Really, where are you when you are between “here” and “there” or between “now” and “then”?
Perhaps here?
Or maybe here?
The concept of in-between has been on my mind lately. It started after I did a word study of “twilight.”
I’ve been writing poetry and putting it together for a collection. In looking for a title, I liked the emotions TWILIGHT invoked, but didn’t think it matched the theme of my writing.
I, perhaps like you, thought twilight happened daily as the sun sets. Imagine my surprise when I learned twilight happens twice a day and is defined as the period when the sun is below the horizon by a range of degrees. It occurs before the sun rises, and after the sun sets. Twilight is the “in-between” time occurring twice a day.
So, where do you find yourself when you are between here and there? I like to think I’m in the twilight. The word suggests a mystique. What a fun way to think about life! And really, aren’t we perpetually somewhere between here and there?
Yes, TWILIGHT …the in-between hints at what this poetry is about. The book will be available soon. Keep watching for updates and ways you can help promote the book.
I wrote earlier about my creative “desert experience” and teased about sharing the flash fiction piece written from this phase. The counts are in and the “YES” votes win.
Do not be surprised, this piece may find a home in a future collection of short stories.
The Concert
Peter sauntered into the seating area of the concert arena. The patrons were milling around, greeting friends who were at the same event. Many people already seated were chatting with those near them, or enjoying pizza with wine or other drinks. Servers walked the aisles, taking drink orders. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, he nonchalantly glanced from left to right. It was still early and there were many open seats. He was sure whoever purchased his ticket for him was already there, watching him. An usher looked at his ticket and directed him to his seat. It was an excellent location, center stage, just a couple of rows back from the dining tables, three seats in from the aisle. Realizing he would have a good seat for the show, and he himself would be in a prime location for others to monitor, he unbuttoned his jacket and sat down. As directed, he had on a black suit, with a bright orange shirt. He’d left the top two buttons undone, trying to look a little more casual. Clearly, he was overdressed compared to many of the others at the concert event. As he once was told, his movements were stiff, almost robotic. Though he made efforts to appear to fit in, he could not relax. The glasses he wore, which were dark-rimmed and oversized, allowed him to observe others around him easily. He had never figured out how to loosen up when around others. This evening was no exception. His seat was next to an energetic black woman. She was already swaying to the piped in pre-concert music. Occasionally she would speak to him, and he nodded or gave her a brief reply. Couldn’t she tell he didn’t want to converse with her?
The opening act appeared on stage and the crowd went wild. It was during that excitement another couple took the two seats on his other side. The lady sat next to him, but it was obvious she was enthralled with her date.
He remained in his seat, erect and focusing on the stage. The opening act had the crowd’s attention. They weren’t something he would have paid to see. He sat there pondering how this evening came to be.
Why am I here?
Who am I supposed to meet?
How many people are watching me?
Is this a set-up?
His thoughts raced as he focused his attention on the performers. The opening act wrapped up their performance. As they vacated the stage, many rose from their seats to get something to eat, or just to stretch their legs. He stood, as did the couple seated next to him. It was obvious they didn’t intend to allow him to leave. They started talking to him.
Were they the people he was supposed to meet here? The gentlemen introduced himself as KP. The woman never provided a name. As KP talked, Peter responded mostly by nodding his head or providing short affirming responses. The woman, wearing a tight-fitting sleeveless denim vest, tight black jeans and a perky straw hat, kept staring at her partner. Her brown hair curled out from under her hat, framing her face nicely. It was easy to wonder if she knew the man at all, or if this was a new relationship. She would tip her head and adoringly stare into his face as he spoke. He too wore tight fitting black jeans and a casual denim shirt. His beard and hair sported a dignified salt and pepper look. Probably in his mid-40s, KP appeared more casual than Peter and more relaxed. But why wouldn’t he be more relaxed? He shouldn’t know the group was being observed.
The threesome talked during the switch-up between the opening act and the featured performance. KP did most of the talking. The woman just smiled and fawned on KP. Peter stoically stood and listened. As the main act was setting up on the stage, the three returned to their seats. Before sitting down, KP reached into his pocket, extracting a small envelope which he discretely slid into Peter’s hand. Peter nodded, seated himself, and stared straight ahead at the stage. He thought, oh what one will do for money! It sure makes the world go round. If they only knew. He wanted to turn around to determine if anyone had noticed the transaction, but then he didn’t know who he should look for. He knew there would be a sedan waiting out front after the performance to whisk him away.
Some ask, how is a story born? Where do you get your ideas? Read below to find a plausible answer to your questions.
The Desert
Stranded in a creative desert Words escape me Nothing to show on paper
Wisps of a scene dance through my mind, then disappear before the words land in my story.
This journey is unsettling Leaving me feeling ill at ease
Besides being dry and barren, deserts are often hot To escape the dullness of these empty days We went to a concert
The outdoor setting provided a great escape from the heat Venue was filled with people enjoying themselves An evening breeze blew in from the ocean A lovely time was had
A threesome unlocked a creative muse within me The characters were all – characters I was certain there was a story beneath the surface
Back home, after a lovely evening of music by the shore, a short story was born
Now, your part…
If you have a desire to read the flash fiction piece born of this evening, click the yes option. If not, click no. In a couple of weeks, I’ll tally the responses. Depending upon what I find, you may get the story. You will be updated.
Please select and press one of the options below.
(Disclaimer notice for you, my readers. I appreciate your patience as I worked through the details of the form. Thank you.)
This season finds us preoccupied with houses, selling one, acquiring another. What do these different house styles say about us?
We joined our lives together, each owning a ranch style home.
