“I’ve been thinking about what I said about not being able to love you the way you love me. I can’t love anyone like that and I hope that makes you feel better.”
“I don’t care about feelings anymore. But I am glad that you are feeling better.” We are still separating.
He thought they’d stay together; she was not the person he wanted her to be.
Later, he yelled at her. She declined to yell back this time and imagined her own place, smiling. No one would yell at her there. Ever.
“You’ll find someone perfect for you!” Katrina clasped Heather’s hand and gave it a squeeze as they walked the densely populated beach together.
“But you don’t understand the violation that is. I like who I am. I look forward to grad school, to writing, to my own place.”
“I didn’t mean – I guess I was self-projecting.”
“No worries. A new partner is what you’ll find when you are healed. Healthy attracts healthy and he will be a good man. As for me, I am single-minded. I really am happy.”
I’m going under and this time I fear there’s no one to save me This all or nothing really got a way of driving me crazy I need somebody to heal Somebody to know Somebody to have Somebody to hold It’s easy to say But it’s never the same I guess I kinda liked the way you numbed all the pain
Now the day bleeds Into nightfall And you’re not here To get me through it all I let my guard down And then you pulled the rug I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved
I’m going under and this time I fear there’s no one to turn to This all or nothing way of loving got me sleeping without you Now, I need somebody to know Somebody to heal Somebody to have Just to know how it feels It’s easy to say but it’s never the same I guess I kinda liked the way you helped me escape
Now the day bleeds Into nightfall And you’re not here To get me through it all I let my guard down And then you pulled the rug I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved
And I tend to close my eyes when it hurts sometimes I fall into your arms I’ll be safe in your sound ’til I come back around
For now the day bleeds Into nightfall And you’re not here To get me through it all I let my guard down And then you pulled the rug I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved
But now the day bleeds Into nightfall And you’re not here To get me through it all I let my guard down And then you pulled the rug I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved
I let my guard down And then you pulled the rug I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved
I forgave. Everything. I thought I expected nothing in return. But acceptance and respect I have never received. The dismissing, the mocking, the insults remain. These things you feel I deserve. I am not a joke. I am a human being, that forgave as I once had been forgiven. My decision has been made. You speak as if we will continue on. What you said to me a year ago, and have never apologized for–as if you could–remains foremost in my mind while I consider. I am more than the list of your grievances and criticisms and insults. I am.
She picked the dandelions and made a bouquet because they were hearty and beautiful, just as she was.
“Silly woman. Those are weeds.”
“In the eye of the beholder.”
“Everyone knows they are weeds.”
“It does not matter to everyone. Only to some.”
“They make me sneeze.”
“Deal with it.”
The discord, deeper than a shallow grave, sprouted dandelions. She picked them because she chose to embrace them. No corpse would generate “weeds” that she could not harvest and make something beautiful.
“Nonsense as usual,” he said.
“Beautiful nonsense. Authentic, beautiful nonsense that mystifies and makes perfect sense to me.”
I can see clearly now the rain is gone I can see all obstacles in my way Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind It’s gonna be a bright, bright sun shiny day It’s gonna be a bright, bright sun shiny day
I think I can make it now the pain is gone All of the bad feelings have disappeared Here is that rainbow I’ve been praying for It’s gonna be a bright (Bright), bright sun shiny day
Look all around, there’s nothing but blue skies Look straight ahead, nothing but blue skies
I can see clearly now; the rain is gone I can see all obstacles in my way Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind It’s gonna be a bright, bright sun shiny day It’s gonna be a bright, bright sun shiny day
I can’t cover up my feelings In the name of love Or play it safe For a while that was easy And if living for myself Is what I’m guilty of Go on and sentence me I’ll still be free
It’s my turn To see what I can see I hope you’ll understand This time’s just for me
Because it’s my turn With no apologies I’ve given up the truth To those I’ve tried to please
But now it’s my turn If I don’t have all the answers At least I know I’ll take my share of chances Ain’t no use of holding on When nothing stays the same
So I’ll let it rain ‘Cause the rain ain’t gonna hurt me And I’ll let you go ‘Though I know it won’t be easy
It’s my turn With no more room for lies For years I’d seen my life Through someone else’s eyes
And now it’s my turn To try and find my way And if I should get lost At least I’ll own today
It’s my turn Yes, it’s my turn And there ain’t no use in holding on When nothing stays the same
So I’ll let it rain ‘Cause the rain ain’t gonna hurt me And I’ll let you go ‘Though I know it won’t be easy
It’s my turn To see what I can see I hope you’ll understand This time’s just for me
Because it’s my turn To turn and say goodbye I sure would like to know That you’re still on my side
Because it’s my turn It’s my turn
It’s my turn To start from number one Trying to undo Some damage that’s been done But now it’s my turn To reach and touch the sky No one’s gonna say At least I didn’t try It’s my turn Yes, it’s my turn It’s my turn It’s my turn It’s my turn
By Johnny Payne, author of THE HARD SIDE OF THE RIVER
Beginning with the Book of Lamentations, Barker announces suffering and the hope that is to follow, and that is the curve of this forward-looking novel. Here, religious faith meets the imperfection implied by humanism. It is the story of a little family, modest in its ambitions, looking mainly for closeness. But there are nasty wounds, some of them self-inflicted. In other hands, sexual addiction and child abuse might set the tone for a grim, Zola-esque recounting, fatalistic in outlook. The novel begins with the excitement of home runs recounted, and Dad closing a deal. Dad’s 1950 Chevrolet gleams in the son’s future, as the latter goes to wax it. Soon this gives way to Joe, the father’s, seduction of a young woman, because his practiced eye know that “all the women come to the parties full prepared for being seduced.” Things get good and sordid, just shy of a potboiler, but walking that line mostly with success. A typical scene ends with a fist in the face by a jealous real partner. Joe’s inner struggle is Faulknerian, the family curse: brilliant martyrdom. Booze and a woman at hand, but Joe in a perpetual bad mood, with sex as a “battering ram for his aggression.” There are sloppy explanations, brusque equivocations. Underneath, the current of hope simmers. Joe wants his woman to feel safe, if he can figure out how. First, he has to figure out for sure which one she is. Julie comes, her perfume mixing with the crisp high country air. Always the shadow of the father haunts him. The sex is plentiful but not explicit. Strangely, one’s precocious child could read it and not be offended. The novel is driven by dialogue, something in the nature of a screenplay. Inevitably, Joe ends up in the church confessional. Meanwhile, Wendy agonizes over smaller sins. Much of the novel is about “release,” a word that applies both to coitus and the mystics, the ecstasy of a body and that of God, two parallel paths. As this struggle continues, dark, wounding secrets about the past present themselves. There I leave the matter. You’ve have to read the novel to know where this undercurrent takes him and you. Barker’s novel deserves readers. One feels in the writing commitment, a yen to get down under the skin and find out what the characters are all about. No one is disparaged, yet no one is spared either.
NaNoWriMo 2020 is complete. I exceeded my 20k word goal by thirty! I’m so very pleased.
This year I wrote the opening chapters to TAKE A CHANCE and DELIVERANCE, some heartfelt Christmas letters to my adult children, and logged many words encouraging other writers.
October and November opened up the writing world for me again as I met writers my age with my experience, joined a couple writing groups, and talked shop in those forums. I feel like I’m swimming in my old writing pond again.
Thanks to the friends that dropped me a note or posted their encouragement. I am very grateful.
