Blogging – Page 69 – Linda Nelson

A Bit of Flash Fiction



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Jogging down the path hardly traveled, I expected an attacker to jump out of the bushes at any minute. I could have brought the dog with me, but then I would have to stop every fifteen feet for him to pee on a tree. A can of mace would have to do.
The attacker never showed their face. Instead, it was a dirty old envelope that stopped me in my tracks. I could have continued on, ignoring it as trash. Instead, I picked it up and noted the address and date it had been mailed. It had a piece of folded paper inside. My curiosity got the better of me and began to read, tears welled in my eyes by the end of the love letter that was dated December 1932.
A photo had been within the fold of the paper of a man in an army uniform. I had seen that face before, I’m sure of it, even though he was much younger then. He was a man I knew that lived in a retirement community not too far away. The woman, I wasn’t so sure about. I wondered what the chances were that she could still be alive today.
I followed up with a search on the internet. One of those paid searches led me right to her. Fate would have it, she lived in the same community, and chances were that they probably didn’t know that either still existed. The only way to find out would be to deliver that letter to the woman the next day.
She hugged me like a rag doll and blessed my little ole heart. I wasn’t sure if the tears I was feeling on my face were from the joy I saw in her eyes, or of her squeezing of my ribs in that bear hug of hers. She thought he had died in the war.
“No, No… he didn’t die,” said I. “He lives on the fourth floor.”
“Joe, on the fourth floor?” she asked. “That can’t be. I saw him yesterday and he told me his name was Howard.”
“His name is not Howard.” I laughed. “I’m sure he was asking you how are’ d you? He’s always had a lisp since I’ve known him.”
“A lisp?” she asked.
“He told me he’s had trouble with his tongue ever since the war. He had been in a prison camp before the war ended.”
She agreed to go with me to visit him. He opened the door with a blank look on his face. I had neglected to tell her that Alzheimer’s had begun to take his memories away from him. He could no longer remember his wife’s name nor his daughter’s.
“Joe, I brought an old friend of yours to visit.”
He smiled and invited us in. Pictures of family decorated his walls, but he no longer knew the names that went with the faces. He still remembered his days in the army. That was probably a memory that would never be taken away from him. The bad ones always are the last to go.
While he shuffled about his little kitchenette making cups of tea, my guest began to study the photos on the wall. She stopped beside the one of him that was taken when he entered the army just before going off to war and drew out the photo she had in her pocket and held it up to compare the two. They were the same.
I don’t know if it was the dress she wore or her hair. Something sparked inside him. “Margaret? Is that you?” The teacup began to shake in his hand.
“Daddy, do you remember her?”
He rushed toward her and pulled her into his arms, as though he were just a young lad once again. I was a forgotten memory. It was the first time I had seen him happy in years. The reunion, eighty-three years overdue.

I know, it’s been weeks since I last posted. A few weeks ago, I was so excited to be going to the New England Conference for RWA. You’re probably wondering how it all went.
It was a great weekend. There were lots of fantastic workshops, which I started off with GMC Your Writing Career. This workshop focused on looking at your writing career the same way one would write Goal, Motivation, and Conflict for characters. The difference is you – your writing career – are the character. It was an interesting topic, and something to think about.
Then I took self-care and Ergonomics. This workshop was full of exercises and stretches for those who sit at the keyboard for many hours. It also featured proper posture for sitting. Many of these exercises, I will be using in the coming weeks, after hysterectomy surgery, my future topic.
You see, during the entire weekend, I had a dilemma. I thought I was suffering from Kidney Stones or something similar. I was dealing with this as best as I could while maintaining my composure, and blowing up like a balloon. I just didn’t know how bad I had it.
So, I continued on with my weekend and learned about Expanding Your Audience On Non-Amazon Retailers. This was pretty impressive.
Should you ever see, any of these workshops offered, take the opportunity. They were all superb.
Sprinting: It’s Not Just for Runners! By Tracey Lyons was fun and witty. She is a must meet person. I did manage to work out three scenes while in her workshop in under five minutes. Thanks, Tracey.
Our dinner was with Sabrina Jeffries, whom I met and spoke with during the book signing. It was a pleasure to meet her. I had to have a book signed by her for a co-worker of mine who is from Thailand. I did my homework before going to NEC by reading the author website blurbs. If I hadn’t, I would never have known that Sabrina had grown up in Thailand.
By Saturday, I was petering out. My stone problem was slowly getting worse and the pain was increasing and by the time the book signing was over, I was pretty much done for.
Sunday and Monday, my agony was growing. Tuesday, I was due back to work. By 6am, I was ready to see a doctor. My DH agreed and took me to the ER.
Apparently, it wasn’t a kidney stone after all. A uterus fibroid was blocking off my urine flow. I was in so much agony, which was relieved when a catheter was put in place.
Now I wait. My surgery is a must. But my OB/GYN cracks me up. She had me have an MRI so they would be able to see what was going on before scheduling the surgery. Doc said, “You got to see these photos, they’re awesome!”
I’m like ugh. How can you be so excited about pictures of my insides?
She went on to show us and talk about all the details, being excited about the whole process. I said to her in response, joking, “Only on Grey’s Anatomy.”
She smirked and calmed down. It was still funny.
So now I await my upcoming surgery. It’s scheduled for this Friday morning. I don’t know how long it will be until I will be comfortable to sit and post after the surgery. Only time will tell.