Welcome Sixers and friends as the year, like all good stories, hurries to a conclusion. I say what’s the rush? Take your time; savor each moment while we’re here. Last week our young woman on the beach was stumbled upon by, what else, a handsome young man. She’s concerned once he discovers her not-so-svelte body, he’ll run screaming away. The plot thickens. At this point, he’s concerned she might be injured under the thick cover of wet sand.
“I’m Tony Flannigan, physical therapist at the clinic in town and I work free-lance.”
Expert hands examined my neck, shoulders and fingers reached through curly blond hair to press my scalp. Peering through my dark wrap-around sun glasses, Tony smiled the whitest smile on the East coast and said, “Are your ribs okay?”
Panic set in because Tony wouldn’t be able to find my ribs with all the donuts stuck to them. A lesson from childhood to clean your plate because good food sticks to your ribs. I sat up, slipped the big beach wrap over my head and shoulders and said I was fine.
Today we have a beach, a young woman napping, almost buried under a blanket of packed sand with the tide coming in. Welcome Sixers to another adventure in this short story of romance with, of course, complications. Just like real life.
Pain and all the air whooshed out of me as something fell across my body.
A man’s voice deep, concerned spoke in a rush, “I was running and tripped over. . .well I didn’t realize someone was under the sand and oh God, I hope you’re all right.”
“Oh,” I moaned and tried to get up but the sand held me down and so did he. I opened my eyes and through the sunglasses saw Antonio Banderas, not really the actor but he sure looked like him. I almost said, “Kiss me before the tide washes away the sand and you’ll run screaming from my fatness,” but I didn’t. I just laid there like a lox on a plate, continued to moan and that’s the moment I fell in love with him: one of the moments.
Welcome Sixers and friends. Today we honor our Veterans. Men and women who, when they enlist, promise to give their lives to our country if necessary. God bless them.
This week I introduce a short story, Love The Way I Am. Read on.
“She’s sleepin’,”I heard the smallest boy say as little fingers lifted my sunglasses and dropped them back on my sun burned nose. Almost sleeping, I thought, eyes closed so easy to doze in the hot sun, heavy wet sand covering most of my ample body. This band of munchkins wore themselves out carrying little red, blue, and striped plastic pails of sand. When a high pitched voice interrupted my reveries to ask if they could cover my toes, I’d said sure. Little did I know they’d get carried away and create a hill at this end of St. Augustine Beach and little did I know they would abandon me for cookies and juice as the tide began to roll back in. You too can be replaced by a cookie; should be posted at the beach and given along with every birth certificate.
Welcome Sixers and friends. My love and best thoughts to those who suffered in the aftermath of the storm. After an horrendous scary week, I’m bringing to a close my snippets of Starting Over. Next week brings a new story. Emily begins to rebuild her life after her tragic loss. Emily’s close friend Mark, a widower, returns from a trip to find that Emily defended herself against the man who killed Patrick.
“Hold me tight, please, I feel as if I’m coming apart at the seams,” Mark said. “As I drove here from the airport, all I thought about was you, how much I care for you, how this time there was a chance for us to have a life together, to grow old together. From a distance I saw flashing lights, knew something terrible —” hoarse sobs, “when I saw you standing, soaked but standing on the beach I almost lost it. Relief sure, but that thing at your feet, he attempted to kill — my precious Emily.” He cradled her face in his hands.
Emily turned off the lights, slammed the door and grabbed Mark’s hand, a welcoming smile on her face, “Now what were you saying about a place for me to stay?”