every lament is a love song
by Stace on October 31st, 2011
filed under pretty things
i woke from a dream last night
i dreamed that you were by my side
reminding me i still had life in me…
i’ll carry on… – Switchfoot, “Yesterdays”
A decade ago, I was a completely different person than I am today. I was homeless in San Diego, far from home and scared, and a master at pushing people away. Suffice it to say that I wasn’t surrounded by a close circle of friends. Sure, I had a few, thank God. One of the girls I’d grown up with, Allison, had recently been diagnosed with brain cancer, just before turning 23. I remember the day I called the hospital trying to reach her mom or husband: Ally picked up. Though we’d both grown up and moved away, we’d always stayed in touch. And while we’d spent many a childhood hour in church, we’d bonded over rejected principles as teenagers, and again over shared discovery of who God actually was. Not knowing if I’d ever have the chance again, I savored every moment of that phone conversation. Ally was happy. She wanted more than anything to have a baby, but ultimately was in love with her husband and at peace with God, her illness, and whatever was to come of it all. We prayed together, said our “I love you”s and essentially our I-hope-this-isn’t-goodbyes, and left nothing unsaid. We had been there for each other for a great many things over our fifteen year friendship. It turned out to be the last time I ever heard her voice.
Ten years ago today, Ally died. Somehow, though I always knew it could happen, I must’ve been expecting a miracle. That someone I loved so much and had known for so long could just be gone completely blindsided me. Living in San Diego in a community of other believers helped, but it took the better part of the first year just to stop reaching for the phone to call her. Even at her memorial service, Ally’s mom & I lamented that the strangest part was that she’d want to go home and call her to tell her how much it meant that her friends had come from all over. I guess if you’ve not lost someone you love, this may sound strange. I knew exactly what she meant. I’ve long since stopped trying to reach out, but I’ll never forget that odd feeling.
I’m always cautious about my actions and my surroundings on this anniversary. I take the day off from work, school, everything. Sometimes people don’t understand this, and they want to give me that whole “look on the bright side!” rubbish. The truth is, I do. I do look on the bright side – three hundred and sixty-four days a year. In fact, on Ally’s birthday, every year without fail, I call all of my friends and make a special effort to tell them I love them. I never want to take the chance of losing anyone without them knowing how I feel. I also make a point to treat her birthday as a celebration of life. Because that’s true, I feel it’s appropriate, respectful, and completely warranted that I give myself the anniversary of her death to be sad. Truth be told, getting in touch with emotions like those isn’t easy for me. While I don’t think there’s anything wrong with tears, they don’t normally come easily to me, so this is the one day of the year I purposely seek them out. I give myself one whole day to miss my friend, and then I move on and enjoy Halloween, knowing it’s exactly what Ally would want.
Months after Ally’s passing, when my roommate and I had finally found a place to live, (and jobs!) we went to the movies. Admittedly, that pretty boy Shane West was in A Walk to Remember was reason enough for me. I knew nothing about the premise of the film, and wasn’t a big fan of romantic movies in general, but went anyway. Something someone said as we were headed for the theater tipped me off that it might involve a death, but I didn’t give it much of a second thought. When it turned out to be a story about a teenager with leukemia (who eventually dies), it was all I could do just to keep from sobbing out loud in the theater. As people were filing out when it was over, I just waited as the credits rolled, praying I’d be able to somehow pull myself together and just get home. I own the DVD now and if ever I watch it, it’s only on October 30th, because I know it will only ever remind me of my sweet friend and that very specific time in my life.
Over the years, I’ve come across my share of songs that make me remember Ally. Today I planned to share my very favorite of these songs (the one from which this post gets its title and lyrics) as a video on my Facebook page, but discovered to my dismay that all that existed were cheesy photo slideshows made by fans and live performances with less-than-stellar audio. Rather than giving up, I decided to make one of my own. I didn’t know how, but it didn’t take long to figure it out. I’ll end my post with my creation, and hope that someone will enjoy it as I do. And now on with another year: Happy Halloween!
i remember you like yesterday, yesterday
i still can’t believe you’re gone
i remember you like yesterday, yesterday
and until i’m with you, i’ll carry on…
ain’t that a shame?
by Stace on October 8th, 2011
filed under ticket to write
i never ask for more than i deserve
you know it’s the truth
you seem to think you’re god’s gift to this earth
i’m tellin’ you, no way
-Janet Jackson, “What Have You Done for Me Lately?”
