"Hands" - a photography series

A photography series Rose and I worked on tonight. Basically, just me acting dramatic in a closet. and wishing I was Georgia O'Keefe posing for Stieglitz.
~ Fiona

 

 

 

 

 

 

You Can't Ask Why

 

A short story I just wrote at midnight... It's a bit odd, but when the muse strikes, I have to obey.

~ Fiona

 

 

You Can’t Ask Why

~ a short story

 

She sat up in bed and looked outside.

The window was clean and the night sky thick

With darkness and rain

“What are you doing there?”

“I’ve come for you.”

She looked at him with a frown.

“Why?”

“You can’t ask why.”

“But”-

“You can’t ask why.”

He held out his hand.

“What is that?”

“Moondust.”

“Where did you get it from?”

“Where do you think, stupid?” He reached for her. “Come with me, I’ll take you there.”

“No!”

“Come on!’

“No!”

“Fine then. I’ll wait outside here until you come.”

Night waned and waxed

And time melted into eternities.

She inched closer and closer to the moondust.

And finally she did it.

He smiled at her hand laid upon his.

“Come with me.”

“Why?”

“You can’t ask why.”

She took his hand and he yanked her out of her bed.

Out of her window

Out of her world.

He took her to a tree

Where every leaf was a question

She never even asked.

He plucked them one by one

And grinned

As he chewed them between his

Shining teeth.

She lowered to the ground

And held her heart.

“What are you doing?”

“Answering you.”

“You’re eating away my questions.”

“They were never asked.”

She stared as he ate the last one.

“Why didn’t you ever ask, my love?”

“There was no one to answer.”

“I’m here.”

He took her hand again and led her to a cave

Dark and pregnant with nightmares.

He flicked a flame

From his fingertips

And ignited the place

With candelabras all over the walls,

Ceiling and heart.

They were tall giant candles

Melting wax globs

The size of tires.

“What are you doing?”

“Melting these fears. They’re of no use in the darkness.

This place needs light – not your nightmares.”

The candle wax melted to the floor

Like a river which they floated along

Till they came to a stairway

“What is this?”

“I’m not sure. But I think we should climb it.”

“It looks like gold.”

“No, it’s sunlight.”

“Oh.”

“Come with me.”

They climbed,

And they climbed

To the far and vast moon.

And as they climbed,

Their hands grew together,

Their hips melted as one,

Their lips met and-

“What is this?”

“It is a kiss.”

“Why are we doing this?”

“You can’t ask why.”

Night and day became twilight.

Water and dust

Became cement

And the lips pressed together

Moved like a dance

Of butterflies on the streams

Of the human soul.

She lost her breath

And her legs gave out,

The moon beneath her

Crumbled.

“What is happening?”

She clung to him as she looked down

To the black depths of ocean below.

“You’re falling.”

“Falling where?”

“In love.”

“In what?”

“Love.”

“But why?”

“You can’t ask why.”

“Can’t you fall with me?”

“No, my love. I already rose with you. And I am rising still.”

“Don’t! Come down! Come with me.”

“I can’t. You have to fall first to rise.”

“Did you ever fall?”

“I have fallen in love a thousand times. And all those times it was with you. You, my love, in thousands of forms, in thousands of women and lives and worlds.”

“I don’t want to fall.”

“You have to.”

“Will I ever rise to see you?”

“Maybe. Or maybe not.

It depends what you take down with you.”

Her hand slipped from his

Yet she clung to the moon.

Tears streamed into the growing

Ocean below.

“You can’t let me fall.”

“I have to let you fall.”

“But why?”

“You can’t ask why.”

The moondust crumbled in her grasp.

And she fell,

Down,

Down,

Down,

Into the dark bottomless ocean

Of tears

And why.

She sat up in bed.

Wide awake

From the dream she couldn’t remember.

But she felt in her hand the fine edges of dust

Moondust in the crevices of her palm.

She opened her hand to let the moonlight shine

All the answers,

All the fears,

And all the reasons

Why.

And she rose.

She rose again and again to soulless heights

Always higher each time

Only to fall in love again.

