Writing 101 Day Twelve – How can I forget?

Day Twelve: Dark Clouds on the (Virtual) Horizon

Today’s Prompt: Write a post inspired by a real-world conversation.

We don’t write in a bubble — we write in the world, and what we say is influenced by our experiences. Today, take a cue from something you’ve overheard and write a post inspired by a real-life conversation. Revisit a time when you wish you’d spoken up, reminisce about an important conversation that will always stick with you, or tune in to a conversation happening around you right now and write your reaction.

Take time to listen — to what you hear around you, or what your memories stir up.

Here is my post.

On a dark and dreary day, I was waiting for a train. The sky was overcast, the kind of weather where it appears to be Autumn, but in actuality is April. The kind of weather that looks like a downpour, but restrains itself to on the verge of a downpour for the rest of the day.

In terms of conversations, it wasn’t much. What got me was what wasn’t said as well as what I heard. Two people, a man and woman. Both had tears in their eyes and on their faces. They were in an embrace, and she turned to him and said, I’ll never forget.” He took his handkerchief and wiped her eyes. She grabbed his hand and wiped the tears on his cheek with the handkerchief. The pull of their feelings for each other was undeniable and I wanted to stay in the presence of their moment as much as they did not want to leave it. It was as if they were writing a story I had to know more about.

I’ve thought of them, since I first bore witness to some kind of powerful, possibly heartbreaking leave-taking. I’ve considered the reasons they were not going to be together.

In my mind I hear the conversation that did not take place. I’ve wondered if they were long lost siblings, separated at birth and reuniting. Ive wondered about their situation. Was it about meeting the love of your life and not being able to commit to them for reasons of employment, engagement, or fear of commitment?  I’ve wondered if they were once in love and had been unable to work out differences. I’ve wondered if they were having an affair.

Various conversations play in my head around the scene I saw.

She: I can’t believe we’ve found each other.

He: They told me the records were sealed. How did you do it?

She: It doesn’t matter I just knew I wanted to meet you after all these years. I thought that we’d never find each other. You are my baby brother.

He: This day will always stay with me. I wish we didn’t live a continent away from each other.

She I’ll never forget…

OR

He: If we’d only been able to work out the commute.

She: You know I can’t leave my family, they need me now.

He: wearliy I understand, and support you.

She: I’ll forever hold you in my heart.

He: Words will never express how much you mean to me.

She:  I’ll never forget…

OR

She: I love you

He: We will never be a good fit. You will always be searching for something, always trying to climb the corporate ladder.

She: And you will always be married.

He: I can’t leave my wife.

She: I’ll never forget…

Whoever they are, where ever they are, whatever the circumstances, I’ll never know. They inform my life, when I recall them, because their lives were deep rich, full and complicated like most of ours. Because despite whatever sadness invaded their situation the love seemed to overpower it. Because I don’t know the end of their story, my own story, or many of the stories I get involved in. Because they said so little and yet did not need words to say so much.

I’ll never forget…

Writing 101 Day Eleven Home

Although not my home until 12 years past twelve years old, this home holds much of my heart. When I walked into it, I knew we were supposed to live there. There have been only two times in my life when I’ve felt that strong sense of pull towards a place. Didn’t think much about logistics. Didn’t know if we could even afford it. We were not sure we would even get a chance to see it as the realtor who listed it had a contingency on it for a family member. She did not want it shown. It was an old farm house built in the 19th century. Bull’s eye molding, painted white, around all the entryways to each room. There were two rooms that were my home within this home. A small den off the dining room. Yes, it did have 1970’s inspired olive green shag carpeting. But what I loved most about it was the coziness of this 8 by 10 foot room. The exterior wall had built in bookshelves, wall to wall. I thought it was palatial.  I could not believe we were actually able to buy it. It was ours!

The next room I loved was the kitchen. Another built in, this was the original cupboard to the farmhouse kitchen. Beautiful glass doors to the upper part of the cupboard. An Old Flour Bin, that hinged and was lined so that 25 pounds or so of flour could be stored there. A side porch off the kitchen, where a raccoon once attacked the screen on a big back window and decided to stroll on in and check things out.

Still newly wed, we sustained the loss of my husband’s sister in the shelter of that sturdy old house. We brought our babies home to that house and watched them each sit up, say their first words, and take their first franken-like steps in that space.

When we no longer fit in it, toys and trappings of young children crowding that space we decided to find bigger quarters. A creature who loves the safety and comforts of home, I struggled, and could barely say goodbye to it.

I find myself, all these years later, in the safety and comfort of the second space I longed to make my home.  Every days it is a blessing to look out the window and to give thanks for this space. The space that our children have now all left, but that belongs to us and that I hope is a welcome harbor to them and their families when they visit.

I’m grateful for the ability to write this. It has afforded me the opportunity to properly giving thanks for that old home. A family was created there. I became a mother there. Some of my happiest memories took place there. It is forever a part of my heart.