Guest Post- Jenny Shaw

This is a story about a girl who loves a lost boy, very, very, very much. She knew he was guest-postinglost but loved him anyway. He never returned her affections until one night right before his 28th birthday.

She knew it would never last. And it didn’t. But, these are the words that will remained burned into her heart for the rest of her life.

-Jenny

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On a Wednesday night, the last week in May

 you started saying those words.

 I thought it was absurd, surely I misheard…

 You asked me to come back to you after I had gone away…

 So, come back I did, to reassure your soul.

 As you fell asleep, I went to go.

 Told you that I loved you so…then…you started talking too.

It started with “I love you Jenny”

followed by “Goodnight”

I didn’t believe my ears, I couldn’t have heard right.


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 Two days passed, and then,

 I found myself once again

alone with you in your room

 where you were trapped in your spiral of doom

 trying just to keep yourself afloat…


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 “Don’t leave me”, you pleaded

 my bleeding heart went out to you

I held you in my arms as you cried

“I’m so sorry, Jenny. So very sorry…”

For what, I didn’t know…


“I broke your heart so long ago…”

 That simply wasn’t true, this is what I told you

 I’m tougher than I look & stronger than I seem

 I saw in your eyes then a hopeful gleam

 “I’ve always adored you, I care for you so much

 I was just too afraid to ever let you know.

 I thought I would destroy you, I never wanna hurt you…”

 The sad smile on my face was matched by your own

 when I told you I loved you & I always would…

 But it was time for me to go.

 “No! Please, don’t leave me?

 Don’t leave me; I’m begging you Jenny-Bird.”

 As though your life hung on every word, you pleaded with me to stay…


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couple holding hands

 So, I stayed.


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 But the pleading didn’t stop,

 if anything it got stronger & more desperate.

 “I couldn’t stand it if you left, I think I might die if you leave…”

 Then you started to cry…


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 “Oh, Peter Pan,” I said to you, so worried for my friend.

 “Are you talking about when I’m done with school?”

 I felt so foolish. Why should you care if I leave or I stay?

 I didn’t know what to say…

 “I couldn’t bear if you left,” you said in a rush

 Then with your voice quite hushed, through your tears you whispered

 “I think I would die without you here…”


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 My heart stopped

 Tears filled my eyes

 I tightened my arms’ hold around you

 “No matter where I go, no matter what I do

How far away I am… I will never, ever leave you.

 I’ll always be right here for you, Pan.”

 You didn’t like that answer.

 You shook your head; you growled & said,

 “That’s not the same.

 You’ll be gone, I’ll be here…

 You’re leaving in a year.

 You’ll be with what’s his name who does the stuff.”

 You tried so hard to sound tough…

 I laughed,

 you frowned

 I turned your head around

 Took your face in my hands & I said,

 “Adrian. I think you have been misled.

 There is no what’s his name, not now at least

 and if you wanted to…

 You could come with me.”

 Your eyes, how they lit up,

 your smile brightened the room

 I saw you come out of your spiral of doom… and then…


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love in the shadows

 The kiss.


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 The thing I never knew I would miss

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 exactly as I’d always imagined and better at the same time.

 For those minutes, for that hour… You were mine.

 But I knew it wouldn’t last

 the sun would rise, oh so fast…

 And with its rays your words would fade

 Disappearing in the light of day.


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 You felt my hesitation,

 you asked me why?

 So I addressed the situation…

“I’ve loved you for so long,”

 a tear sliding down my face

 “It was always wrong… Wrong time, wrong place…”

With a deep breath I explained…

 “Tomorrow this will be over.

 You’ll wake up, you won’t remember.

 I know you too well, Peter Pan,

 More than anyone else, I understand.”


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 Another growl then these words,

 “MURDER.

 I’ll do whatever it takes Jenny-Bird,

 to prove to you how much I care

Even if it takes forever, you’ll see just how much you mean to me.

Everything I’m doing now, everything I’ve done was to be the man you deserve to have;

so I could deserve you, too.

 I just can’t get rid of you, Jenny-Bird.”

 “Get rid of me?!” I cried, “If that’s what you want, I’ll leave right now,”

 Only half joking, I pulled away.

 You pulled me harder to your side,

 you kissed me long and hard, you said,

 “This connection that we have, it just won’t go away.

 I don’t want it to; I couldn’t imagine life another way.

