CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEAR'S

This holiday season doesn’t seem like a holiday season just yet. Christmas is just a little over a week away and I’m just not in the mood. I can’t be in Connecticut with my family. I can’t be with Mike and his family. Our relationship of nearly 8 years is, well, I can’t really say over, but it is just so very different. He says we can’t be a couple anymore. But he loves me. And I’m lonely. I miss him. But I have to prove myself to him and to myself. Maybe if I can do that…. I just don’t know. But instead of wallowing in the sadness of it all, I’m going to do something alone. I’m going on an adventure. Sure, it will just be one day in late December, but it will be my day. And then there will be celebrations later in the week with friends, and New Year’s. The turn of the year is always so nostalgic and bitter sweet. I always have such high hopes. I’ve never had that perfect night. I’ve had some close ones. But somehow they never live up to my dreams. It’s probably my own fault. I don’t plan anything. I don’t get the dress. I don’t get my hair done. I procrastinate and wait until it’s too late. But this year, like many before, I will go on my First Day Hike. I will go outside and welcome the New Year with a walk in the woods. And I’ll feel better for a little bit. I’m going to keep chin up, while looking
ahead, and keeping an eye out for things that I could trip on…eyes on the trail doesn’t mean to never look up. You are out here for a reason. Take it all in.

The Driver - page two

Susan sat quietly while she listened to this story. Working intake was always so hard; hearing the stories from these youngsters that were just trying to find their way in the world after so much heartache. This particular story hit home, she had the felt the same loneliness, shyness, self-doubt, and had been an unintentional runaway herself. She had found this mission when it seemed like there was no hope left. She had been afraid that she would end up under the control of the pimp that had been trying to recruit her or dead in some alleyway. Dylan’s Mission had been there and helped her figure out how to be a young adult. She hoped she could help this kid do the same.

The story she heard seemed to be missing some key details. Like where had this kid come from? She had no idea how many miles that old car had been driven, only that the driver wasn’t about to lose it. She didn’t know if there were any extended family she could contact, didn’t know if anyone might be searching for them, didn’t know where to begin. But begin, she must.

She found the driver a cot at one of the mission’s shelters, along with a job interview, and made a promise to move the car to the storage yard behind the main mission building. This driver might be staying here for a little bit but that car would be here when the time came for moving on.

The Driver

As I trudged through the snow back to the car, I thought about how things could have gone differently, if only I were a stronger person, if only I were more self-aware, if only I said the right things at the right time. I knew this wasn’t going to help me out of this situation. I knew it would only make me feel bad, but I also felt like I deserved to feel bad. After all, this failure was mine. Just like the last one. I was going back to the car and leaving, sad and alone, because I didn’t have the strength to tell you the truth. To tell you anything. I let the party goers enjoy themselves and make fun of me. I let them tease me about my lack of confidence. I let them ignore me when I tried to join in conversations. I let them make me feel unwelcome. I helped them to make me feel those things. I was shy and nervous and I didn’t fit in. I don’t know why I keep trying. I don’t why, on this winter’s night, I thought I could come to your party and talk to you and tell you how I felt about you. I had hoped a dream could come true, but they don’t, at least not for me.

And so I got in the car and I drove away. And I didn’t ever come back. Another missing person to put on the milk carton. But no one put my picture out there, did they? My foster parents reported me missing but they only did what they had to do. In a few months I’d be out of the “system” anyway. No one to miss me, no one to care, no one to be obligated for me.

I went to Landfield, Mississippi after that. I hadn’t planned on it. I just ran out of money. I hadn’t planned on driving away that night. I just got in the car and I drove as far as it took me. I didn’t have anything that I couldn’t leave behind, so I just went. I’d been pretty much living out of the car anyway. I wouldn’t be let in the house if it was after curfew and those stubborn fosters refused to understand that I couldn’t get home from my part time job at the bowling alley all the way across town before they wanted to lock down the house. So, I’d keep extra stuff in the car and sneak into the house after they left for work. I knew one day something like this would happen. Felt it in my bones and so the only things I cared about were with me in the car. The car, the only thing I had from my old life. It had been a present for my 16^th birthday, two days before the fire took my family. Two days before the worst years of my life began.

So, now here I am, at the edge of 18 and a runaway. Out of money in Mississippi with just a car that I can’t afford to fuel. There are choices to be made. Options that aren’t very appealing. I have to do something. I can’t stand the hunger. I’ve lost some weight in the last couple of weeks. My clothes are dirty and I’m starting to get those looks when I’m walking down the street. I don’t go far. I don’t want to lose the car too. I was lucky enough to find a warehouse to park it behind. The janitor there said he’d keep an eye out. He doesn’t make me feel that safe but he’s the only one that’s been nice to me. He offered me a joint the other night. I turned it down. I can only imagine what it might have been laced with. It’s thoughts like these that keep me safe, but they also hurt my heart. I don’t want to be hard and jaded. I want to be a normal kid. They say you grow up fast on the streets. I don’t know if I believe that. I feel younger and more vulnerable than ever. It’s only been a couple of months.