Late Night Poetry: The Little Redhead Girl Is All Alone

 

 

The Little Redhead Girl is All Alone

A poem I wrote late in the night, inspired by my pink lamp Penelope. :)

~ Fiona

The little redhead girl is all alone.
Far in the night.
Deep in the night.
And the blue room is tiny.
The pink old lamp in the corner
Blinks
And sputters
And turns on.
“Who paints the sky blue?”
“How many tears does it take to drown?”
“What does a cloud feel like?”
“When does forever end?”
“Does the rose have a soul?”
“Do you think I am really me?”
“Can you answer me?”
The pink old lamp in the corner
Blinks
And sputters
And goes out.
Birthdays fly by
And forever ends
And the little redhead girl finds
The soul of the rose.
Now the blue room is vast
And empty
All alone
And the old lamp in the corner
Blinks
And sputters
And answers.

A Whole New World...

So it's summer break! FINALLY!
Last time I wrote it was just before starting school. And it was all just so exciting and overwhelming. I feel so many emotions - happy, excited, relieved, and maybe even a little exasperated. I feel like I have triumphed, like a soldier - I might even be suffering from a little post-traumatic stress.

 

Just kidding. It wasn't that bad. It was certainly an adventure!
I was super excited about meeting new people, plunging into a new environment. I felt like an explorer - leaving my homeland to discover what savagery lay beyond my civilization. It was thrilling!

My first day was a Disney princess moment...

And over the next months... I learned so many amazing things about life, people, and myself. It was truly...

 But it wasn't always so dazzling. Believe me.
I knew it was going to be tough going out into the world after my years of homeschooling in the calm shelter of my home. I knew that my parents were not exaggerating about how crazy the world really is. But when I was actually out there...
Boy, was I surprised.
It took me a while to get used to it. And since I've finally gone on break... It's taken me a while to wind down.

I know there's plenty of homeschool girls out there about to enter a secular university/college for the first time ... So here it goes!

TEN things a conservative homeschooled girl should know before going to a secular college!

1. It's crazier than you think.
You'll think I'm exaggerating. But there's immorality EVERYWHERE.

YES. EVERYWHERE.
I was flooded with exposure to so many things all at once. Promiscuity, drugs, cheating, and even horrific crimes. It is so important to keep our spiritual eyes and ears open - to be sensitive. Not only is it important as a spiritual person to become sensitive to this spirit, it is also dangerous if we do not. There are so many sheep in wolves clothing that it is vital that we be aware of their deceit.
For example, a certain boy was being extra friendly to me, messaging me through Facebook to hang out, telling me that he was a worship leader and that I should go with him one night to a bible study. Although a bible study sounded pleasant, I refused and put a thick boundary between us because the Still Small Voice warned me. I never answered his messages and avoided him at school. And although people thought that he was a nice guy, I knew something was amiss.

Later, I found out that he was expelled for rape and that he had harassed many girls on campus.
So believe me when I tell you, stay alert - always alert.


2. You will get lots of questions.
"You were homeschooled?!" "How was that?" "Did you have friends?" "Did you like it?"
And when you actually respond... "I loved it. I actually miss it." Their reaction?

Yeah, you're going to be considered a weird one, freak, oddball. Just answer patiently. Most likely, they are just curious and don't mean to be annoying. They have been brought up in the mainstream school system and don't know any better. Honestly, if I were in school all my life, I would be asking the same thing.


3. Your clothes will actually be dissed.

Okay, so I wear long skirts and not-so clingy clothes. And okay, I like to dress sort of conservative/ hippie-ish. But do you have to bug me about not looking "cool" or "hip"? I know you mean to ask curiously, but please stop. You're dissing my clothes. Shut up.
Be warned, my friends. You will actually get these questions: "Why don't you wear tight jeans?" "Are you not allowed to wear pants?" "Why don't you wear shorts?" And surprisingly, I got all these questions from guys. The girls just go... "Are you seriously wearing that?" I kid you not. This is not a scene from Mean Girls - It happened.

Usually I'm sure they all don't mean it in a cruel way - one of the guys who bugs me about my clothes is a friend and means it for good. But it can get annoying from others. Just don't get discouraged. Put on your conservative clothes - whatever style you prefer and be happy and confident in it. Why bend to the demands of society? Who cares? Everyone - except the people who matter.