 I’ve missed you Jenny, so much,”

 You showed me with your touch, the passion in your heart…


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 As you drifted off to sleep,

 I wouldn’t let my eyes close

 I wanted to remember everything from this night

 So that when the sun rose and you forgot I would know…


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 You told me that you loved me

you said how much you cared

 more than I had ever dared to hope for

 you showed me in one bittersweet night…


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 It hurts but I know I’ll be alright

 now that once more you’ve gone away…

At least, for just a moment

 you found the courage to say what was in your heart.


 And now, just like we knew you would,

 this night has disappeared.

 It didn’t happen if I don’t remember…

 But I will always remember.


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  Though our story may be over,   crush couple silhouette

 I will always be grateful for this one fateful night

when our paths met along with our lips

I’ll consider it our farewell kiss

before we embark into our new lives…


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Goodbye Peter Pan.

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About Jenny Shaw:

JennyI grew up in a rural town in northern Utah. My life wasn’t particularly exciting, no grand adventures or epic love stories. The oldest child of a middle-class American family, homeschooled and the only non-LDS family on the block, I didn’t have many friends growing up. So, I made them up. Writing became my escape, my way into the life and friendships I only dreamed of having. 

I’d been singing since before I can remember and writing for almost as long. Eventually, the two merged into angsty teenaged poetry which then evolved into something almost called real music. At this point in my life, my music and my writing are my ways of expressing myself, reaching into the world outside of me to add to it, make it more beautiful than it was before…and it is much cheaper than therapy. Ha!

Top Ten Ways to Romance A Writer Girl

Happy Top Ten Tuesday!

Awhile back I read a post over at Elephant Journal titled How to Love a Girl Who Writes. I showed it to the WTF group and we all had a version of the same reaction, ranging from:

“Oh. My. God.” to

*Sigh* to

“Now I finally understand what’s wrong with me!”

Since the founders of this blog are all writers and (well duh) women,  thought it might be fun to do a top ten list in the spirit of this article. We’re all at different phases of the romantic relationship story in our lives. But when it comes down to it, I think writer girls all really just want the same thing.

 So without further ado…

Top Ten Ways Romance a Writer Girl

10- Give her some S P A C E

For a writer girl, the act of writing is a little like peeing. You think I’m kidding, but seriously. When all systems are in order it flows nicely, it’s a release of sorts, it feels not only natural, but necessary. But it’s private–not something that should really be experienced with another human being in proximity. Respect that not every part of a person should be shared.

And hey guys, reading over our shoulder– whether it’s the last paragraph of an epic novel or a Facebook post, it just gives us the creeps. Just…don’t.

9- Be connected, not clingy

Yes, we want you to be interested in us and the things we love. But if your happiness hinges on ours, well…we’re both in trouble. Writer girls are…uh, emotionally erratic, to say the least. If she’s all undone about the death of a fictional character, or pissy because she has a major case of writer’s  block, hug her. Smile and say you love how passionate she is. And then move on. Offer to give her some alone time, or suggest the two of you go for a drive or see a movie.

We know we are all over the place, and believe it or not, writer girls don’t want someone who’s willing to wallow in our crazy. What we truly need is someone who anchors us to what is real.

8- Go for the quirky over the traditional

When it comes to showing her your love, you aren’t going to get far with the old standbys. The best tokens of affection for writer girls are those that mean something that no-one else would understand. Example: A leaf in a box, from the tree under which you kissed her for the first time. Or an antique key like the one in the story she’s writing.

You know that scene in Stranger Than Fiction, when Will Ferrel’s character gives Maggie Gyllenhall’s character  flours? All the writer girls (not to mention the baker girls) watching at that moment went aaaahhhh and melted just a little bit.


(Not flowers, flours. She’s a baker. See? Quirky and sweet. That’s the ticket.)

7- Embrace her crazy

IMG_1042

Picture of my feet, taken by my husband. No questions asked.

Most likely, if you’re with a writer girl, part of what drew you to her in the first place is her passion. She has the ability to make even the most ordinary moments seem complex, meaningful, and mind-blowing.. (Come on guys, you know this has potential for being hot.) Now, there is the other side of it, when she’s in a dark mood and the fact that you turned on the water while she was talking sends her reeling into the break-up zone. But, instead of being (very, very) afraid- what you need to do is man up and embrace it. Love her for storming off because you brushed your teeth. Go ahead and take that picture of her bare feet on concrete without asking why. Accept her crazy as part of her passion, and she’ll adore you for the rest of her days.


6- Follow your own passions

This one is fairly straightforward. Writer girls believe to the core that everyone should be passionate. Whether its your work, your family or even developing the latest gaming software, you need something that  from time-to-time, pulls you in your own direction. We might act jealous and irritated because you were gone for a day or a weekend…off doing something that doesn’t involve us. But lets face it, a little competition never hurt anyone, and without it, we’re going to think of you as a robot. Find something you love and do it. We’re passionate and we want you to be too.

