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June 27, 2007

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Tammy

I am always waiting, waiting for something, waiting for someone such as my husband or my son or just waiting to hear good news, sometimes I am waiting for happiness to show up at my door or peek around the corner and smile it's big smile showing me how happy I am going to be, I don't like waiting either, I actually hate waiting, the worst waiting is when I have a some sort of health issue and I am waiting to hear the results, the feeling of butterflies in my stomach, my leg shaking uncontrollably, my chest flares up with redness and welts from all the adrenaline rushing through my body, I feel as if I have just had six cups of coffee laced hard with caffeine, waiting is exhausting emotionally.

Tammy

This is going to be a special day. I am meeting the man of my dreams, the man I have been chatting on the internet with and talking to by phone for hours on end. He lived thousands of miles away and minus three time zones. We met online when he emailed me and told me what a beautiful smile I had and how pretty my eyes were. So today is the day that I will meet him and touch him and kiss him. Today would reveal my future with a man I had only known through words and voice. I am so worried that he will not like me on the outside. I already know he loves my inside or else he wouldn't be flying here to meet me. It is so cold outside that I can see my breath and feel my nasal hair start to freeze. The weather is predicted to get worse. I am driving what would normally be 40 minutes to get to the airport in my old, beat-up, red Crown Victoria. His plane is due to land at 10 p.m. but I am sure with the weather it will be late. As I arrive and sit with the others waiting, I feel my leg start to shake and my stomach feels like it might burst open and empty all the contents right there. I can feel my face and chest start to redden and itch. I go to the monitors for what seems like the 100th time to see where his plane is. It is still in Pitsburg as this is where he is to catch his connection. Worries and thoughts are racing through my mind. When is he going to get here? When can I finally physically touch and kiss the man I have fallen in love with and have never even met? I want so much to hug him and have him touch my head and kiss me. I want him to tell me that I am as beautiful as he had visioned. My cell phone rings and it is my mother worried because of the stormy, blistering, cold weather and she wants to know why I haven't called yet. Finally the plane arrives and there is more waiting... I stand in the midst of a rather large crowd waiting and wondering when he will come down that tunnel, wondering if he will recognize me and know that it's me. Will I know him when I see him? So many people...nope not him. Oh God no. Thank God no...and finally, yes finally he is here. He is wearing a black multicolored cardigan with a black turtle neck, jeans and his military boots. He is carrying his brown backpack and laptop computer, the one he uses to chat with me. He is coming towards me and thank God he knows it is me. We embrace for just a second and then the kiss...the kiss that was not too long and not too short but perfect for strangers who are not really strangers at all. It feels as if we have been searching for each other for eternity, as if we were once connected and for some reason separated from each other...now though we are united as one. We are together again. Oh how I have missed this man that I have never met but yet know so well.

Martha

Delia wondered at what point she stopped getting things down and started to procrastinate. While in high school, she always rushed home and finished all her homework so she could have the evenings to herself. In college, she loaded up on as many credits as the university permitted each semester so she could graduate a year early.

Now she waited constantly for days, weeks, months, or even seasons to pass before she would finish (and most of the time, even start) any project. "God, I can't wait until the fall" she was just thinking to herself this morning. "Fall is such a great time...the kids will go back to school, it'll cool down so I can open up the windows, the public library will be open again on Saturdays..."

This wasn't the first time Delia felt this way. All spring she couldn't wait for the summer. "Summer is going to be great", she kept telling herself, "I'll get all those house projects done, I'll take the children on educational hikes everyday and teach them all the names of the flowers and trees we see (in English and Latin, of course), I'll start my days jogging every morning and finally take off those extra 20 pounds."

But that excitement soon fizzled. Summer came and the plan to paint the moldings around all the windows in the house fell by the wayside. It was too hot to open the windows to air out the house, and Delia obviously couldn't paint with the AC on and windows closed because, knowing her luck, she would end up poisoning the kids and the cat with the noxious fumes.
The nature hikes never happened either as Tommy was too engaged with his Xbox to realize that an "outside" actually existed and Madison just wanted to go to the mall. The early morning jogs never came to fruition either. Delia tried to muster up enough energy to get herself up out of bed, but she was just not a morning person. "I get up early during the school year to get the kids up and going why torture myself during the summer?"

So this morning Delia resolved everything in her mind. "I’ll wait for the fall to get to everything done," she thought. "I'll get around to the painting when the kids are out of the house and it's cool enough to open the windows," she reasoned.

"I'll take long strolls to the library and enjoy the crisp autumn air and lose weight that way," she thought. "Besides, jogging's not good for the knees anyway," she concluded and smiled to herself, feeling she had just avoided future damage to her joints and tendons.

As for educational nature hikes, she thought "I'll drag Tommy and Madison out in the fall. Hell, it's summer and they’re kids only once, let them relax anyway they want."