You make me sick. Seriously, how dare you treat people the way you do? What makes you think it’s alright to speak to other human beings as you do? You must be pretty proud of yourself; you’ve done so well. And yet there you are, daily, talking down to people like they’re pieces of trash. And not just any people. No, specifically it’s those around you who are there for you day in & day out, breaking their backs just to help you succeed.
I asked you a simple question. I wasn’t questioning your judgment, or doubting you. I was sincerely trying to help – the same kind of thing for which most in your place would actually have thanked me. But you couldn’t do that. You had to shout at me and belittle me in front of other people instead. I hope it felt good. Really, I hope you were able to let off a little of that steam. It seems that that’s necessary, and at least I’m strong enough (for the most part) to take it. Still, it wasn’t enough for you to be condescending and publicly embarrass me. You had to actually continue to come after me; you didn’t get enough of what you were looking for in the first go round? It wasn’t enough until you were shouting so loud that you were literally screaming? Apparently that’s the case, so I hope it had the desired effect: I hope it made you feel like a big, strong, important man.
What you don’t seem to get is that every time you see me, I’m literally there to help. I hear you use that tone regularly with others and I inwardly cringe, but I say nothing because I’m just thankful it isn’t me. Here I was thinking that I had somehow earned your respect, and in the end I somehow manage to be the unlucky soul who incites a tyrannical outburst of epic proportions instead. And now I sit here thinking I no longer care if you respect me or not. What bothers me is that the remorse you allegedly feel for this morning’s explosion will wane without consequence, and ultimately it will matter not to you that what it cost you was my respect. I’ll never look at you the same way, and I’ll never forget how I felt watching your mouth contort and clench with rage. It may be of small concern to you, but I’ll never admire you again. I’m gonna ask this one more time, and then I’m gonna take a big deep breath and get on with my life. How fucking dare you talk to another human being the way you did today? You, sir, disgust me.
I really do hope it was worth it.
what have you done for me lately?
i’ll stick with you, baby, for a thousand years
by Stace on January 9th, 2011
filed under let me entertain you
in walked luck and you looked in time… never look back, walk tall, act fine… come get up, my baby… i’ll stick with you, baby, for a thousand years… nothing’s gonna touch you in these golden years… – David Bowie, “Golden Years”
It was early 1987. I’d never seen anything so glorious in all my life. He had long, spiky blond hair, some really beautiful makeup, a codpiece, and…that voice. I didn’t care that they were calling him the goblin king, or that I was supposed to consider him the villain. I always thought Sarah was a fool for not staying with Jareth in his world, baby or no baby. But I digress… From the first time I saw him, I loved him.
Over the past (nearly) 25 years, not much has changed in this area. Like a friend you’ve known for a great many years, at times I drift away from the magic that is David Bowie, only to find him again when I realize it’s been too long and enjoy getting to know him all over again. This past summer, something shifted…I realized I wasn’t giving him nearly enough credit for the influence he’s had over so many moments and memories in my life.
Back in August, my friend Jen & I took a road trip to Portland. Both of us having recently graduated from Cal, we were touring the city looking for a place to rent together. As it turned out, it wasn’t meant to be, but it didn’t matter – we spent the entirety of our brief getaway talking about life, guys, the city, and music. We had a blast. While Jen was showing me around the city (her hometown), she told me of a chain called McMenamins. What they’re known for doing is renovating cool old spaces (hotels, bars, movie theatres, music venues – a school, in one instance) into hip, offbeat hangouts. One such place was in a neighborhood (Hawthorne) that turned out to be my favorite in the city. We discovered (much to our shared delight) that the Bagdad Theatre, a McMenamin’s venue (that serves beer and food!) was playing Labyrinth. Jen being as huge a fan as I, we were stoked. Because I was so young when the movie first came out, I’d never been able to see it before on the big screen – much less beer in hand! All I can say after having had this opportunity is that if you’re a DB fan and you ever have the chance to do this, DO IT. It was such a treat; I’d absolutely jump at the chance to do it again.