5-Be Patient

Okay, I’m going to level… Writer girls are constantly being distracted by, well, everything. Probably we’re going to ask you to pull over so we can study the sun streaming through a cornfield, or wait for us while we hammer out a new idea through our laptop keyboard, about a thousand time over the course of our relationship. We need to know this isn’t going to send you through the roof. Which is why # 6 is a great idea. That way, we’re happy, you’re happy.

And we all know what two mutually happy people in a relationship together leads to.

4- Don’t read her writing…unless she asks

For a writer girl, there is nothing more personal than her own writing, especially a work-in-progress.  Don’t invade her privacy without being asked in. And if she truly loves you, she will ask, eventually.

An addendum: If she does ask you to read it, it’s critical that you actually read it. If you pretend that you did, she’s going to know. Don’t fake it, or next time she will. 😉

3- Don’t try to give her ideas…unless she asks

Ditto above, except replace the word “writing” with the word “ideas.” Trying to force your ideas into a writers writing…not to mention into her mind is toxic for a relationship.. Just don’t do it.

2- Be prepared for an epic romance

bare feet togetherI’m going to leave this one to the imagination, which is exactly what writer girls have lots of, which is why you should prepare yourself. For some things, there simply aren’t words.

1- READ.

I chose this as number one because it’s a toughie, and it’s probably the most important. We really, really need to be with someone who reads, and more importantly thinks about what he reads.

Okay, we understand not everyone is a literary connoisseur. You don’t have to read Faulkner novels or Tennessee Williams’ screenplays to turn our heads (Though, I’m not going to lie, we think guys who read Steinbeck and mist up over Of Mice and Men are kinda hot…) Magazine articles, blog posts, even the sports section of the newspaper can offer perspectives you won’t find watching TV.

Bottom line. We’re writers. If you don’t read you’re basically saying you don’t believe in the world that created us. So just do it, okay?

 

Thanks for reading, and hey, if you’re a writer-guy and would like to guest post a Top Ten Ways to Romance a Writer Guy, we’d love to hear from you.

Till next time,

~Cindy

Oh it’s NOTHING!

guest-posting

My Auntie M (as children we thought we were pretty special to have our own Auntie M–Like Dorothy) shared some of her writing with us this month and– ass that I am, I forgot to post it last night… chalk it up to all the changes I’m supposed to be going through.

Anyhow, it is a beautiful idea that she had and I am honored to share it with you today.

“Oh it’s NOTHING.”

 Have you ever done something for someone that you think is small and they tell you Thank you, And you reply – “Oh, Its Nothing.”?

Something like, taking the newspaper in when you walk in your grandma’s house.

Or giving a child a drink when her mother is especially busy?Pint girl

Maybe you just handed someone a napkin when they were too far away from the dispenser, or said; “Hello”, to someone who was all alone?

To you it may be nothing. But have you ever thought about what “Nothing does?

Today I was filling out a form for a woman.  It was so that she could receive an award, a token of the boss’s appreciation for a job well done.

As I typed in the amount of the bonus I was supposed to input $100.00 but accidentally put in $1000.00! When I proof read the form and realized the mistake, it was amazing to me how much one NOTHING can do.

It made me think of the many times I have said or heard; “Oh, It’s nothing.”

I just imagined what would have happened if I had left the form like that…

The awards were going to go clear up to the big boss’s desk and just suppose that she had missed that amount as well.

(I had actually shown it to the individual’s manager and he didn’t notice my mistake.)

Think with me for a moment, if you will.  What would have happened – say – If it would have gone all the way through the pipe line?  WOW what a bonus for a few hours work!

What if I had left off one of the nothings – $10.00?  WOW what a slap in the face for all that work!  Or Lets say I had not put in another nothing?  $1 – for all the work this employee had done over a month’s time that had helped the company greatly.

If we were to take out all of the nothings in the amount it would be just 1 cent.  That would have been quite a kick in the teeth! Let’s go back and imagine for just a second if I had added ANOTHER “NOTHING” to that award form? $10,000.00 Wouldn’t you have wanted to be the recipient of that?  I know I would.  Shoot – today I would take the $10.00!

This made me think, What if we do a bunch of ‘NOTHINGS” in each day – what a difference we can make, in our lives – because after all “IT IS NOTHING”.  Yet how do you feel when you do a “NOTHING” for someone?  You would feel pretty good most of the time if you knew you were doing little things for others that to you may be “NOTHING” but that they may be struggling to get to or just can’t do.

helping handsImagine – what the world would be like at work – people doing little random acts of “NOTHING” for each other? WOW – we might just want to be at work. Or our days would be so fun!