At least it’s not too cold here. It’s pretty damp, but it’s not too cold.

(all rights reserved -Sharlene)

dialogue

Some of the greatest lines I've ever written come from dreams. They are just lines that I remember, usually completely out of context. I don't always remember what was happening in the dream that brings up the thought or line of dialogue but I'll find myself repeating the line over and over again until I wake up enough to write it down. It happened to me the other night. I wish I could remember what the dream was about. I remember another dream that must have happened close after or just before, but the not the one the line comes from. By now you are wondering what the line was, huh?

"We were like a little gang, sharing antibiotics and lovers." (all rights reserved. Don't steal this!)

Deep, right? What or who could I have been dreaming about? But dang, what a line! Someday, I hope I can use it. One day I hope to write lines like that one while I'm awake. And many more of them. Stories need a lot more than one really great line.

And what kind of dialogue was this? Was it the omniscient narrator? Was it one of the characters describing himself and others to someone? I guess I'll find out if I ever getting around to using it in a story.

The dream that happened around the same time was one of those where you feel the moment in your body. I don't know what those are called. (excuse me one second while I go "google that") Lucid Dreams...that the term I was looking for to describe how this dream felt to me. I was in a vary narrow and long boat, similar to a kayak, but open like a canoe. I'd never seen this type of  boat before, but now that I'm thinking about, it might have been like one of the boats they use for crew. What are those called? Scull. Hold on a second! It was a single scull. That was the boat. Anyhow, I was on a lake, but it was super still, no waves at all. The water was very dark and it was night time. I started skimming around on the top of the lake and was going in every widening circles and increasing speed. I was heading outside of the light of a big flood lamp that was over the water and someone asked me where I was going and I told them that I didn't know but that I was just trying to go very fast. I could feel the sway and speed of the boat. Mind you, I have never in this lifetime been in a scull boat, let alone a single. I don't swim well, and I don't row crew! So, it was one of those weird dreams that either stem from some desire to try something or maybe it's a past life memory. In any event, it was a powerful dream. I woke up and my whole body was "pins and needles".

That was quite a night.

between the window and the screen

Year after year she returned

Making sure the rip in the screen was still there

Her doorway to her lair

She would repair and remodel

Spruce it up and then leave it

Spring came around and she would too

She would fuss about

Making the floor comfortable and the sides strong

Making sure it was secure

Between the window and the screen

Summer

The nest stayed empty

Fall

The nest stayed empty

Winter

We didn’t think about it all

Spring arrived again

And she was back

Pulling downy feathers from her breast

Bringing flowers and grass to cushion the eggs

And now, three little birds

And now we get to watch

And see our little friend

Her preparations paying off

To raise her children

In the nest between the window and the screen.

Articles of clothing,

One shoe there,

Another maybe there,

A purse,

A hat,

Empty glass,

Melting ice,

Still smoking cigar,

A fire smoldering in the hearth,

Another smoldering in her heart.

A sudden phone call and he was gone,

The tracks in the snow still warm,

The car miles down the road,

The man returning to his wife.

She was tricked by his words,

His promises,

His charm.

He was unfaithful to her,

And to his wife,

And he’d lied to both.

She felt foolish,

Young,

Betrayed,

Spoiled.

She would learn from this

And would be jaded in future affairs,

She would never have a first again,

And she had wasted it on him.

If only she could go back and

Return to innocence,

And happiness.

She had wanted to be grown up,

To have an adult relationship,

It had been so glamorous,

A cabin in the mountains,

A weekend to themselves,

But one call had ruined it all,

He had confessed his lies,

He hadn’t left his wife after all.

He wasn’t single,

He wasn’t available,

He wasn’t hers.

And so now,

This bitter and hurting young women,

Has learned what many already know,

The pain of being left.

(all rights reserved - SET)

I don't know what to do

I don’t know what to do.
I found you in an alley.
I was only taking a short cut,
You were behind the Chinese restaurant,
Hopefully not just eating from the trash.
I hoped that maybe they fed you.
You looked so sad and scared,
You wouldn’t make eye contact.
I looked around to see if you were really all alone.
I should have called someone for help,
But I didn’t know who to call.
And so I am left with thought and prayers,
And does that really help?
I should have taken you home.
Everyone deserves a home.
But do I have enough to spare?
I don’t know what to do.
There are so very many of you,
And only one that’s you.
I’ll go back and check on you.
I’ll see what I can do.

S. Thornton All Rights Reserved