Countdown...

This is the latest piece in the story of Alex and Kayla's which I began here and continues here, here and here.


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Three...two...one...


Three...two...one...


Okay.    Kayla sighed, as she moved her eyes around as she took in her darkness.

She was exhausted.  She was trying.

Kayla baby, hang on.  Hang on.  I love you. 


She could hear Alex's voice.  She had been hearing him for the longest time now.  So comforting yet filled with heartbreak.

He missed her.

Every time she heard his voice, an ache would run through her - deep and gut wrenching.   She missed him just as much.

She would then try to open her eyes but found herself trapped in this darkness.

Along with Alex's voice, she was now hearing other voices: Cameron, Alex's son.  The nurses - she could tell it was them in the way they spoke to Alex.  Marlon - Alex's manager.  Friends, even though there were moments she confused Tracey with Genevieve.  The boys - Seth and Zane - the two-thirds of the jazz trio she belonged to.  She remembered that fact just recently.  That she was a musician.  And a photographer.

Alex's voice made her remember that last fact.  With the sound of voices, came a memory or two, except for the nurses, of course, since she didn't know them at all.

 Kayla, honey, please wake up.  For me.  Sweet girl, please wake up. 


It was Alex again.  His deep tone edged with his New Zealand accent was filled with heartbreak again. It cracked.  He was crying.  Again.

Her heart clenched.

Oh Alex.  I'm trying.  I'm trying. 


She remembered how she would do almost anything for him, she loved him so much.  This was no exception.

Okay.  Another try.

Five...four...three...two...one.  


Kayla strained as she tried to force her eyes open.

Kayla...


Tears threatened behind her eyes.


Alex, I'm trying.  I'm trying.  Almost there.


Almost there. 




This piece is inspired by a prompt from Write on Edge which asks us write a piece of fiction or creative non-fiction about a countdown, starting with “Three, two, one.”

A Memory Captured

There are those moments that are frozen in time by digital.  I'm thankful to have a good number of those thanks to the kiddos I have.  One such moment is below.

You see, my baby, is growing up.  In these last weeks he's been maturing at what seems like light speed.  This toddler is soaking it all in and expressing it all out in his walking, his talking, his memory, his personality.  

Sweet boy is growing fast as he's discovering the world, in all his purity. 

One such moment is below.  Just in an instant, while my back was turned, he climbed in the chair and started typing on the computer.

Yeah, like it was the most natural thing in the world.  He moved that computer mouse around too.  So grown-up.  He was on his computer like his Mommy.   And loving it. 

Unbelievable. 

In my mind's eye, though, he will always be this. 

Just linking up with Galit at These Little Waves and Alison at Mama Wants This! for their Memories Captured link celebrating those memories we get and hold dear. Feel free to link up and then go visit the others who have shared their gorgeous memories.  I promise, you will swoon. 

All About The NaNo...

This month has been a busy one.  The husband was away for 8 days.  I had surgery a week after.  Thanksgiving came a week after that and from day 1 of November I have been participating in NaNoWriMo - National Novel Writing Month where you're expected to write 50,000 words in 30 days on an original novel project.

Writing straight through without stopping. 1667 words a day.

This is my third year participating.  I didn't finish but I came closer to the goal than I ever have at over 30,000 words.  

I am left with a sense of rejuvenation and a consistency in writing that I have not had in a looong time.

With a momentum  in my writing that I plan to keep up in the coming months.

Not to mention a good 150 pages of an original novel draft. Yippee...

So though I didn't get the win, it's been an amazing experience with amazing results.

I am left with some things more important than the win.

Truly unexpected, NaNo has meant more to me and my writing this year than the previous two years.

I almost didn't participate.  So glad I did.



So that's been my November.  





Congratulations to all my NaNo peeps who finished.  Kudos!


And to the rest of the participants, like me, who didn't finish, kudos to you too, for putting forth the effort.  We are closer to finishing that novel than we were at the start of the month.   Happy Dance! 




Did you participate in NaNoWriMo?  How was your experience this year?

Recovery and Reflection

I had that surgery - a laparoscopy and I am now recovering.  No driving or heavy lifting for a week and that especially includes the 25 pound toddler.  I should be fully healed in two.

I am sore.  I tire easily.  I have three incisions with three sets of stitches to heal from.  It reminds me of those days after I gave birth where all the steps I took where gingerly so there would be less pressure on the pelvic area and how much I dreaded going to the bathroom because it hurt.


The surgery went well and I didn't have to have the fallopian tube removed.  It was discovered that the mass I had was not on the tube at all but on my ovary.  So the mass has been sent away to pathology and she will call in a few days with the results -- hopefully it will be negative for cancer.  Praying and crossing all fingers.

I still have my fallopian tube.

I am still the woman I was before the surgery.

Amazing that a moment or situation can cause one to reflect like I did on my last post.