4. You will be thought of as a victim.
"You did chores?!" Yeah, so people are going to think you are a kind Cinderella or other victim of cruel parents. I have often been referred to as "Rapunzel" - and not because of my long hair. They think because I did chores and was homeschooled, I was kept away from the world in a tower by some kind of... Mother Gothel.

Since I'm a drama queen, I thought this was pretty funny. Until I realized they were actually serious. And then I was just like.... NO. I am no victim. In fact, I think I was extremely privileged. If it wasn't for my homeschooled background I highly doubt I would have been able to expand my reading and knowledge as well as make time for extracurricular activities like the writing of eleven novels and the practicing of classical piano. Things I love and could never regret.


5. You will be told you need a childhood.
"You've never played a video game?" "You've never been to Disney?" "You never had a sleep-over?" "YOU NEED A CHILDHOOD!"

 

Homeschoolers do not need childhoods. In fact, I think we had more of a childhood than anyone in public schools could ever had. Come on, how is playing a video more mind-enhancing than acting out Shakespeare with friends and siblings? How is playing outside in nature and building forts and acting out historical events "abuse" when compared to the ever-so-enviable lives of public school children.
Don't even try reasoning with the, - they just don't understand. And it's sad. They have no idea how fun it is to stay up late sharing stories about the American Revolution or acting out scenes of Little House on the prairie with siblings.

6. You will realize your mom and your books are the best teachers you can have.

 

 

 So apparently professors are really boring and useless a lot of the time.
Usually when you have questions, they wont answer. They are professionals at this. They will address any other issues except what you are asking. Much like politicians I guess.
They will ramble on about the theories and ideas surrounding your question - theories and ideas that  never even existed until you ask. They go on to address the origins, the affects, and the history behind what you are asking. The answer? "It's all in your textbook."
In other words...

I'm exaggerating in this of course. But not by much when it comes to a few professors.
I mean, we homeschoolers are used to reading the textbook and getting stuff done. And when we have a question? Ask mom! And when mom doesn't have the answer... Google!
Why complicated things with all your personal stories and agendas? Or even your personal emotions?
It can sometimes get unprofessional.
For example, two professors were carrying on an affair and showed it very obviously in the classroom setting. Another professor shared obscene stories about his promiscuous lifestyle as "musical" examples" to his students. And one particular young professor was even interested in me as much more than a student.

But don't be depressed! There are some AMAZING professors out there!
I had a wonderful experience with my Music History professor. He was a beautiful person. He was interested in the students personally and did his best to insure they passed with flying colors. One day I had the pleasure of an unexpected lunch with him and discovered he was  Christian man of upright values with an amazing background of travel. He spent a great amount of time in Africa, living among tribes who had never even seen a white man before or other elements of western society. He was a fascinating man and wonderful teacher and I will miss being in his classes.


7. You will not be excused from guy attention just because you're a modestly dressed Christian.
You think that because you wear long skirts and read the Bible that you're exempt from the attention of guys? That they wont even consider you? Think again.
Prepare yourself and learn the ways of... friend-zoning.

It's simple yet complicated... It's tough when you think the guy is a really cool person and neat friend. You don't want to hurt their feelings but at the same time.. It must be done.
Guys are tricky creatures. They're more sensitive than we think. And yet there is rarely a good one found in secular universities - one that you would want to stay with for a life-time. Or even in a steady relationship. It's tough for lots of girls to wait for the right person. I understand they can get impatient  and frustrated, and maybe even wish to settle for less than they deserve.
But you must not give attention to the first guy who likes you! Friend-zone them!
If later you realize that person is the one you can see yourself with or years... go for it.
And if you don't like them and they don't understand the friend-zone concept... There's always the frying pan.

I personally am in no hurry to find someone. This is mostly because I want to focus on my musical and artistic career. Also, I am enjoying my new found independence as an adult and am not too excited about committing to a person before I build my Self and shape myself into the best person I can be.

 


8. You will be thought of as a freak.

It'll be funny at first to be the odd one - the fish out of water. You may even think it's cool and become haughty about being "different". But after a while... the jokes get old.
Especially the jokes calling you a snob. Look, just because I am sort of a grammar nerd and a history geek does not mean I am academically OCD!
So I correct your text-lingo. So what? Learn to spell!

