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Posts Tagged ‘Unfading’

This is the first post in a series, about a woman named Amara. It started as an idea for a short story, and it grew as I grew to love this fictional character. There are 20 parts on my site (linked at the bottom of each segment). This summer I have been re-posting from my first year of blogging, so as to avail my writing time to working on the completion of this story, hopefully in book form. I’d love to know what you think.
CW

As Amara sat behind the steering wheel of her car she got increasingly frustrated.

She looked around her empty front passenger seat for clues as to why she might have driven to this professional building, in the middle of her small town. She could not remember why she drove there, all that she could remember was steering her Oldsmobile into this parking lot. It was as if in turning her wheels towards the lot, her purpose for being there had disappeared completely from her memory.

She tried to look around, hoping to see if something around her might twig her memory as to why she had driven there. Nothing sparked her memory.

Maybe if she retraced her steps, but all she could remember was the moment her front tires turned into this parking lot. ‘Oh, what is happening to me? I cannot even remember any other part of my day, and here it is already eleven in the morning!’ The last thing that Amara could remember was climbing into her bed the night before.

That memory was vivid. The striped bedsheets had felt cool on her skin, as she had climbed into her side of the bed. Her side of the bed … after almost ten years of living without him, she still had her own side of the bed. She started every night there, and she would awaken in the morning, never having passed the invisible center line of the mattress. Once, having given herself a talking to, she purposefully lay in the very middle of the bed … and awoke the next morning where she always awoke, on her side of the bed.

As she pondered thoughts of him Amara’s anxious heart ached for his presence, for his companionship, for his wisdom and laughter in frustrating circumstances like this one. He had a way of seeing a lighter side to the tough stuff of life, and he had a way of lightening any anxiety that she was feeling.

But, he was not here with her, and Amara sat feeling more and more frightened. She wanted to let the tears that were filling her eyes fall down her cheeks, but that would be ludicrous for a woman of seventy-two crying like a baby where anyone could see her.

There must be a sensible reason for this odd bout of forgetfulness …

Unfading – Part 2

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Today I am featuring a guest post, who is not a guest.

The guest today is not the author, because the author is myself. Instead the guest is the main character in a fictional story that I have written.

About a year ago I began writing a fictional story that I thought would be a weekly feature for a few short weeks … really just a short story. What happened instead was the beginning of a relationship with this fictional woman, named Amara, for my readers, and for myself.

The story of Amara, her past and present, grew and has gone from a short story to the fictional novel that I am writing still.

Back around the New Year I mentioned in my post, Goals for 2013 – Things to Accomplish, that one of my goals was to complete the book that I had started writing. Since then I have had so many people ask me about the book, that I decided to feature it here, so that you could take a look. You will find a link from each segment to the next. There are twenty segments available in this story, so make that warm drink, put your feet up, and get to know Amara, Joy and their family.

Unfading

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This is another post in a series, about a woman named Amara. Every Friday I will post another segment in this story.

“Are you sure she is able to come here on her own? You could meet with the doctor alone today, and bring your mother here for a second appointment?” Dr. Faw’s receptionist said with sincere concern, but laced with the urgency of a vulture. My mother’s delay was impeding the efficiency of this woman’s day. And was that sarcasm I heard when she specifically said “coming here on her own?” Was she insinuating that I should have brought her myself? Well, if only she knew the efforts I had made to try to convince my stubborn, highly independent mother that she should let me pick her up!

“No, I will wait just a couple more moments for her,” I replied to ‘vulture lady’ while smiling my sugary sweetest. She faked an accepting nod and smile to me.

Oh, what was keeping mother? Did she remember? Did she forget where she was to go? Did she misplace her car keys again? Did she go wandering on the trails again, and forget her way home? How can so many possible reasons for mother’s delay go through my head so quickly?

Today was just bound to not go as planned. Joe forgot to set the alarm, and the entire household started the day on the wrong foot by starting late. The kids were late to school, which seemed to be disastrous for both of them. Jilly was irate that we forgot to set our alarm, causing her to have less preparation time to beautify her sixteen year old self. And even five year old Jessica was upset that she did not have time to brush all of her teeth ten times, and refused to say goodbye to me when I dropped her off at school.

On my part, I was frustrated with Joe too. He knew how important today and this appointment were to me. He knew how stressed and uncertain I was feeling about what was going on with my mother and what might be the reason for the strange behaviors my mother had been exhibiting. He knew this was important, and he forgot to set the alarm.

Sigh.

That seems to be happening often … sighing. It is as though there is so much air in my lungs, from holding my breath, that it constantly needs to be forcefully emptied with a full, loud expression of sighing. It seems that I sigh so that my body feels it, and my ears hear it to remind my body that I am still alive. I wonder if I ran away to a tropical island would I still be sighing?

I reached into my purse to check the time on my cell phone, but where is it? Oh no, I left it in the car! Maybe mother had called me with an explanation of why she was not here. Maybe her car wouldn’t start, or she fell, or her alarm didn’t get set (no, that would not have delayed her. My mother has been awakening earlier all the time for the past few years. She even phoned me last week at three in the morning to tell me about her neighbor’s falling the night before. She had awakened, gotten dressed, and had breakfast without noticing the time on any of the clocks in her house. No, an alarm clock was definitely not the reason she was not here).

I stood and approached the Vulture lady, “I just realized my cell phone is in my car, I will go get it to see if mother has phoned me.”

“Alright then,” Vulture lady said sharply, “but I can only hold your appointment time for another fifteen minutes.”

I sighed, “very well then.”

Unfading – Part 1

Unfading – Part 3

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