I have enjoyed writing for years, creating numerous
stories, but never knew what to do with them. Now that I have my blog, I thought it might
be fun--or boring or laughable or sad or comical....--to share them in
serialized form. Would love to get your
comments! Here goes -- Chapter 1...
The Black and White of It All
Millie sat looking into the stream’s movement. She had so carefully laid
rocks along this 10-foot strip where she often meditated. Millie loved the communicating sounds of
nature. She often wondered if this
language had universal understanding—the swirl of her creek fully comprehending
the rustling of the leaves and the soft, quiet movement of deer, bear, and
cougar whose tracks Millie often recognized.
And then there was Gilly—her 4-legged part Ridgeback, mostly mutt—who
understood her movements before she did.
Surely all of nature has extra sensory antenna that enables them to
communicate.
Millie’s seven acres, an
insignificant plot tucked away in the Applegate Valley of Southern Oregon,
became Millie’s sanctuary the moment she saw it. Friends had discouraged her saying that it
would be too much to care for—retirement was for relaxation, they’d tell
her. But not for one moment had she
regretted her choice to live on this beautiful land.
The house sat in a grove of maple
and blue spruce planted by the former owners.
These lovely gifts of nature stood far enough away from the house that
the large windows in all the rooms took in light and sunshine most of the
day. A stream meandered through the
trees—the perfect sight for quiet meditation.
Today Millie didn't linger by the
creek as she often did—the temperature had dipped during the night and the cool
morning felt a bit too brisk. Also her
list of errands was long—Grange Coop, grocery store, haircut, and lunch with a
friend.
Since she hadn’t gotten her mail
for several days, Millie trekked down her driveway to the mailbox. Walking back up the lane, she
shuffled through the stack of catalogs, two books she’d purchased on the
internet, and other miscellaneous junk.
Among the pile she noticed a discolored envelope.
Millie wondered if this could be an
ad trying to appear time-honored. Then
seeing the return address, she felt a knot form in her chest.
Stepping onto her front porch, the
red front door framed the bedraggled envelope as matting on an antique
picture. The postage date was
unreadable. Millie went into the kitchen
and poured a cup of tea. Sitting down,
she took the letter from the envelop and saw that it had been written nearly 40
years ago.
To Be Continued...
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