The other day I wrote about my writers block, well it finally broke, and now the words have just been pouring out of me, and I can’t stop writing!! (See, Winchester, I told you I was addicted to writing as well!) 😉
I wanted to share an excerpt from my current work in progress. I know I’ve said this before, but I really think this is the best piece of fiction I’ve ever written! I’d love to hear your feedback!
How do I do this? How do I tell the man I love more than anyone or anything that I have to leave him forever? How do I break his heart? How do I break mine?
Growing up in the Appalachian mountains of far western Maryland wasn’t always easy. Over half of the population lives in poverty, and while my parents weren’t exactly poor, they weren’t wealthy. Many of my friends went on vacations to the beach, amusement parks, and zoos. I didn’t go anywhere that wasn’t a field trip or with the youth group. Part of that was also because my dad worked all of the time, and my mom was too busy taking care of her mother to even notice that I existed. I don’t mean any ill towards my mother. I know she was doing what she had to, but through an eight-year-old’s eyes, I always felt like I was second best. I lived in the shadow of my older sister, Janet. She was the smart one, the pretty one, the cool one. I was the nerd with her nose stuck in a book, the one that nobody noticed. Sure, I had friends, but I never really felt like any of them truly understood me. None of them understood my love of books, none of them understood my need for escape to other worlds, to go on adventures with fictional characters. Nobody identified with my deep love of music or my ability to feel the pain of others.
“Why are you crying, you don’t even know her?” or “We can’t even watch the news because you break out in tears,” were among the common comments I would hear.
Until I met Michael Williams. My Michael has always told me he was always drawn to things that most people fail to see. The reflections in the raindrops hanging off of a tree branch after the pouring rain, an antique mirror that has seen the eyes of the broken, the happy, and the innocent, the sunrise, and me.
I remember the day I met him, like it was yesterday.
I was standing in line at Traders Coffee Shop and he was standing behind me. The barista started to flirt with me,
“Are you from Tennessee, because you’re the only ten I see.” He said.
Michael laughed, out loud, he couldn’t help it, making it all the harder for me not to join him in laughter. He tried so hard to cover it up with a cough, but his cover had already been blown.
“I’m sorry,” he told the barista. “I didn’t mean to ruin your attempt at flirting with this lovely lady in front of me, it’s just,” he paused for a second, collecting his thoughts, “well, to be quite frank, extremely cheesy.”
This frustrated the barista. “Oh, you think you could do better?”
“Well,” another pause. “Yes.”
The barista stepped back and motioned with his arm for Michael to try.
Michael moved in front of me, “Normally, I wouldn’t offer you some pick up line. I would just offer to buy your coffee and ask you to join me at that table by the window with the perfect view of the lake, but since I’m being put on the spot,” he sighed thinking of something to say that might impress me. He holds out the sleeve of his hunter green and white, flannel, button up shirt and says, “Feel my shirt.”
I did as requested.
“Know what that’s made out of?”
“Flannel?” I asked, confusingly, which Michael still tells me to this day he found adorable.
He chuckled, “No, boyfriend material.”
I threw my head back in laughter, and just as the barista was about to gloat, I placed my hand on his arm and replied, “That’s the best pick up line I’ve ever heard.”
Michael smiled at me, causing his dark brown eyes to glisten, and I knew right at that moment that I was going to fall in love with him.
“Will you have coffee with me by the window with the perfect view of the lake?”
“I’d love to.”
We sat at the table and talked for hours. He made me laugh, which instantly pulled me in. He was so attractive, he still is, but I found myself captivated by his beautiful eyes. He wasn’t what society would call hot, but in my eyes, he was the most handsome man I had ever laid eyes on, and I knew by the end of our date that I wanted to marry him.
Now, I’m sitting here, in my window seat that he built me for my birthday 5 years ago, watching him as he mows the lawn. He’s always loved mowing and landscaping, he finds it therapeutic, and I find that watching his muscles flex while he works is well, quite sexy. Tears fall from my eyes as I know my time with him is growing short. How do I tell him?
What are your thoughts?
Love & life lessons,