How about at home?  You and your husband just doing the little “NOTHINGS” that mean so much to each other or your children doing all the little “NOTHINGS” that would help SO much.

Have you done nothing all day?  You should feel pretty good about yourself about now.

Well, this is a whole lot of “NOTHING” for me to write a whole page about –

But it made me think.  “NOTHING” CAN MAKE A HUGE DIFFERENCE EVERYDAY!

Margo Loftus

Two Young Boys and the Importance of Family

guest-posting

The following two poems are very special to me. They are from my Aunt who wrote them for her son and my brother. I would like to take this moment to express how grateful I am for the example my Aunt set during this extraordinarily difficult time in her life. She doesn’t know, but her example of faith and fortitude have carried me through hard times in my own life.

The first poem is to my brother.

I will let her introduce them:

Bryan was born 3/26/86 and was diagnosed with Leukemia in July 1986. He was not initially diagnosed with Leukemia. They told us it was a virus that attacked his blood system because babies don’t get cancer. He was treated for a week and was sent home.  About 10 days later he went to Primary Children’s Medical center and was diagnosed with 2 kinds of Leukemia.

Bryan was in McKay Hospital getting blood and platelets when Jimmie was being born upstairs!  I feel they were friends and there is a reason Jimmie came when he did and is such a great man.  His guardian angel is the same age as he is.

Bryan died 3/2/87.

Dear Little Jimmie,
Dear little one
Do you know of the loss
Of my own little son?
You come to me
Stay with me
Laugh with me
Play with me.
I can see in your eye
You somehow know why
I cry.

Dear little Jimmie,baby hands
Dear little one.
You can never replace
My own little son.
But you hug me and kiss me
And somehow understand
And you dont seem to mind
when I kiss your small hand
And cry.

Dear little Jimmie,
Dear little one.
Your Parents are thankful
For their own little son.
I’m thankful too, that their son is you.
You are helping me through some difficult times
Sometimes through the tears
Because of your special charms.
I smile.

Margo Loftus
August 4, 1987

Dear little Bryan,
Now that you are gone,
Did I tell you I love you each day?
Before you left here for your Father so dear,bryan
Did I teach you my very best way?

Dear little Bryan,
When you were here
Did I say all that needed be said?
Did I cover you softly and kiss you enough
as you lay in your sweet little bed?

Dear little Bryan,
Now that you’re gone
I know I did not do enough.
Cuz there’s never enough time to do all that you should
But I did do the best that I could.

Dear little Bryan,
Now that you’re gone,
I can tell you in three little words
And I’ll send them to you so that they can be heard
On the wings of a special blue bird.

Dear little Bryan,
I’ll be with you someday and then I can do all the things
And tell you the three little words you have heard
That have come on that special bird’s wings.

Dear little Bryan,
I miss you my dear
And I think of you day after day.
I doubt that the pain that I feel in my heart
will stop ’til you’re walking my way.

Dear little Bryan,
My sweet little child,
’til that day comes and I hold you again
Be happy.
Do God’s work.
And remember ~
You’ll always be my little man.

Love, mom

May 1988
Margo Loftus

The End of Music Week…For Now.

Music has always meant a great deal to me. As Cindy told you, I believe that music is a more complete form of communication.

Music has also brought me some of the best things this life has to offer. I met my husband and my best friend in high school band. These relationships are two of the most important gifts that music has afforded me.

But there are others…

I have memories of my grandmother playing her guitar as our whole family sang, “You Are My Sunshine.”

I have memories of Cindy and I playing Christmas Carols on our flutes for our families one year. We went to her grandparent’s home to play for them. I received a phone call the next day from her letting me know that her grandfather had passed. I was so relieved that she had been able to spend a few moments with him…something she may not have done had we not gone Caroling that year.

I remember tours to Canada and California with the band in the spring. Some of my favorite memories are from those trips.

There are certain hymns that never fail to bring peace to my spirit and provide hope when I feel that all is lost.

Without music, I don’t think I would have met my husband, I would have missed out on raising four amazing children with him. I wouldn’t have met Cindy, my kindred spirit, and we wouldn’t have this group. Yes indeed, music has brought me so much joy!

Below you will find a song and a scene that I wrote for a book that our group is writing. I hope you enjoy reading it with music as much as I enjoyed writing it with music.

