Safe Distance
{based on a writing prompt}
The bar was reaching closing time. Tony wiped down the counter again without noticing he was doing it, just as he did every night. It was almost a meditation taken on every few minutes, keeping him grounded to the present moment. There was something about physical chores that helped keep his mind from wandering, his ears from tuning in to the conversations happening around him.
He knew all the faces in the room, as if these patrons were a part of his family. He knew things about each of them that he didn't even know about his own family, and that was treading far too close to the invisible – but very present – line he drew between himself and the rest of the world.
They didn't know much about him, aside from the fact that he was as attentive as they needed him to be. He poured strong and tended to every half-empty glass before anyone had time to ask for a refill.
It made life easier to keep his customers at a distance. In fact, he kept most people at a distance – even his own family. The place in his life where friends should exist was filled only with coworkers and patrons. Once he put the apron away and locked up the bar, he retreated to a very solitary existence. Not because he didn't want friends, but because he learned the hard way that he could only know peace if others didn't get close enough to discover – experience – the secret he guarded. He discovered it quite by accident when he was 22 years old, and he would carry the guilt with him for the rest of his life.
Writing group time is done!
It's been a hot minute since my last post. I swear to you that it's not because I'm one of those types who sets a goal on a Tuesday and promptly tosses it out the window on Wednesday.
You see...
Dearly beloved....we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life...
Thanks, Prince.
For real though...
A Ghost in His New Home
“Well, this is some bullshit.” That was the first coherent, sensible conclusion Alex came to when he woke up. “Woke up” was probably not the right phrase, considering he was unquestionably, quite definitively, dead.
Where to start?
This blog is going to be an absolute mess. It really doesn't know what it wants to be, and that's okay. This morning I pulled out one of my aspiring writer's resources, The Storymatic. The idea is that you draw cards to define your characters and your obstacles.
My cards?
ghost ~ first night in new home
This could be fun.
A Dream...
Last night my sister and I traveled to a dilapidated house, the skeleton of a home that we lived in as children. Our brother was absent because he chose to leave this world almost two years ago. Mom was absent because she's chosen to be...absent.
My sister and I walked through the front door, determined to find fragments of our childhood. There was an eery stillness in the house, but there was almost a tangible energy or presence following us in each room and hallway.
I think I've gone through my life thinking that there's going to be a magical age when I'll feel established, mature, settled, and secure with my friends and family. Let's just say that in my 40s, I'm finally realizing how silly that is, and I'm comfortably settling into my awkward existence of uncertainty.
Naming your blog is a difficult task. It's even more challenging when you don't really know what your blog is supposed to be. The good news is that no one really cares what you call it. Just write. So that's what I'll do.