If only.

Hey all. I wrote a story, and I like it, but I'm not gonna post it today. I'm gonna give you link to it for my Wattpad, but I'm gonna talk about my Aunt, Cindy Given. A year ago today she went to be with the LORD. She left behind a husband and two grown sons. They all miss her. I miss her, too, but I only wish I could have known her better. I only saw her a few times, but I know that I loved her. She was an amazing person who loved her family, and battled breast cancer for a long time. She has touched the heart of many. And I'm gonna let myself go back to that morning when I found out. (Of course it's not completely accurate, but I waned to put the feeling down on a page.)

"Mom?" My sister asked. "Is she..." My mother nods, and I feel a pang of sadness escape from where I had put a wall. I knew this was coming, we knew she would be gone before morning. But I guess I hadn't thought much about it. I take a deep breath, wishing I was crying. Wishing I was breaking down right now, not just standing there, numbly. But not a single tear comes out. I turn around and walk up the stairs, running to my room, trying so hard to think of some significant memory to remember about her. Not a lot comes to mind. Sitting wish her at the pool after My great grandma's funeral, watching her hold my little sister seven years ago and snuggling with her. Giving my family a tour of the hotel her and my uncle owned for a while. Too little, all too little did I know her. And now I'll never be young enough to run and hug her again, almost knocking her down, and even if I was, I'll never get the chance. I climb onto my bed, grab my pillow and hug it, finally letting all the tears escape. They rush down my face in a river of pain and wishing.
"If only." I whisper. "I wish I could've talked to you just one more time, asked you how you're so strong, how you love so much, I wish..." I shake my head. "No." I take a deep breath, a sharp feeling in my throat as I do so. "You can't feel sorry for yourself. You can't wish you knew her better, can't wish she was back. You barely knew her. You don't deserve to miss her." I close my eyes, and open them again. The pain is still there, the tears are still there. And she's still gone. "You need to stop, you need to stop thinking about yourself. Just remember, your father, his brothers and sisters, Aunt Cindy's husband and sons. They miss her more. They miss her more then you could guess." I mutter a prayer for my family and thank God that she's home now, with no more pain. I feel like I should be doing something. I feel like I should jump on a plane to New Hampshire and hug my father tight and sit next to Uncle Aylmer and hold his hand and cry with them. But I can't do that. I can't go anywhere. I'm just here, in my messy room, grieving alone. But God is taking care of people in NH, all of them together, crying and being happy that at least in this time of pain they're together. I know because when I Skyped with my father yesterday I saw so. They're smiling in the midst of pain. "I'll see you again, Aunt Cindy." I whisper. "I miss you more then you know, or then I know. Only god knows, and I know if anyone is in heaven, if anyone deserves to be dancing with Jesus right now, it's you. I love you." I close my eyes, letting  little bit of the pain out with a small sigh. "I love you more then I think."


Dedicated to Cindy Given.

(You can read my dad's blog post about my Aunt here)

(you can read her Obituary here)

Day 6- Apparently it's a Pinocchio re-telling...Part one!

Well then. This writing prompt-

Turned into a Pinocchio re-telling. But in my style. Okay, then. I've been watching waaaaaaaaaaayyy too much Once Upon a Time. (As it should be.) ;-) ENJOY! I only have the first bit, because it's longer, so I couldn't finish it today. :-)

“But we’re supposed to be in this together.” He whispers, and I shake my head.

“I can’t do it.” I shake my head. “I’m sorry.” I’m lying so hard, and it hurts. I want to do this, want to feel for him. But I can’t. He wants me to kill someone, and I can’t do that. I can’t end someone’s life just so I can be with him. Especially someone that also loves him. “Look,” I take his hand. “I said you had to choose, not stage something so that you can be with me without the cost.” I lean forward, touching my forehead on his. “And everything,” I whisper, kissing him on the forehead, “Has a cost.” A tear slips out of my left eye, and I let it fall.

“But I wish-” I shake my head,

“There is no wishing. There is only doing this, and loving someone, even if it hurts.” I squeeze his hand and stand up. “And you need to choose who’s going to get hurt, Joseph.” And I walk out. Just like that.

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Over the next few days, I hear that the wedding is being set for four months from now. I see Joseph around, but we don’t speak. He just nods his head to me and I to him. There's an understanding that he’s making this decision. And I'm glad. because I know what I would choose. This is not my choice. This is my little sin, loving him. I’m clear and happy, no secrets. Until now. But I’m not supposed to have secrets. I’m cursed, and I have to tell everyone. Nokia. A voice in my head says. My body tenses.

“Yes, Gepetto?” I rub my hand back and forth on my single wooden finger, wincing when my finger covered in skin splinters. I pick the sliver out and take a deep breath.

Pinocchia. I nod.

“I’m here, father.” I suck on my stinging finger.

What aren’t you telling me? I shiver, still not used to my creator inside my head, making sure I don’t lie.

“I can’t--It’s complicated.” I take a deep breath and plunge. “I love him.”

No, Pinocchia. He says, sounding resigned. You can’t. I shake my head.

“He’s making the decision. I’m telling him he can choose--I told him he has to.” I take a deep breath. “Gepetto. I need him. He’s the only person I feel like a real person around, like I’m not just made of wood and magic. I need him. I can’t--”

I know, dear. Go. Find him. I know you need to. I shake my head, wooden tears coming out of my eyes, starting to turn more pieces of me to wood. I think of him and turn back to skin again. I think of Joseph. I love him, and I need him. Please. I take a deep breath, suddenly an idea springing into my head. No. I think at first, but then I know it’s what I must do.

“Gepetto.” I say, tears of salt coming through my eyes. “I love you, and thank you for helping me, for telling the fairy, that I may meet him, love him.” I run to the harbor, toss some coins at the man who stands there.

“Take me to the Black fairy.”