Exhausted, Heather cuddled the newborn in her arms and gazed into his gray-blue eyes; the wisdom of innocence gazing back at her. Whenever one of her children had been placed in her arms she always had an immediate rush of unconditional love that opened a new and surprising place in her heart. She knew this tiny being! He was brand new and to anyone else he would be an enigma, to her he was just as he should be and she knew him perfectly.

She looked expectantly at her bedroom door. David should have been back with Frank long ago. The baby had only waited for about 20 minutes after David left to get him. She was sorry that Frank had missed the delivery, but reveled in the quiet solitude with her sleeping infant.

The baby in her arms squirmed and then went back to sleep. She wanted to shower while the baby slept but fatigue was dictating her actions and she decided to stay in bed with her new baby boy.

She could hear Janet, with her four other children playing some game that involved cleaning up the toys. “Okay Pirates,” she was saying to the younger two “Let’s clean up the um..uh…starboard side and then I’ll make you peanut butter sandwiches in the galley.”

“I don’t want to be a pirate,” said Eleanor. “I want to be a princess,” her six year old desires asserting themselves.

“Maybe you can be the princess that us pirates have kidnapped,” said Mary. Heather was always grateful for her oldest daughter. Mary had an intuition about people that allowed her to smooth over almost any situation.

“Then I don’t think I should have to clean up,” Eleanor said. “If I’ve been kidnapped, I would be locked in my room.”

Heather giggled.

“I know why you want to be in your room,“ Tim yelled angrily. “Your room is already clean and all of your toys are in there. That’s not fair!”

Mary’s soothing voice followed, “Well, maybe we’ve made you our slave and since you’re a princess we will be kind to you and give you princess chores. For example, I think princesses would like to have a clean table and our princess has been playing with clay for a long time. Look at all the clay on the table in the play room! What if you wiped off the table? That seems like a princess thing to do and I will put the clay in the tubs.”

“Get me the princess rag.” Eleanor said empirically to someone. They must have complied because after a few moments Heather could hear the kitchen sink running as if someone were getting the rag ready for her.

“You have quite a club to join,” she cooed to the new baby.

The front door opened and then she heard it slam closed. Frank couldn’t be angry that he missed the delivery, could he? After four deliveries he should know these things happen whenever nature dictates.

“Everything went fine. Both of them are in your bedroom resting.” Janet said. “Congratulations!”

There was a muffled response from Frank and then her bedroom door opened slowly and he peered in.

“Hi Honey! Baby Patrick is here!” Heather grinned at her husband.

David entered her bedroom behind him, obviously uncomfortable.

“I’ll just go home now; this was more than I bargained for when I came to pick up your manuscript.” He forced a smile. “I need a drink. I’ll come see the baby next week; I’ll get your manuscript then. You need to just be a family right now.” He caught Franks eye and gave him a stern, angry look. He left, slamming the door behind him.

Heather could only puzzle over his anger for a moment before Frank was next to her caressing their newest son.

“Here,” she said, “you two should meet properly.” She handed him the sleeping infant.

Frank sat in the rocking chair next to their bed and rocked the baby in silence.

Heather stretched and then got out of bed. Her fatigue was fading and she knew she should take advantage of any energy she had. She was sore, but movement made her feel useful and she knew it would help the healing process. She assessed the damage to the bed. Thanks to the midwife it was minimal and she removed the sheets to take them to the washer.

“Can you keep an eye on him for a minute? I’m going to run these to the wash, if I do it now they won’t stain.” She was met with silence.

She turned to the rocking chair. Frank was gazing down at his son in his arms. Tears were streaming down his face and his shoulders shook with silent sobs.

“Frank?…Are you okay?”

“I…I have something I need to talk to you about.” His voice wavered as he spoke. She had never seen him this upset.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Heather.”

She didn’t know if it was intuition, God, Fate or something else, but in the way he said her name all of her worst fears were confirmed. She realized she had known what he was about to tell her for a very long time.

“I’ve been seeing someone.”

The silence lingered like a bad odor in the room. Heather experienced a strange mixture of emotion. Anger and sadness were expected; she knew she would feel those when he finally told her the truth. Unexpected emotions also revealed themselves; satisfaction at having known for months, fear at what the future held, relief for everything being in the open, pity for Frank and herself, and was that humor? Strangely, that’s the emotion that surfaced. Her laughter stunned both of them.

“Does she know that you are afraid of spiders?” She paused as if she were expecting an answer. “Have you been to the movies with her? Does she know how many times you get up to use the bathroom because you refuse to get a small drink? Or that you can’t ever read the word “debris” on the first try? Has she seen your underwear at the end of the day?” She continued to giggle and shake her head as she thought of all the things that had surprised or annoyed her during their 16 year marriage.

