time.

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Writer's Blog by Susan A. Culver

Category Archives: Fiction

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