Jen had been struggling over a guy (or two) and after that night at the movies, every time she started to stress in conversation in the car, one of us would turn on Bowie and immediately she’d chill out, happy for the distraction. (Hence the post titled “who needs shampoo when you have david bowie?” in my travel blog – he makes it pretty easy to wash something right out of your hair!) Since then, I’ve stopped to really think about how many times over the course of my life I’ve associated a Bowie tune with a turning point or at least a memory. There aren’t many artists like this in my life. Billy Joel is another (hence the “she’s write on time,” a play on a Billy song’s title). More frequent are those I fall for briefly, only to burn out when their sophomore album disappoints or they fade from the scene entirely. Sometimes, though, it’s not them – it’s me. Whatever the case, rare is the artist with whom you can grow over many years, loving every single thing they release for you. When you love music as much as I do, and so easily catalog emotional experiences with the lyrics (or just a melody), it becomes easier to understand why a musician I’ve spent any length of time listening to means so much to me – much less one of whom I’ve been a fan for nearly my whole life.
I recently received a belated graduation gift from a couple of girlfriends who live out of town and weren’t able to make it to celebrate with me. Knowing how much I love to read, they sent me a gift card to Borders – it didn’t take me long to put that to good use. Because I tend to prefer fact to (mediocre) fiction, and also of course because I had yet to discover/read a decent one, I immediately sought a Bowie biography. Just this week I’ve started it, and already I’m learning things I had no idea about. For instance, did you know he’s shy? This always floors me about a celeb, but DB in particular I can’t quite wrap my head around! That said, though, I’ve been trying to piece together who he actually is as a person for a while, and I have to admit I’m a bit surprised at what I found: as I keep telling a friend (and fellow Bowie lover) of mine, he’s just so…normal! And please, don’t ask me, “what’s normal?” The point is, we think of him as such a legend, such a rock star, such an icon…and it seems to me that he still thinks of himself as just Davey Jones. He’s just a regular guy, and quite charming. (A little YouTube evidence, in case you need to see it for yourself.) The more I find out about him, the more I like him. Not to put too fine a point on it, but how often do we find this to be the case? (Not only with musicians/celebrities – with anyone?)
For all these reasons and more, I dedicate a blog post to my favorite musician of all time. Today is winding into tomorrow as I type this, and I really did him proud. Today was DB’s 64th birthday, and the first thing I did this morning was dedicate this to him, with my answer an emphatic yes!:
I must say, the man makes 64 look amazing. But then again…he is a rock star unlike no other.
My next small homage was to wear as much glitter on my face as I could get away with at my job, (and my age!) as well as fabulous and almost over-the-top accessories. At work, I managed to (easily) convince the rest of the crew that we needed to listen to our Bowie playlist, and my day was complete. My last small contribution…well, you’re reading it. I admit it, though, I even considered a bottle of bubbles in his honor, but forgot to grab them on my way out of Target at break-neck speed (I don’t like to linger there on weekends when it’s crowded). To be fair, though, I don’t usually find that I need much reason to pop a cork on bubbles…days that end in ‘y’ usually will do – that’s just how I roll. Anyway, my plan was to add a little ginger liqueur and some clove syrup and call it a Ziggy Stardust – a little strange, a little spicy, and hopefully a lot delicious. I’ll let you know how it turns out (if it’s any good).
In closing, I’d like to thank the late John & Peggy Jones for procreating. Thanks to DRJ and the alter egos (Ziggy Stardust, the Thin White Duke, Thomas Jerome Newton, and especially Jareth) for making such amazing music, movies, pop culture, and everything in between. Oh, and… can you please at least tour once more before you officially retire? I’d love to see you live just once…not to mention a shot at meeting you. Thanks, and happy birthday!
Love,
Stacy
(And a quick shout out to Elvis’s would-be birthday, while I’m at it.) 
don’t let me hear you say life’s taking you nowhere, angel… come get up, my baby… run for the shadows, run for the shadows, run for the shadows in these golden years…
and we’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet
by Stace on January 3rd, 2011
filed under ticket to write
for auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne… we’ll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne… – “Auld Lang Syne” (minimalist English translation)
Few things in life are as exciting to me as new beginnings. Unlike most people, though, I find new beginnings in strange things. Not just the obvious like birthdays, weddings, and New Year’s Day, but even the difficult moments like breakups, divorce, and death. Remember that Semisonic song, “Closing Time?” The line that best explains how I feel about the yin and yang of life (at least when it comes to the exciting new opportunities we can find in tragedy, if we only seek them through our devastation) is “every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” It has such a nicer ring to it than the worn out cliche, “everything happens for a reason.” While most of us believe that’s true, I for one would be just fine if I never heard, read, or saw those words anywhere ever again.