Frank’s face showed that he wasn’t quite sure how to react to her sudden laughter.

“Heather, I’m serious.”

“I know you are. I’ve known for a long time that something was wrong.” She stopped laughing and let sadness take its appropriate place. It slowly seeped into her heart as she began to think of the impact this news would have on her life-and the lives of her children. She quickly pushed images of her father packing his things into the back of his car out of her mind. She hadn’t made that decision…not yet.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered

“How long?” her voice was quiet and calm.

“For about two years.”

“Who is she?”

“I met her at the auto supply store. She used to work there.”

“That’s where you were just now, isn’t it.” This was not a question. Heather now understood David’s anger.

“Yes.” His answer was so quiet that it took her a moment to realize he had spoken.

“David had to track you down to her house?”

“Yes.”

“Do you love her?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

“I don’t know.” He stroked the baby’s fine, soft hair.

“Is this the first time?”

She waited through a long pause, “No.”

“The first time was about four years ago…right after I had Robert?”

Frank looked at her shocked. “How did you know?”

“Intuition. I gained a lot of weight with him. You told me you weren’t attracted to me anymore. But that wasn’t all of it, Frank. I knew there was something else. You had this deep disdain for me. You made me think the problem in our marriage was my fault and I couldn’t figure out how or what I had done. I didn’t understand your contempt for me. It made no sense…until now.”

Frank sat in silence.

“You stopped seeing her after about a year?”

“Yes.”

Heather just nodded as if this was the answer she was expecting. “Are those the only two times?”

“Yes.”

“But there were other things that happened. Before I mean. Whether you slept with the women or not, you were not totally faithful.” She rolled up the sheets and threw them into the corner making space for her to lie on the bed. Standing was getting painful.

“I don’t know about not being faithful, but I have had female friends…you know…at work. Heather, I didn’t understand what I was doing until today. I didn’t realize the impact my actions would have on my family. It was never serious to me. Never. I have always loved you. Please, forgive me. I know I need to do some work, but please forgive me. David…when he saw me…he said…” He began to sob again.

Heather could only sit and watch him in silence as he held his youngest child. She realized that she had begun detaching herself from him months ago.

“I…need to think and right now is not the time for me to make this decision. I need time to process everything. A lot of things have happened in our marriage. I just don’t know…”

“What don’t you know? Please, please don’t tear apart our family over this.”

“Me? Me destroy the family? The family may already be destroyed!” Now anger showed up, white hot, it stung Heather with fiery tentacles. “I’m simply deciding whether I want to be your wife, whether I trust you. And you need to decide what is important to you.” She realized that she had been yelling and made an effort to calm her voice. “Do you want to keep living like this or are you going to get help? This..what you have done…is a symptom of a problem. There is something wrong. You need help. And I need to decide what is best for the children…and for me.”

She gently took the baby from him and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. Leaning against the wooden door frame to steady her shaking knees, she focused on the fast-paced breathing of her child. She let the pain slip into a hidden part of her heart. She straightened herself and walked to the kitchen to introduce the children to their new baby brother, leaving her husband and the dirty laundry behind her.

Guest Post: Jenny Shaw

A musician’s thoughts about channeling emotion into art…

By Indie Ogden’s Jenny Shaw
 

Writing can be therapeutic. Taking emotions that fill you with pain, anger,anguish, sorrow, love, hope,  hopelessness, dreams, love guest-posting– unrequited or fulfilled – and let you place them outside of you, where they can be used to create, to build, to make something beautiful out of something ugly…or something heartbreaking . The words you put on that page can let other people know they’re not alone, not the only person to feel this way.

Writing can be challenging. It asks us to move outside of the box we normally live in, the way we express ourselves to others. There are no rules to writing (aside from spelling…), no one can tell you what you have to say, what pictures you must paint for your readers. Writing frees you from the confines of the “normal” world and lets you escape into a place where nothing you say is wrong, nothing you feel is “too much”,Jenny singing too passionate, whiny, pleading, hopeful, silly, it’s never too much.

I write songs. Sometimes, I really like what I write. Sometimes… I wish they sounded more like something else. So, I start over. I never scrap anything, because who knows but that something I wrote three months ago and hated won’t speak to me now?

This is mine. It doesn’t have a name. But it speaks to me. It may become a song…maybe not. It might just stay how it is.

Are you really such a fleeting thing?

Who would’ve guessed something so good could ever end…

As one day blurs into the nextgirl moon stars

I long to see you again…

Now I look for you each day

Praying that someday soon you’ll find me,

Somewhere along the way…

As of yet, I walk alone through this dark and stormy world, 

Hoping and wishing on stars 

for a love to call my own

So my heart, at last, can be at home.