 

Just kidding. I'm not a snob.
But believe me, your academic background WILL be the source of many a joke at the lunch table.
AT times, you'll feel overwhelmed by being the odd one. The one who isn't as experienced or as knowledgeable in things of the world.. And at times you'll feel like you can never fit in right.

The good news is...?


9. You will meet other awesome freaks.

I have met some pretty amazing people. Lots of funny brass players, many interesting pianists, and lots of crazy composers. My closest friend is a girl I can easily talk to and who understands my belief system, since we share very similar convictions. We support each other, keep each other accountable, and have hilarious adventures on our campus. I'm so blessed to have her and the many other fun people surrounding me at school.


10. You will be stronger and even better because of all this.
So lastly...

My first year at university has been crazy. But wonderful.

It has been an experience that has made me a stronger and wiser person. It’s easy to be yourself at home, without people constantly pushing you to conform. It’s an intense transition. Sometimes you’ll feel like just curling up at home and wishing you could disappear.

But don’t give into that. We are a product of our influences. But we are also warriors that can fight what influences we do not want and defend the ideas we must hold to.

University is a beautiful place. The library, the new people, the excitement of being thrust out into the world. But it’s also pretty tough. So pray and pray and pray… And know that there is always a G-d to give you shalom when you need rest.

Speaking of rest…

I’m going to enjoy my summer break!

Fantasies of the Average New Yorker

Good news! I won third place in a poetry contest! Yay! Kind of sad that I didn't first place, but I am comforted by the fact that there were A LOT of home-schoolers participating in this, so I'm very fortunate to have gotten any recognition. And best part... the $100 prize is soon on its way!
This contest was by far the most fun to participate in because we had to write a poem after listening to a piece of music. We needed to capture whatever the music painted and write it up in a poem. So you can imagine how much I loved it. For me, music + poetry = divinity!
I had to write the poem after listening to Rhapsody in Blue. I never really liked that piece, but after listening to it like three-four times. (okay, maybe seven...) I actually began to realize it's quite a fun piece of music! Sort of.

I still prefer Beethoven and Chopin, people, so don't freak out!
Anyhow, this is the poem which was inspired by said piece:

Fantasies of the Average New Yorker

It really is a sorry situation

To live in New York without the means.

But if you’ve got the gift of an imagination…

By Jove, the luxuries swell and teem!

Once the night blinks open its eyes,

I sweep out the door with a swish and a bang.

I toss my head and clutch close my empty purse

With a smug sparkle and a saucy tang.

My Monday blues are dipped in weekend gold.

And my aching feet sprout shiny silver wings.

The air hums a jazzy, ragtime tune

And even the Empire Building dares to swing.

You call this thing a red carpet?

I’ve got the Milky Way spread under me!

They’re whispering, “She’s friends with Rockefeller!”

“No, I think she’s won the lottery!”

Some famous singer gave me tickets to Carnegie.

She’s won Grammys and stuff like that…

But Broadway’s playing a special just for me –

Evita or Les Mis … or was it Cats?

Times Square is a swarm of giant fireflies,

Hiccupping and flashing with all the colors in a crystal.

The flashing reminds me of those haunting paparazzi,

And I shudder, my fine coat beginning to bristle.

Speaking of fur coats, 5^th avenue has a sale –

Not that I need to be at all thrifty!

I might stop by Christian Dior’s for a visit

Or maybe even eat breakfast at Tiffany’s.

And, oh, there it is! I see it just ahead!

Home at last! My sweet Plaza suite!

With gold and glass galore, and Chanel and champagne,

And all the world right under my feet.

The windows gleam like the eyes of a bride,

But on the steps of the hotel I’m trapped in a clause.

And it’s then that reality comes creeping close

Like death on little cat paws.

My wings fall off and I take a step back,

My fantasy is a shattered sunray.