Anyway, back to new beginnings…I don’t consider myself a wholly superstitious individual, but one exception is that magic that is the stroke of midnight ushering in a new year. For as long as I can remember, I’ve taken that moment seriously, believing that I should be doing that which I would like to be doing in the year to come. There have been years where I meant that quite literally, but the older (and hopefully wiser) I get, the more I mean it to be more of a frame of mind than a literal act (or, God forbid, geographic location)! I used to think I needed to be out “living it up” with friends, drinking, surrounded by noise and chaos. Turns out, I don’t enjoy chaos, especially for chaos’ sake. I also don’t enjoy “rowdy” much anymore, but as I mentioned…I’m growing up. 
For example, the past few years I can still recall: as we ushered in 2009, my sister and a dear friend of ours had just driven from SoCal to my place; I answered the door, sparkling wine in hand just as the countdown began. (Layla and her boyfriend were already there. That’s my kind of warm fuzzy beginning!) Last year, I was with Emma in San Francisco laughing our asses off at the standup hilarity that is Greg Behrendt (et al), followed again by a champagne toast – another fantastic night with a beloved friend. This year, I spent the majority of my evening with my brother, his girlfriend, and our dad at the “old man”‘s place watching a basketball game we’d taped earlier in the afternoon. It was low-key, but I enjoy low-key more & more these days. We made dinner, enjoyed some good conversation, opened (of course!) a bottle of bubbles, and then I decided to bail just before midnight to enjoy a little solitude.
Okay, so I wasn’t actually home alone, but my thinking was that I’d like to start 2011 off in my own space. So what if there are other people in the house? I wasn’t crowded, which was my aim. I was comfortable and happy – and not a bad state of mind to be in for the new year, right? My point is just that these days I’ve learned that I like to either surround myself with those I love, or if that’s not possible, spend that moment suspended between the old and the new happily alone.
I also find new years to be interesting in how they “inspire” us, albeit often only temporarily. I usually resolve not to resolve, but instead to aim higher than I aimed before. I’m learning to try to grow gracefully, not to beat myself up for any lack of follow-through I may have had in the past, and to just keep going. This year, I’m feeling sort of ambitious, and I have a pretty specific plan. I don’t know how it’ll work out, but I do know me by now – which is to say that I know that more often than not, I find a way to make things happen if I really set my sights on them. My goals (so far) only stretch into the first half(-ish) of the year, but that’s good – one thing at a time! Having spent the last month or two conceptualizing a novel, I’m just about to finally put “pen to paper” (so to speak, as this time I won’t bother writing the entire piece by hand). My first goal is to have at least 80% of the first draft done by the time I leave in mid-May for Miami (from where I’ll be cruising to the Bahamas). Upon my return, I plan to finish the manuscript & make whatever edits I feel are necessary for it to be ready for agent eyes. As luck would have it, my boss’s stepsister is a literary agent, and he’s graciously offered to introduce us, so there’s a great chance she’ll read my novel for me when it’s ready. At that point, I’d like to be wrapping up loose ends and figuring out instead how to make them meet from a “new” location. (“New” because I expect, unless life has other plans, that this location will be one with which I’m not only quite familiar, but have called home in the past.) If all goes well, I’d like to be settling back into my other bay area by midsummer. *fingers crossed* 2010 was pretty good to me overall, but I’d like to see if I can’t just top myself this year – I feel good things coming!
I love this moment in a new year where you still feel like everything is fresh and we can make such glorious changes, no matter what lofty goals we set for ourselves. But then again…I’m two full days into the year and already I’ve been practicing yoga, made marshmallows from scratch, torn through the first third of a new book, spent long hours on the phone with a friend I enjoy talking to, excused myself from a job that stands in the way of my personal goals, spent some time with my mom, and had a mani-pedi. Not bad, not bad. Oh, and finally checked in with my blog! (Though I’ll admit…this isn’t at all the blog topic I thought I was logging in to write…I suppose that’ll be next time.)