It was good for me.  I needed that self-reflection...that reminder of what really makes me who I am as a woman.  A reminder not to get caught up in the physical aspects that make me who I am.

Vulnerability feels prickly but it is good for this girl who plays down everything.

Thank you for your words of encouragement during that most vulnerable time for me last week, on this blog, on my Facebook page, via email.  So good for me.  So what I needed to help me through the emotion I felt.

Onto the next thing: Thanksgiving Dinner.   My oldest son's favorite holiday.  Luckily I just have to make the list, he and his Dad will make the rest. 

And the next round of reflections will be on what I am thankful for...

PYHO: Losing My Womanhood?

This Thursday, I am going in for surgery to possibly (strong possibility) to remove one of my fallopian tubes.  There is a sizeable mass either in or on the tube itself and the doctors want to remove it.  They don't think it's cancerous but they won't really know until they go in and see.

I'm a little scared.

A lot apprehensive.

I'm ready to back out.

This fallopian tube is a part of my reproductive cycle.  It's an organ that physically and specifically defines my womanhood, like my uterus.   To not have it anymore is a daunting prospect.  It's a part of me, after all.

The doctor is decisive as is my husband.  If the mass is in the tube, the tube has to go.   Goodness forbid if this mass causes my fallopian tube to rupture.   That would mean emergency surgery and we wouldn't want that.

No, I think.  We wouldn't but then taking my fallopian tube means it causes my chances of getting pregnant to take longer.   And what if you affect something else in that area?  Cause damage of some kind that limits my chances of getting pregnant again?

Not that the hubby and I are planning to have anymore children -- at least we're 98% sure of that.

But still,  what about the 2%? I think.   It's nice to have the choice.

Only one tube.

Will I be half a woman because part of what defines me physically as a woman will be gone?

I know the answer to that.  Physical body parts and organs aren't the only thing that make me the woman I am.   I know.

But still it's hard not to feel that I will be less the woman I am physically because part of my reproductive system will be gone.  That area will not be whole ever again.

So I'm sad.  Grieving a little...over the loss of part of my womanhood; over the possible loss of the opportunity to be able to bear children again; over the fact that my reproductive system will not be whole.  A huge piece will be missing from it.

I know I shouldn't feel sad.

I know I should just focus on the three beautiful boys I have, but I can't help think that this could be the end of my childbearing times.

I'm just saying.

I am grateful for my life - wish feverently that this mass is not malignant and that I go through the surgery with no complications.

As I work through being okay with only having a part of my reproductive cycle.

According to my husband, the "healthy" part.

He's 100% right.

I'll just need to have my moment to grieve.

I promise it won't be a long moment and I will come out of it grateful for the blessings I have.


Pouring my heart out at Shell's...

 

A Featured Post...

Today I have written a post featured in the magazine over at Studio30 Plus, an amazing community for writers and bloggers who are thirty years and older.  

Feel free to stop over and visit. Any comments you leave would definitely be appreciated as I'd love to read your thoughts.  It's about a topic that is close to my heart right now.

And for you writers and bloggers who are thirty - cough!, check out the site.  Join us.  It's an amazing community to be a part of.


Thanks much!  

ReBound

"Sorry.  We've...we've decided to get back together."

The words were in the back of my mind as I entered the local bar/dance club on 145th street between Amsterdam and Broadway in Harlem with my friend.  They were from the man I had fallen in love with and were spoken to me just a couple of days ago.   He went back to his girlfriend of eight years.

A dance club mix of Michael Jackson's Billie Jean emanated throughout the club.  As my friend and I walked towards the center of the room, the rhythm and beats pulsated from the walls.

It was dark and packed with gyrating bodies.  Within minutes, my girlfriend became entwined with her boyfriend.

I yearned to be wanted.  To have someone desire me.

He was dancing in the corner of the dance floor and looking at me.  Tall like my ex, yet fair-skinned with an easy grin on his face.  He started dancing his way over to me.

He held his hand out towards me.

I couldn't resist the invitation because the beats were flowing through me, urging me to move.  And because this tall, good-looking guy with the laid-back smile held his hand out to me.

He wanted me.

I took his hand and he led me not only to the dance floor, but later, in the weeks to come,  to his apartment, to his room and to his bed.

And that continued.

Me, feeling desired, sought-after, then empty because whenever we came together, it was about the same thing.

Yet, it didn't matter because this tall, handsome, charmer wanted me.   Though it was clear in his distant eyes and his rushed manner when we were done spending time together, that he really wanted something else.

So four weeks later, I sat on the floor of my room, holding the phone in my hand after dialing him for the fourth time in a row.  He had picked up then.

"Mel, we're done, baby.  This is not going to work,"  he said in his lazy drawl.

His words echoed through my head as I sat staring at the blue carpeted floor through hot, flowing tears.

Of course, it wasn't going to.

This relationship was doomed from the start.


This piece was inspired by a memoir prompt from Write on Edge which asks you to write about a relationship that you knew was doomed from the start.