I thought I’d figured this out, at last

But I realize now how naive I was

To think someone like you would want someone like me

To keep

To call dibs

To say “She’s with me”

What was it?

What did I ever see?

Are you really such a fleeting thing?

To go from embraces by the fire,

to stolen glances filled with shame

Things will never be the same, will they?

I lie in wait

Waiting for your call.


When I listen to a song by someone else, or I choose to learn a song to play, the words are the most important thing. Followed by how I know it will sound when I sing it. The following is a song called Perivigilo by a band called First Aid Kit. The lyrics speak to me so strongly, a song of passion and desire, unrequited love and hope with the full knowledge that it’s just never gonna happen…

 And that’s all she wrote… for now!

-Jenny

About Jenny Shaw

I grew up in a rural town in northern Utah. My life wasn’t particularly exciting, no grand adventures or epic love stories. The oldest child of a middle-class American family, homeschooled and the only non-LDS family on the block, I didn’t have many friends growing up. So, I made them up. Writing became my escape, my way into the life and friendships I only dreamed of having. 

I’d been singing since before I can remember and writing for almost as long. Eventually, the two merged into angsty teenaged poetry which then evolved into something almost called real music. At this point in my life, my music and my writing are my ways of expressing myself, reaching into the world outside of me to add to it, make it more beautiful than it was before…and it is much cheaper than therapy. Ha!

 

Woke Up and Remembered

Wish I could believe this was all a big misunderstanding
That you’re thinking of me as much as I’m thinking of you
Don’t know what else to do…

I’d give anything to hear your voice again
I don’t care if we can’t be more than friends
I miss you…

You’re gonna regret letting me go… Just a matter of time, babe.

But you’ve cut me off

You hung me out to dry

All I can do is cry and wait for the pain to stop

Then start again…

I know it’s silly to still dream
You could be the one I need
When you take every opportunity to prove to me you’re not…

I’m just a hopeless romantic
Lost in this cynical world
A heart without a home to live in
A hand without another to hold

I had a dream you showed up again
We talked it out, we’re on the mend…

Then I woke up and remembered…

You cut me off

Hung me out to dry

I won’t cry over you anymore, only one way to settle this score

Time for me to start again.
And now, the last strand connecting you to me has finally been severed.
I hope you feel better.
You’re free.

You’re gonna regret letting me go… Just a matter of time, babe.

 

About Jenny

Jenny Shaw is a die-hard Ogdeneer; local community supporter, little bit of a hippy, lover of music, anything British and sparkles. She can be found regularly at the Grounds for Coffee on 30th and Harrison, doing homework and drinking coffee or at the Sandtrap on any given Wednesday, singing her heart out at karaoke.

When she isn’t helping with Indie Ogden, she is volunteering all over town, when she’s not at work with the Ogden-Weber Community Action Partnership (Head Start). Jenny also works with the Buy Local (Ogden) group and is passionate about promoting, connecting and uplifting local businesses to make a stronger, more unified community and economy.

If you ever want to catch Jenny, just track her down at MacCool’s for ½ priced appetizers, at any of the fabulous vintage stores scattered throughout Ogden playing dress-up with Mikaela, or with the rest of Indie Ogden wandering around our lovely town.

Bridges

Today’s post comes from a dear friend of mine. I met her while I was living in Virginia. Her heartfelt love of everyone captivated me. She is an honest-to-goodness angel on Earth. She is an excellent mother, grand-mother, wife and friend.

She posted the following on Facebook and I thought the sentiment was so beautiful that I asked if I could use it for the blog. Writing comes in all forms, but my favorite is when it comes from the Heart.

This puts the Fire in Writing the Fire.

Building Bridges

By Elizabeth McClellan

 Humble Pie Check:

bridges

I am sure I have burnt a few bridges in my life, knowing or unknowingly. The important ones need to be rebuilt. The others were forgotten by all. If I need to rebuild a bridge to you, I have the nails and wood! Do you have a hammer and can we do this together? I would like that…

Lovingly- Liz

Posting from Humble Pie Check:

*What a wonderful thought. I need to rebuild some bridges of my own… thanks for posting this.

Liz: (Husband). I should mention this to you because maybe some of your friends and (typo-are) not my friends, but it applies to them too…

Liz: Suppose I can add (Daughter) who has built and rebuilt our bridge with me many times! Thank you for loving me enough to keep building!