Enough about me – what about everyone else? What are your goals, or dare I use this word, resolutions? Any insight going into 2011 you’d like to pass on? Hope your year is off to a marvelous start and as always, I’d love to hear from you! Happy New Year!
and there’s a hand my trusty friend, and give us a hand o’ thine… and we’ll take a right good-will draught, for auld lang syne…
the closer you get to the fire the more you get burned
by Stace on December 7th, 2010
filed under pretty things
some love is just a lie of the mind… it’s make believe until it’s only a matter of time… and some might have learned to adjust… but then it never was a matter of trust… – Billy Joel, “A Matter of Trust”
I think it’s high time I posted another piece of the story, what do you say? (If you haven’t yet read it, be sure to read the first two installments beforehand: start at the beginning!)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When last we left the happy couple, they had just spent their first weekend together. It didn’t take long for them to begin planning the next weekend, but certain logistics required coordinating, given the fact that he was still on parole. Sad that she couldn’t spend the holidays with her new(ly reunited) love, she instead took comfort in her family, traveling home for Christmas. What she hadn’t known was that he had conspired behind her back with her mother. She came home from dinner with her father and his family to find him waiting for her – with permission to be in San Diego with her through the new year.
Days flew by in the way they tend to do when romance is new and exciting. They weathered a ten-hour drive from Northern California back to her condo without so much as a hiccup. She believed with a childlike faith that he was the one for her. She found his idiosyncrasies cute. There were things about him that might have otherwise annoyed her, but she pushed them quickly from her mind, telling herself she needed to be in an adult relationship, to accept him as a whole person. She reminded herself that differences between them gave them plenty to talk about, to learn from each other. From him she learned that he considered himself a healthy eater: having been raised in the same mostly-vegetarian religion as she, he still avoided meat. He insisted that a 9″ cheese sandwich on white bread with extra mayo was healthier than her 6″ turkey on whole wheat with no mayo – because it didn’t have meat, of course. She rolled her eyes and smiled. She knew she was right, and she knew she shouldn’t press a stupid point – he loved her. Wasn’t that all that mattered?
In the days that passed, he hit it off with her neighbors and they joked that they should run off to Las Vegas and get hitched over New Year’s. But when 6pm on New Year’s Eve rolled around, there they sat in the living room of the neighbors’ condo instead. She looked at him over her glass of sparkling wine, torn between the spontaneous romantic notion and her better judgment’s reminder that, though she had known him as a little girl, she had only known him as an adult for a matter of months. The next day, they hit the road – Clark County, NV or bust.
She had always wanted to get married on the new year. Never one to admit out loud that she had any romantic tendencies, the truth was that she found something glamorous and beautiful about any anniversary that could coincide with fireworks, champagne, and staying up all night. Further to the point, New Year’s Eve had always been her favorite day of the year – what better day to get married? Unfortunately for her, the date of their nuptials would be immortalized as 1/2 – not 1/1. She shrugged it off and concentrating on the fact that she had a husband – about which she had told no one. They decided quickly that they would keep the fact to themselves, knowing how rash of a decision the rest of the world might find it to be. They would go back to San Diego, he’d go home to Seattle, and they’d plan their moves strategically. They could spend the first stressful married year in secret, and when the time was right, they’d plan a wedding for their anniversary. Only then would they tell their families the real story.
Having won enough money on the slots to pay for the room, the services (at the infamous drive-thru chapel, of course), and gas home, it was time to turn around and go back: she had to work the following day. On the way home, they agreed to confess the truth to their mothers only and took turns phoning to let them in on the truth. As he spoke to his mother, she realized there had been no proposal. She had no story to tell. There had been no engagement ring, no professing his love, no down on one knee with sweaty palms. Hadn’t she always secretly wanted all of that? Hadn’t she secretly been planning details of her wedding her whole life? Had a friendly joke simply turned into reality? Who am I? She thought. Britney Spears?! I wish I would’ve thought it through and planned it a little better, at least. Then again, she knew he loved her.
It wasn’t long before he was gone again, but they managed to make arrangements with the necessary authorities for him to return for an entire month. She had time to reflect on this man in her life. She began to remember to call him her “husband.” She didn’t feel married. She was, however, proud of herself for all that she’d been through and come out on the other side of. She was an adult. She had a man who loved her, who knew intimate secrets about her past. He accepted her for who she really was. He knew details about her that she hadn’t told anyone else; she knew he was close to his family, particularly his younger brother, but she swore him to secrecy on certain things. They weren’t the kind of details to be shared outside of a relationship, she insisted. She believed she could trust him, but that didn’t make it easy. He acted hurt that she even had to ask him to keep things quiet, as though he’d never dream of betraying her confidence. She apologized and explained that she had learned the hard way to play it safe when it came to secrets.