Together we sold those homes, then combined our assets to purchase the lake house. From the street it was a beautiful ranch home that morphed once you entered into a three-story home that overlooked the lake and embraced the glory of sunsets all year long. It was the house where we thought our children would come to make memories. Not so much. Instead, we made lots of memories ourselves there. It was the house with the impeccably manicured yard and beautiful plantings. We enjoyed the changes of the seasons, the wild wind off the lake, the opportunity to sail whenever we wanted, and even the sound of our winter guests who set up shacks on the lake for ice fishing.
Lake House
From there we moved to the Colorado house, described as an old-style mountain home. We gave up the yard and the effort it took to maintain for more natural and rugged living. This house towered above the ground with the front prow encased in glass. Once you entered the home, you felt as though you could soar into the heavens. Your gaze always drawn into the sky. The air at this elevation was dryer and the skies clearer. All the seasons here seemed to arrive earlier than we expected, but each was a welcome change. Wildlife lived in proximity and sometimes challenged our abilities to cultivate anything green. The wind here surprised me and often prevented us for utilizing our outdoor spaces. It often caused me to ponder the ruggedness of life for the early settlers and wonder how they endured. But even more, I found myself surprised and mesmerized by how close and plentiful the stars appeared; I thought I could reach out and grab one… It was here that we would lie on the deck and watch shooting stars (a first for me).
Mountain House — Window to the Heavens
Now we are relocating, even further west; something I never imagined. This time we move to a Mediterranean style home, in a rural location with different vegetation from anything I’ve known. Our trips these last eight years to California have introduced me to some of these plants so they don’t appear as foreign as they used to, but I know nothing of their care. Something new to learn. The daytime climate outdoors may be warmer, but the house design should keep us comfortable. The more temperate climate and house design should provide the opportunity to utilize outdoor living more—something we’ve both wanted. A dedicated art room instead of repurposing a room will be a fresh experience and the location where you may often find me. Many of the critters I’ve become accustomed to in Colorado will also live there, plus a few new ones. Our new home will allow an opportunity to absorb the new landscapes and vistas, which will thrill me. Enough space to entertain, yet enough private spaces for us to enjoy living in our comfort zone. Who knows what adventures await us there?
Name to be determined…
Change and change and change. Each house so different from the one before and each filled with pleasant thoughts. I expect the fresh change to continue to offer adventures, hope and another place for us to share our love.
Reflecting on the first half of 2020 brings many thoughts to mind. It’s a year that has affected everyone.
Civilizations around the world all touched by Covid-19 have dealt differently with it, each in their own way. Even in other cultures, individuals have responded diversely to the impact. Recognize that I will only address the affects to me, and in no way mean that to minimize or marginalize anyone else’s experience. Personally, Covid-19 allowed me to slow down; no really, forced me to slow down. I considered myself to be a grateful person, yet this slower pace allowed me to recognize even more things to be grateful for. Regular Zoom meetings allowed me to stay connected with writing friends from Ireland, and the local writing group, now on-line connects more frequently. I’ve been able to establish some new patterns or routines in my life, resulting in more consistency in writing. A new children’s story awaits art work; a compilation of short stories (some new and some former writings) is coming together; there’s noticeable progress on the sequel to “Dream Glasses.” With this slower pace, I find after an initial writing, it’s easier to go back and review it with a more critical eye and make corrections. I recognize I’m more calm. Life feels less hectic, and more relaxing.
The question that plagues me is, what of these new patterns will I bring to my future when life returns to some semblance of normalcy?
Have you found aspects of these last few months you want to carry forward? Are you willing to share them?
I recently read an article from the Washington Post about millennials who nix their parents’ treasures. I can see aspects of this story from both sides.
Several years ago, my husband and I performed a major downsizing effort to move west. It was an interesting experience. We have a large gaggle of adult children. Of things we wanted to find new homes for, some of the kids took a few things. We were surprised at several large family pieces we had no takers for. We sold those pieces of furniture, as they were not going to fit in our new life. It was a bittersweet revelation to us. Sad the heritage of the pieces won’t be maintained. Proud our kids could make those decisions and not take the pieces they didn’t want or couldn’t use just because they thought it would please us.
For us, or at least me, the downsizing project proved to be unbelievably liberating. We kept things with the most meaning to us, and things that would fit in our new home. It’s been good for me to travel lighter and have fewer things. Others who have gone through a similar process also talk about the freedom, which comes from shedding stuff. Perhaps the younger generation has it right. Hold onto things lightly and embrace life.
Yet I wonder if they may someday recognize the loss of some of the things they’ve passed on. We do genealogy research, so we have many photos, scrapbooks and family historical information. I have framed my great-grandfather’s original citizenship paperwork. There is only one original. I hope it will have value to someone in the family, as it is part of our roots as Americans. But I don’t know.
I’m sensory. I enjoy visual pleasures from art and photography; the fragrances of food cooking, flowers blooming or even autumn in the morning air stir me to life; the sounds of wind blowing through the tree leaves adds another dimension to the meaning of autumn for me; holding a book and actually turning the pages is part of the story coming to life; enjoying an old piece of furniture or dishes I remember seeing my grandmother use takes me back in time to her kitchen. Can one savor all those emotions without some of the things from those times?
For clarification – I do believe embracing life and all it has to offer is of far higher value than clamoring after ‘things’.
I look forward to some fun discussion. I don’t think there are any ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ answers, just different perspectives on this topic. Now for the questions:
1. As the parents, we aren’t ready to part with all those things yet, so how do we discern which things those kids might want later?
2. If you don’t want things, what method do you use to save memories for later enjoyment?
3. Are things of historical value important to you? Why? or why not?
Journey to the Heights 