*We have a great bridge, we just need more traffic on it! Miss you guys

Liz: Well, I must not need to rebuild any bridges, though I see where the bridge was and how now it is gone. I have nobody that wants to fix the bridge with me, no hammer to speak of… <drops head, falls knees to the ground and prays> God, help me to be here with my supplies when my other bridge builder comes with a hammer and some elbow grease. In Jesus Name, Amen

Building Bridges Part 2:built bridge

Proposal for my co-bridge builder: The purpose of the finished bridge is not to render us to think the same about life, its mysteries and afflictions; its purpose is rather to promote mutual understanding and peaceful coexistence. Also, it facilitates a smoother interchange of ideas and thoughts about all the aspects of human life and in doing so will promote understanding of others. A greater understanding of differences, and what gives rise to them, will hopefully lead to a decrease in the less pleasant aspects of modern life, such as strife, comflict and misunderstandings. In the process a framework can emerge, one where we put our differences aside, one in which we respect each other; trading cynicism about others and their motives for understanding, respect and tolerance. With an open heart ~ Me

I love you Liz. Thank you for sharing your beautiful ideas.

My Dad

I’m not much of a writer, in fact I usually only write to express my emotions because I really don’t know how to express them any other way. So, with that I felt there was a need to give just a little background on the poem I wrote below.

My mother had me out of wedlock, I didn’t have a father in my life at all, until one day she met a man who she decided she would marry. That man adopted me when I was five years old and has become the only father I ever really knew. Of course I loved him…always did…always will. But as you can expect, my parents had another child and I did have some resentment at one point of feeling he may not love me as much as he loved my sister. Later, I became a teenager, and struggled with my emotions regarding my dad. I said things like “you’re not my dad” and even set out to find my biological father. My dad and I struggled a lot when I was growing up. Sometimes I look back and wonder if he thought I didn’t love him, because I sure didn’t act like it some of the time.

I’m now 37 years old, and my daddy just passed away this March 5th after a long bout of liver cancer. The irony is it was nearly two years to the date of his liver transplant. In October of last year he was officially told the cancer had engulfed his liver and there was nothing else they could do. He was expected to have less than six months. I demoted myself at work and my husband and I dedicated myself to helping my mother care for my father.

The thing many of you may not know about liver cancer is one of the stages one will go through is the loss of their mind. They tend to start acting “drunk” at times. This is due to the toxins in your body no longer being able to be filter correctly, and thus, beginning to poison your brain instead. I really really wanted to be able to express to my dad how much he meant to me. But, as I told you, I don’t express my feelings and emotions well. So, I decided to write him a poem for his 60th birthday that December. However I had to give him the poem early because he started to show signs of his brain deteriorating.

Below is the poem I gave him. It’s not my best, nor do I really care, because it totally expresses the way I felt about him. I don’t expect you to understand some of the lines as they were written specifically for my dad with little tidbits only he understood.

My Dad

By Sarah Cooper

I’ve never been much for words,
Or showing much emotion at all,
But I’d like to tell you a story
That started when I was very small.

I never had a dad you know
But always dreamed I would
It’s something every little girl should have
A special part of their childhood.

I’ll never forget that day
Seeing him come through that door
Somehow I seemed to know
That I would get to see him more.

Eventually he and my mom got married
That special day years ago.
However he didn’t marry just my mom,
He married me too you know.

Shortly after that special day
My name was changed to match his and his new bride.
I remember feeling super special
As we left the building to head outside.

He carried me closely in his arms
And I knew he loved me a bunch
But he quickly passed me off to my mom
Because he spotted a way for a celebration KFC lunch!

Although I now had a daddy,
Growing up wasn’t the fantasy I thought it’d be
I learned my fair share of discipline
And occasionally questioned his love for me.

There were times we’d fight and yell
And I’d say things I didn’t mean
I really don’t think he took my words to heart
I think he chalked it up to me being an irritable teen.

Like any normal parent,
He made his fair share of mistakes
But I was definitely not the perfect child
I know I caused plenty of heartaches.

It wasn’t until I became a parent myself
That I realized the sacrifices he’d made
That despite his imperfections
I’d always been a recipient of the love he displayed.

My dad has always been there,
And has shown what it means to lead.
He always displayed hard work for us
As well as being available for those in need.

Although he may not believe it,
He taught me many important things in life,
Like how a man should provide for his family
And always be there for his wife.

I wish there were words to express
Just how much love I have for him inside
How much I love calling him my dad
And how it fills my heart with pride.

Dad, you showed me how a father
Isn’t blood at all,
A father is a man
Whose daughter sees him as ten feet tall.

You will always be my daddy
And I’ll always be your little girl.

I love you and will love you always!