When he got back to San Diego, what should have been the beginning of the “honeymoon” became instead a rapidly deteriorating relationship. He took his time finding work, and she had no intention of supporting both of them. She didn’t want to be a housewife, but she certainly didn’t intend to wear the pants, either. He finally got a part-time job at a car wash; she spent 40 hours at week trying to make ends meet. They quickly discovered that they didn’t have many hobbies in common, and she resented that he was like an overgrown child. He wasn’t a mama’s boy, for which she thanked her stars, but he wasn’t self-sufficient, either. One night, during a fight, he admitted to having told his brother the details she’d made him promise he’d keep to himself. In her heart, she knew it was the beginning of the end. He had promised her she could trust him, and then knowingly betrayed her trust. He had shared specifics she had deliberately asked him to keep to himself. She wasn’t sure they could recover from such a blatant blow. She felt disrespected, and more angry than hurt. She had fallen for him, and he had let her down. She should have known better. He had made a fool of her. Barely more than two weeks married and she found herself wishing that what happened in Vegas really had stayed in Vegas.
After an exceptionally rocky month, he was due back in Seattle. She had pulled away, picked fights, and found every reason under the sun to be irritated with him. She knew he was torn between believing he cared about her and hating the way she treated him. She didn’t know why it was so difficult – weren’t they supposed to be together? Shouldn’t it be easier? She just wanted him to back off, to go away, for things to be fun and easy like they had at the very beginning. Instead, they went from bad to worse. Once home, he went to his family in search of sympathy, explaining the details of their relationship to his mother and step-father. She believed these things to be between the two of them, and he had already blatantly broken a promise to her. She wished she could explain to him that once her trust had been broken, she may have been incapable of extending it again. Often when she would try to call him, he wouldn’t answer his phone. She knew that a long-distance relationship couldn’t be sustainable for long, especially without regular communication. To defend himself to his family, he let them in on the very same confidences she had asked him to keep to himself. His family blamed her for all that had gone wrong between them, and instead of supporting her or insisting that they were in it together, he jumped on the bandwagon and rode off into the sunset.
After less than four months of marriage, she was ready to get out. Everyone she knew asked, “you can get an annulment, right?” Wrong. As it turned out, annulments had a 50/50 chance of being granted in court. A judge has to agree that fraud has taken place in order to deem a marriage as null and having never taken place. While celebrities can afford to gamble, she could not. Having recently granted him an all-expenses paid month-long vacation to her fair city, she opted to cut her (financial) losses and just file for divorce. She told him of her plan and he insisted he wouldn’t sign. “This isn’t the 50s,” she said in a condescending tone. “You don’t have to give the little woman permission to divorce you anymore. It’s happening.”
And so it did. Not long after, she discovered that he had been sleeping with the 19-year-old girl that he’d allegedly broken it off with to be with her. Not only that, but he had gotten her pregnant. She was keeping the baby, and wanted him to be a part of its life. Thank God, she thought. If ever I wanted a sign, this is it. I’m not meant to be with him. It never should have happened. Somehow, she felt more relieved than anything. She didn’t feel particularly embarrassed to have lived the story, even though she would have thought her friends utterly foolish for similar actions. In truth, she was happy to have taken the chance, no matter what the outcome, and knew that in the future she would look both ways before crossing such a street. Her friends asked her if she still wanted to get married “for real” someday. Her answer? “Of course. I don’t think this even counts as having been married. I want a marriage, an adult relationship. With someone who loves me, respects me, and knows how to communicate. Someone I can trust. None of that applied. Someday I’ll do it for real.”
Without feeling the need to tuck her tail between her legs and retreat anywhere, she simply dusted her hands off and walked away without looking back. Eventually, it became both a true and outrageous tale from her past and a joke to friends headed to Vegas: “don’t gamble in the chapel!” After a while, though, she realized what valuable lessons she really had taken from it all. There were things she’d say to him, if she could, but feared that he would view her reaching out to him as an opening of the door between them, rather than sealing it shut in a gesture of closure…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That’s all I have for you this time! The next installment will be my conclusion. Let me know what you think! Did it turn out like you thought? Whether it did or not, did you enjoy it?
i’m sure you’re aware, love, we’ve both had our share of believing too long… when the whole situation was wrong…
