I was reading today a beautiful piece of writing sent to me in Brad Listi’s latest newsletter. If you haven’t yet acquainted yourself with The Nervous Breakdown, it’s a crying shame.
It reminded me of my first true love. A man with a red corvette, curly brown hair and a heart of pure gold. We lived a long-distance relationship throughout our college years. Many trips from either of our college towns down the nine-hour drive to a large southern city populated with either Limos or Toyota Corollas and, for a few weeks a year, one red corvette and two people in love.
During our summer breaks, I spent many a day or evening at his college-town apartment; until 11 pm or 3 am-if we fell asleep in each others arms. He was the quiet shield from the beatings at home of one parent or the crass treatment by a step-mother that only wanted me gone;. She got her wish; mine were not granted. Truth is slayed by hatred so often.
He has a family now and that door has been shut to me long ago Though, for a minute, I allow myself to wonder what our life would have been like to entwine into each others limbs as the evening turned into night and we grew closer through the years. What would our baby we lost to miscarriage have looked like? His chin, my ears, his feet, my hands. The minute has ended and I must deal with the truth of today and count my blessings. My friends, my faith, the strength I have to fight each minute of pain. Nothing would stop me from working before, nothing will stop me from working through this dying disease today.
The minute has passed and I must deal with today. I count my blessings and move through the pain. Happy that it is in my bones but not my heart. That pain would be too much to bear.Those questions I also look at askance. Lot’s wife taught us not to look backward No matter how much it hurts to move forward in this body, at least it is moving ahead.
Regrets? Yes, many. But I only acknowledge them peeping at me from the corner of my eyes. There is no point at looking them straight on. I must gather my strength and keep my faith for the current fight; alone, with this disease and its unending pain.
Count your blessings and be happy for what you have. Be happy in your heart for who you have become and, whatever war you face today; keep strong and carry on.
The Point of the Quill 
Reblogged this on Simple Stories and commented:
Yes, keep calm, as all is well!
Pingback: Keep Calm, Carry On and Don’t Look Back, for Long | Simple Stories
Lee, this is beautiful and poignant. Thank you for having the courage to share such a personal piece. And the skill to do it with such grace.
You are so kind to say that, Kimberley. Thank you. I have decided to revive this blog with it being the flip-side of the more publishing/novel/creative writing site. I also miss this community and thus am coming back for the camaraderie and insightful sharing. I appreciate very much your stopping by; I apologize for the late response as I’ve been busy with a certain link-party and a certain-someone will be receiving my vote ;).
This is a sad but beautiful piece. I love how the story is told as real as it is, straight from the heart. Blessings are worth counting, especially when the moments you wish were relived can only be done so in the book of memories. At least there every page counts for something. May your blessings relieve you, peace soothe you, joy comfort you, and love motivate you to create more and better memories that will inspire and enrich others. Thank you once again for sharing your heart.
I think…this is the most touching and beautiful comment I have received. You understand so keenly and clearly the message and extend it further with your good graces and wishes. I send you peace and happiness.
LJT… That’s a pretty-sad piece. It makes me realize the truth of some long ago opinion that sadness is rich, happiness shallow. I find great richness in your story and mainly in the point of view from which you tell it. It’s inspiring just listening, and so I long for more of your voice.
That is very kind of you, P.J. and thank you. I used the passive voice for certain passages as that is all one can do sometimes in this life; allow yourself to be carried on through the days of tumult until you can stand on both feet again. I continue to turn away from the wishes that weren’t granted; thus the repetition.
He contacted me about a year or so ago. He was thinking of me, he said. Some beautiful words were passed back and forth; memories relived but never to be revived. Those moment you hold close to your heart like a water bottle in the dessert and you continue to walk on.
And here are the peeping regrets again. They heard their siren call.
Thanks for stopping by P.J. It means a lot to me.
Writing from the liminal zone,
Lee
You are so very kind. You, dear, are one of the blessings I count…;)
This is a beautiful slice of your life, Lee, that I thank you for sharing. The emotions you express create a catch in my throat and send my mind spinning deep into my own experiences of love, loss and the constantly changing journey. You write like a dream, my friend, about hard, cold reality. Your gentle, caring spirit shines, Lee, despite the isolating hardship of a relentless illness. Your are a brave, beautiful warrior princess. I am lucky to know you. Love, Amy