The plan for that winter’s Mexico trip was to drive to Sayulita on the West Coast with our beater travel trailer for a month to visit and say our goodbyes to the friends we’d made, sans Tom and Sheila. We’d then head to the East Coast the quickest route to pick Isabelle up from the Cancun airport on New Year’s Day. This meant that we had to leave the West Coast the morning before Christmas, which was a good time to travel, because, after a night’s stop in Central Mexico at Patzcuaro, a lovely little lakeside city that had an…
“Hello America, how are you! Here we are, we are your native sons!”
Just a version of Arlo Guthrie’s song, though of New Orleans, it can’t be wrong.
Our next adventure is to the Northwest, and we will try our very best
To make this run and have some fun with many sights to see.
We had to smile at this thing we see, which was a canoe and a bike on a new RV. The speed limit signs were now in miles, and with drive-thru fast food, my hubby was all smiles. …
We sing the Blues as we leave the warmth, the sea, and the tropical hues,
But we’ll be back in the Fall to enjoy our house that has few walls, and
we’ll see our friends we leave behind, start Happy Hours to relieve the grind
of what to do, where to go, to dine in, or out or see a show.
Whatever we plan you can be sure that what we do will be pure
of joy and sun that will abound along with birds of which will sound
like music to my ears.
But now we drive through familiar…
The plan for that winter’s Mexico trip was for Mac and me to go to our usual west coast campground with our “beater” travel trailer for a month to visit and then say goodbye to the friends we’d made, before heading to the east coast to pick up my daughter Isabelle, also a diver, from the Cancun airport on New Year’s Day. …
Steve came up to the couple just finishing a waltz and asked Emily if she would care to dance with him.
Is he kidding? I never thought he’d ask, she thought, but only said, “I’d love to.” Then she turned to Jack to introduce the two men. She wanted to say that this was the man she wanted to take to bed, but she refrained from mentioning that bit of personal desire. She just said, “Jack, this is the man Larry said he’d caught me ‘flirting’ with. Steve Thomas.”
Steve laughed, as Jack extended his hand. …
I leaned over to Marty and whispered,” I need a nap, I think I’ll mosey on down to the homestead and do just that.”
“I’ll come with you,” he said, and then turned to Wes to let him know we were heading out and asked for the bill.
I got up and felt a might wobbly from the beer I had drunk. I turned to look back at the table to see how much of the brew I had consumed. …
The Old Mayan Woman — a story of Magic Realism in Chiapas, Mexico
I saw her less than a minute after lamenting, “Why didn’t I buy a shawl when we were at the market last night? I’m freezing!”
My husband and friends just looked at me, since they knew it was a rhetorical question, because, why didn’t I buy one after each of them had wisely purchased something warm for the cooler mountainous climate? It was cold at this location in the winter, especially early in the morning.
We were in San Cristóbal, Chiapas, Mexico, on a bit of a…
One day, I had to leave school early, as I had started my period, and not only was the flow heavy but so were my cramps.
I was in a lot of pain. I asked my teacher if she would let the studio know that I couldn’t go clean or be there for my training classes today, and I went home.
When I walked into the house, I heard my mother screaming. I ran into the bedroom and saw a half-naked goon using both fists on mother’s face. …
Agony. That was my name, not a condition in which I suffered. At least toward the end.
When I decided I needed to change my name. Because I was tired of not only feeling bad but being the brunt of nasty people’s jokes. And having my mother’s boyfriends’ needs for making my name meaningful.
It, the name, was my mother’s idea from either transferring her own misery onto me, or — wishful thinking on my part — wanting it to have a reverse effect. I could never quite understand her reasoning, and she maintains she didn’t remember. …
Who is Emily and how does her past haunt her? Learn more in part two of chapter one from my paranormal, suspense, romance novel.
A heavy breath of air slid from her mouth. Swallowing hard, a flash from her childhood crowded uninvited into her mental visuals.
A young Emily sat in a tall wooden chair wanting to disappear through the slats as she pressed her slender back against them. Her grandmother’s sallow face was just inches from her own, a saggy mask of bulging eyes and stretched out mouth full of yellowed teeth. …