I've been dealing with pain and a lot of stress. I'm working on a deadline and have just another week of heavy action. After that, it's batting clean-up, and then vacation time around the 4th.
I haven't exercised at all, and will cancel my Y membership. I'm just not going and I need to face it. For all the wasted months of membership, I could have... well, it's money/water under the bridge.
But there is good news: I conducted a writer's workshop as part of my contract job, and got good feedback. It was fun putting it together, and presenting it.
Yesterday, we took a long day trip southwest of here, and instead of freeways, I ended up on some back roads. It was great! The boy was busy reading, so I had loads of head time.
And a short story formed itself. Double bonus, we got back into town in time to hear a short story writer on the radio talking about how short stories differ from novels in that a novelist must create a whole world, whereas a short story only has to capture a moment. That is my stock in trade, I think, capturing those ordinary, essential moments in life.
So this morning, I opened a window and started writing. Between 9am and 2pm, I wrote 5,400 words and have a complete first draft. I don't have a title yet, but here is an excerpt. I still need to work it over more, make it tight and better, but I'm really happy with the story.
Jeanine stabbed the sturdy little plastic gardening cultivator at the earth, digging its tines into the hard crust of earth over the abandoned square of weeds and paver stones. What she really needed was one with metal tines, sharper tines. But she was not up to making a special trip to the store for that. It would be ok. She didn’t mind taking longer at the digging. No one else was helping, so she could suit herself.
She had received permission, in the form of a shrug and dismissal, to start this little garden again on the grounds of her son’s private school.
“Parent-volunteers are encouraged to help in a variety of ways at Mercy Heights Academy. Share your time and talents with us to enrich student experience and help keep our tuition costs low.” That is what the parent handbook said. Jeanine noticed it one day when she was sorting through a bunch of papers. She has often wondered why no one took care of the little garden. It got great sun, was situated in a corner of the playground where kids wouldn’t simply run over it in their play, and a split rail fence had already been put up around it. It seemed like an easy project to tackle — one that Jeanine could handle. One where a sudden onslaught of weeping wouldn’t interfere with the task.
The dirt parted grudgingly where the cultivator raked it. Sandy but hard, with very few air pockets in it. This ground seemed to sparkle just a little. The soil in this area was known for mica, and perhaps that accounted for the sheen. Or it could be glitter from the children’s art projects. Maybe it somehow got out into the earth of this abandoned garden. On her knees, wearing a baggy pair of mom pants and a floppy hat, Jeanine worked the earth in the four little squares making up the larger square, preparing it for the seed packets she had brought today.
It was important for the kids to see things grow from seed.
The previous week, she had put seeds in clear glass baby food jars with a strip of wet paper towel. One for each child in the kindergarten. The jars had their names on them, done in fat black Sharpee with curlicues and squiggles. It was the lettering she used for cake decorating too.
But the garden needed to have fresh seeds planted, marked in neat rows. She had the popsicle sticks and tape to mark each row. She knew the children would come look at the garden — the more thoughtful ones, anyway. And would then be able to see the word “carrot” with the seed packet picture of a carrot.
The sun warmed her back as she worked. It had been several weeks since she spent so much time outdoors. It felt good. She wondered why she hadn’t remembered how much she loved being outside. So many things had been lost. She was still counting them. How long does it take to finish a miscarriage? It had been months and she was still realizing the things she had lost.
