typerwriter keys

Coming back and finding work that is half way done. Work that I once thought as acceptable, perhaps even good. Work that you took your time to read. Work that I actually shared here! Yikes! Well, I am a little embarrassed. As I read and reread stuff that I thought was good enough, good enough to share. Now, I see it just wasn’t. Too many of the same words, too many times I  said the same name on one page, too many times I said words like, had or actually or finally, over and over again! And I see so many mistakes. And yet, I know I have something. Something that made some of you follow me all the way through, so saying it is not worth my effort to continue is not being very grateful to the many of you that took the time to read this story. Besides, I know that I have a story to tell.

In the course of the first page to right now, I have lived through so many emotions since. I have ridden the proverbial wave and I truly think that my story has evolved. And that I am stronger now. That in my head my story and the reason that I want to tell it has changed. And if I’d tried to finish it back when I thought that I’d written the last page, it never would have had a chance. But now, I really do think that at least in my head and the bones of what lie here, I just might have a story worth telling.

writers trash can

The bones are still there. But now it is more than a story of a young girl, trying to save a young boy and his demons. It is more than a story about first loves and abuse, about mental illness. It is about a woman and her scars that reappear when her own daughter starts dating  and about mid-life crisis and trying to go back and right the wrongs and almost losing everything she holds dear. It is about the young girl, running head on into the older woman she is now.  Past her prime and even  middle age, just now finding her voice. After all of these years she seeks the validation that she lost all those years ago. Just now being allowed to say the things she’d always wanted to say.

Today, we find ourselves inside a world of communication that once was non existent. Where once when we lost touch, a lost love was truly lost except by chance. A lost phone number, a changed address and pouf they were lost. Now through social media, in a click of a key and people are finding each other. It’s crazy. And sometimes if by chance, there was no closure, or the ending was bad, people are trying to right old wrongs, and  personal Pandora’s Boxes have been being opened.

At first my story was about the abuse, how subtly young girls allow it. How difficult it is to admit to someone for so many reasons  that you are in a place that is hard to share. It is the story of many young girls, and I feel it is still worth telling. But I think that I needed this time to go back over the pages, over the bones, and revise just a little. To also tell the end of the story. So I am back to tell it.

To those who have hung in here, to my writing mentors who have lovingly supported me, to my readers who have followed me here. You guys are the best! I’m still here, my story is still being written. Now let the revisions begin!

typed to be continued


The One That Got Away

sad break up

It all seems like a dream now,

you finding me, all these years later,

trying to pull back the years from yesterday.

I let you in, I closed my eyes and jumped.

All the years in-between vanished.

It was just you and me in that moment,

skin against skin, hearts beating, raging, stopping.

breathing, tasting, rushing.

Breathless memories crashing, youth returning.

Falling in love with each other or just the past?

Never really truly knowing.

And the struggle between the reality and the fantasy,

well it never let us hang on tight enough.

You slipped away just as quickly as you appeared,

beyond all of my values and morals and what people might say.

I allowed you in.


Maybe because I still loved you.

Maybe because I hated you so much for hurting me

that I wanted you to know what you lost,

What you could have had,

What you didn’t fight for all those years ago,

And maybe it was a little of both

Maybe it is just nice to know now  that there is someone out there…

someone wanting me,

that believes that I was the one that got away.