Tuesday night my stepmother told me my dad had gone from months to days left. I was going through all the scenarios... how to get to them, what to do with my fledgling business whether to bring Esme on this trip when i might not be best and would be the driver on dangerous roads... etc And we had a plan to come by morning... but I also had this dream.
There was an old man I did not know, bald, wrinkled, quiet, smiling. He was sitting in a roofed canopy at the top of a mountain, and like a child I sat beside him to his right sort of draped over his shoulder. I was trying to look at something in his hands. He was holding little rolled and crumpled pieces of bright royal blue tissue... like kleenex someone got wet and then rolled the wet clumps up in their hands. The bits were lying naturally in the creases of his hands, lying gently on his lap, palm up. He says to me: " I wonder what will happen." And naturally, I begin to wonder what would happen, too.
The thoughts formed and washed away one after the other. Would they turn red? Would I add red with my fingers as if by magic and they would turn purple? Would they unfold or would he drop them to the wind or would the wind come all by itself and blow them away?
I want to look at his face to see if he will say more, or if his eyes will say it if his mouth doesn't. But I do not look. I can't stop looking at them for fear something will happen. And I am equally scared that by expecting something impossible.. a miracle.. I have missed what he was asking - what he was trying to teach as a lesson.
I ask my heart what I honestly wanted the little tissue paper crumbles to do and it responds it wanted them to unfold into great ribbons of silk starting small and travelling forever down the mountain before us like rivers to the ocean.. shimmering and beautiful. And since I knew that was too much to ask I almost didn't let myself even dream it. But at that same point I learned the lesson that I want to know more... more inside, more than can happen.. I want the Universe to speak to my heart and I must be open to listen and try...because otherwise I will always be wondering what could happen.. what will happen.. and what would have happened if I was brave instead of afraid.
At 1:48 on october 10 my dad passed away. I was here after driving Esme on that same long road highway i didnt think we could have driven last year. We're doing our best to hang together and i am trying to do all the best things to make this terrible time easier for my stepmom he would of wanted help for her. She has had so much support which is good and i know there will be a continued outpouring after esme and i go back to tennessee.
Sunday, October 06, 2019
Kindle format .99 cents
I've worked on this book for about five years. It also has my own original illustrations. It is a love story, a rescue, and a revelation. The genre is magical realism or urban fantasy.
Although it begins as dark surrealism, it revolves around hope and perseverance.
'Bran exists but only in apathy. Isobel doesn't exist, but wants to. Paul, trapped between the worlds, is prisoner to the watch. Ingrid, a tiger with her claws the wrong way in, blames herself for surviving her brother's death. To save them all, Bran must learn to fly,"
I have several other stories in the works, they are young adult novels about heroines. This is much more literary, dealing with some dark but important topics. It was the first book, and it wanted to get out the most.