Saturday, September 1, 2012

Fateful Girlfriend Meetings

One day three girlfriends left work for a nice lunch at a charming little restaurant. They were full of news. One brought pictures of a recent family wedding. Another, who had gone through a painful divorce, brought pictures of her daughter's graduation and talked of how she and her ex-husband had bought their daughter a car and were spending lots of happy times together as a family. The third had the best news of all. She was leaving her job and her family home with her two children to have a beautiful wedding and move to a brand new house they were building in New Orleans. There was a bit of happy competition in that lunch. A few short weeks later, the first friend lost her son in a tragic death. The second friend discovered her ex had met someone new and was to be remarried. I've always wondered how things turned out for the third friend.

Many years ago, two friends met at the local Dairy Queen. One friend had left college to go to beauty school. She was engaged to a boy in Viet Nam but had fallen madly in love with her neighbor in a guilty summer romance while he was home from college. The other friend was madly in love, too, and was vowing to marry the boy she loved in spite of her parents' disapproval. Those friends met again online after more than 40 years and the thing they both remembered and wondered about was that last meeting at the Dairy Queen.

Three childhood friends got together a year or so ago and compared notes. One was a single mom with two little children and was about to be married to her new love, one was about to have her first baby but was not getting married. The third was in love, too, and living in her adopted country of Chile. She returned to Chile just in time for a terrible earthquake but her worried friends were finally able to find out she was OK through Facebook. Time will determine the fate of the other two friends.

It is fun to get together with friends and talk of your plans, but remember these fateful meetings. Life has a way of surprising us.

The Bed by the Window

Did you ever hear of the story "The Bed by the Window"? My friend mentioned it years ago in reference to a sermon she heard. It intrigued me so much that I searched for it. Finally, I found the story on the internet, but it was much darker than I expected. Recently, I found out why. Apparently this story was considered a cliche before I was even born. The original short story by Allan Seager was published under the title, "The Street" in Vanity Fair magazine in 1934. In 1946, the plot turned up in a book called, "101 Plots Used and Abused."

In the story, two wounded veterans occupy adjoining cots in a hospital. Both are bed-ridden but one man has a view of the window. He recounts stories to the other man about the wonderful happenings outside. Eventually, the first man dies and the second man begs for the bed by the window. When he is finally transferred there, he looks out to see only a blank brick wall. In the darker version, the second man actually kills or fails to get help for the first man so that he can get the coveted bed. Ironically, he kills his own source of joy. There are so many versions of this story that it is now considered an urban legend.

This also makes me think of a Twilight Zone episode. At least I think it was Twilight Zone but I have been unable to find it. A soldier is killed in battle and his buddy comes to his home to meet and talk to his family. Apparently this soldier told everyone of a wonderful childhood and described all the people he knew. When his buddy gets there he finds mean, angry people and a slum in the city where the two street signs on the corner make up the name of the soldier's imaginary home town.

What are we doing when we blog but sharing our own unique visions? In our own heads, the stories we tell ourselves may be all that is left when time and fate change our outside views. Society highly values and rewards those who can look at the blank wall and tell us wonderful stories. Meanwhile, I enjoy hearing your stories and sharing my own with you.


Here is my entry for Magpie Tales #30. Follow the link to see the other entries.
I can never sleep late at the beach. A small crack of light peeks through the blinds. Everyone else is sleeping. I quietly slip out of bed and grab my new magazine and an apple. Outside, I find a deck chair and watch the gray water heaving forward on the white sand and retreating again. It sounds as if the world is breathing. Seagulls soar above calling raucously. Soon I will start the coffee. We'll take a walk along the beach and go out for breakfast. The long weekend stretches ahead. The sky begins to turn pink. . .
It is a warm Indian Summer afternoon. The sun is shining through the shifting leaves of red and yellow. I can hear the creek trickling over the rocks. I sit on the wooden steps of the front porch. The sun is warm but the breeze is chilly. A pot of spicy gumbo simmers on the stove inside. I feel hungry thinking about it. I put down my magazine and grab a fresh-picked apple from the basket. I stroll down the path toward the river where the children are wading along the shore. I can hear them laughing. . .
It is my first morning in a beautiful stone villa overlooking the sea. It is dark and cool inside. I open the shutters to the brilliant sun and bright blue sky. Sailboats bob in the sparkling water below. I go out to the little wrought iron table on my private balcony with an apple and an American magazine thinking of the adventure that awaits me. . .
I'm jolted out of my thoughts as the phone rings at my elbow. The gray walls of my cubicle close around me. I sigh and toss the apple core and the empty sandwich bag into the trash can. Lunch break is over.

perfect moment

I spent many years working in a cubicle, being somewhere I didn't really want to be for 8 hours a day. Even though I was blessed to have several great jobs over my lifetime and found satisfaction in my work and made lifelong friends, like many other people I always craved the luxury of time, solitude and nature all around me.

I was inspired to write a description of my perfect moment by "Wishcraft", a book written by Barbara Sher. Check out where you can actually read the book online. I think it is Chapter 3, "Wishing" where I read other people's descriptions of their perfect day. I enjoyed writing what turned out to be more like my perfect moment. I looked at it every day and always found it soothing and inspiring. I also hung pictures from the "Out on the Porch" calendar all around my windowless cubicle and found them very comforting as well.

I had to recreate the perfect moment from memory since I have not been able to find the box where it is stored since our last move. Doesn't matter. I remember it well and have visited it many times in my imagination with friends and family members who might be far away or even gone forever.

I looked for stock photos of mountain cabins, but I could find nothing that matched my imagination so well as my friend's actual cabin in Kentucky. It seems she is living my fantasy even though when we met she was the Big City Career Girl and I was the one who wanted to live in the woods. Life is full of surprises. My friend's blog is listed here on my blog. She is a crafter of beautiful handmade soap and skin products at I imagine she will be surprised if she visits my blog and sees pictures of her own house.

Perfect Moment

I am on the wooden deck of a mountain cabin. Sun light is filtering through the leaves above. It is warm and still and the sound of chirping insects fills the air. There are two deck chairs, some potted plants and a small table on the deck. A cat is sleeping in one of the chairs. Inside the cabin is dim and cool and a pot of stew is simmering on the stove. A small creek trickles below and runs into a cool, clear river further down. I hear laughter from that direction. I will be joining the others soon, but right now I am working on my laptop computer. A deadline and a pay check are waiting, but the work is going well and I am almost finished.

In the distance, I see someone walking toward me. As she gets close, I am surprised to see my old friend. "Don't worry," she says, "others will come." She comments on my tan skin and slender figure. Laughing and talking quietly, we inspect the garden and stroll down the path toward the river.

Sweet Spot

After bouncing around like a frantic roulette ball for most of my life, I have landed. Life has become a cycle of small pleasures. I wonder about the meaning. Why these people? Why this place? It doesn't really matter. This is it. I don't feel the need to get somewhere. I am here. Now I want to maixmize on what is here: organize a corner, learn a new skill, find a way to volunteer. As for whatever is in store for me, I am not afraid. I do want to be healthy as long as possible so I can be around in 10 years - 20? to see how my grandchildren have grown up. Small pleasures, small ambitions perhaps, but my joy and gratitude are large.