Content with her plan, Delia went back to flicking through the channels, waiting for Oprah to come on...it's 3:52, just seven more minutes.

"Yes, I'll just wait for the fall...I'll get everything done then."

Martha

OK, this is silly, but I just realized that at the end of my story, I should have written "it's 3:52, just eight more minutes" rather than "seven". I feel silly..I really do know how to subtract, please believe me :-)

wendy

Tammy first: (thanks for posting!): You did it! How did the no final punctuation feel? You clearly kept the energy going in the second post--fabulous! If you were to go on, I'd be ready for a dialogue. Plus, I'd love to know what that kiss tasted like, or what the guy smelled like, just for a little sensory grounding. GREAT choice, this is such an interesting area, the knowing without knowing physically that's going on everywhere....
Hooray!
GG

wendy

Martha--WELCOME! Poor Delia, I know exactly what she means. I think this is very much about motherhood--that wishing away time/wishing back time...that idea that we'll be different later. Poor Delia needs to find some pleasures in the present. I like how you use quotations with internal monologue to break up the thinking--give it actual words. Like Tammy--if you were to go on, I'd like to hear a dialogue, start getting a sense of Delia outside her head as well; I have a feeling she's one of those powerhouse moms no one suspects of having insecurities..........but then, I'm just guessing.
Write on!
GG

Ardith

Windows open, no ac, breeze coming thru the windows 11 pm fan circling warm air, wispy hair strands itching my nose as flashes of light illuminate the triangle shaped third floor of the house out my bedroom window looking like 2 eyes, their shades are eyelids, thunder rumbles in the distance, leaves of the chestnut tree rustle, wind whistles, a horror movie feeling as the delicate silence is quickly interrupted, a speeding car, its tires bump.. bump.. bump. bump. quickly approaches and in a moment is gone like the storm approaching I listen to where it's coming from over the ocean? the bay? I wait for the storm, the rain but will it pass my by?
Now 5 minutes
Flicker, bright stark night sky but only for a second like fast forward in a movie clip one last background grumble, the hot humid air quickly turns cool as the breeze picks up...I wait for the coming storm..cars outside faster now, being chased, sppeding, running, fleeing from the nasty downpour at their wheels..CLAP, SMACK, crying babies, barking dogs, the cry of rain, pummelling now, slapping down, spilling off gutterless roofs, fire engines wail, lights flicker, the night sky still lights up momentarily but I still can't see the lighting veins but can hear buzzing telephone wires, I crane my neck, face against the window screen to look over rooftops to the direction of the beach as I become blinded by the lightning so close I yell out an unexpected scream as the thunder claps and striking lightning startle me as does the creepy silouettes of branches & leaves from a tree I cannot even see in the dark, I go to close my window and jump back again fearful of the wild wondrous storm which is now right above me, around me, nowhere to hide, I just feel the power of God just wait for it to be over.

Janet.

Imagine always waiting for the bell to ring or the gun to fire: 'And She's Off' then you have it...my life--waiting for the phone to ring or waiting for the light to change, never really getting anywhere except further from the starting point...the point of it all is nothing really matters because it never changes only stays the same--same hair, same clothes, same face: hazel green eyes hidden behind thick lens and a mass of light brown hair never in place framing a face not exactly pretty enough for a picture.

Janet.

Imagine always waiting for the bell to ring or the gun to fire: 'And She's Off' then you have it...my life--waiting for the phone to ring or waiting for the light to change, never really getting anywhere except further from the starting point...the point of it all is nothing really matters because it never changes only stays the same--same hair, same clothes, same face: hazel green eyes hidden behind thick lens and a mass of light brown hair never in place framing a face not exactly pretty enough for a picture.

wendy

Janet--what I like about this is that you've managed two nice contraditions: speedy little piece of writing and the unstarted life--the slow; and a self-portrait in a first-person narrative, which is inherantly a contradiction, because describing oneself is someone one rarely does except in the fictional frame--but there's no mirror, just the looking-glass self, giving us this idea of an unexamined, incomplete life, and a physical body to go with it.
Good start (now get past the gate and keep going on your own, 'k?)
Off the the rainy fireworks!
GG

wendy

ARDITH--(I have not forsaken you!)
This start is excellent--a terrific stream of sensory writing--sounds: the bumping tires, the CLAP SMACK (onomatopoeia), the sirens and baby crying...and sight as well, the flicker, described so specifically. NOW if you were to go on (and maybe try to draft a short story? It felt like it COULD have that shape coming), I'd like much more sense of the narrator, and what's at stake. This is a very strong beginning (and beginning of tension): WHY IS SHE (I'm assuming it's a she, but of course it could be he) AFRAID OF GOD?
Keep at it, lady! And enjoy summer!
GG

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