But I gaze up at the dream with a struggling smile

And whisper, “Someday…”

To tell you the truth, I didn't think it'd win ANYTHING. Because it's just so silly and... yeah, silly. But I'll take a 100 bucks any day, so thank you! :)

~Fiona

My Rubbish: Windfell Heath

Here are parts of my contemporary romance/drama novel Windfell Heath. They’re just my favorite parts of the story and thought I could share. And just so you have an idea of the characters:

Anne-Marie MacKeats  (Nan) is a homeschooled/unschooled girl whose mother died in a terrorist attack. She is abused by her alcoholic father and makes friends with the small town's beggar boy - Andro.

Andro Tehrani is an orphan surviving on his own. Most of Windfell Heath hates him because he is Arab and they are still recovering from the anger they experienced after the death of Nan's mother.

And as one might expect, they become friends, almost like siblings, and end up falling in love. Of course! :)

The quotes below are taken from the first part of the book, Nan. Which is (surprise!) narrated by Nan. I’ll be posting other snippets from the second part of the book Lorry which is narrated by the antagonist! (AKA villain of the story!)

But for now, here’re the snippets of Windfell Heath.

Oh, and please (please!) feel free to comment and tell me what you do/don’t like most. I’m an amateur writer, so I need all the help I can get!

~ Fiona

Now as I look back, I realize that I must have made him feel really uncomfortable. He’d never seen a girl cry before and the experience must have been disturbing. He probably felt like he should comfort me, but … what could he say? Instead, he just sat on the floor beside me and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. But this action spoke all the words of love I hadn’t heard in years. And it was all spoken silently.

***

I withdrew my hand from his to run along the pebbles.

“Watcha doing?” he called out after me and followed behind.

I bent to pick up a seashell, the type you can hold to your ear and listen to the echo of the waves. I held it to my lips instead and eyed my friend with a smile. “Hello?” I whispered. “Tell my friend Digger a secret.”

He grinned and played along, picking up a seashell for himself. He pressed it to his ear to listen.

Like a telephone, I spoke the message through the shell: “I’m going to be your best friend.”

Digger blushed and whispered into his shell. “I’ll be yours too.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

***

You know how you can just feel someone staring at you? Well, I got that feeling that Sunday and glanced towards the church window. There they were – the big blue eyes and mass of dark curls peeping over the edge of the window. I twisted a rising smile – it’s a good feeling when the other part of your soul decides to show up. And although I couldn’t see his mouth, I knew he was smiling too.

***

The following nine years were a blur of colors and happiness. And Time, being the mean thing that he is, stole those days from under our feet way too soon. He and his friend Fate seem to have a nasty habit of cutting short anything beautiful and peaceful. Kind of like a two-year-old who laughs as he greedily tears apart a rose and finds pleasure in destroying something so delicate.

            Those days were passed in all the sweet and fun pastimes you could think of. From playing hide-in-seek in the grocery store to borrowing – *ahem* stealing *ahem* - the neighbor’s sailboat to even writing anonymous love-letters to Isobel as a joke.

            But we also had an intellectual and calm side to complement our wild adventures.

            We read and read and read. We read late into the night until our eyes burned and gave out with the strain. What did we read? – Oh, all sorts of things. Poetry by Angelou, Dickenson, Frost, Milton, and Shakespeare. And novels like Les Miserables, The Great Gatsby, Robinson Crusoe, Dracula, and Wuthering Heights. We would even read theological stuff – the Bible, Koran, and Jewish lore. And philosophy? – Ha, like you wouldn’t know! We created a world around ourselves, especially as we grew older. It was a web woven of the entire world – or at least all the things we loved about the world.

            Maybe that’s why we came to a tragic end. We entered the real world and just couldn’t handle it.

            Or maybe the world couldn’t handle us.

***

We laid on our backs laughing so vehemently that our stomachs trembled and cramped with our joyous noise. It was that kind of laughter that comes without the prompt of something funny. It’s the kind of laughter that you create when you’re with the person you love most just because you’re so deliriously happy.

***

I slipped my hand into Andro’s and smiled up to his face. In the past nine years I’d known him, he’d transformed from a scrawny little boy to a tall sinewy man. Long, tangled black hair fell to his wide shoulders which were thick with the mark of hard labor. His jaw was defined almost as if shaped perfectly with a ruler. And out of the darkness of the skin of his face, his blue-green eyes shone like small oceans in a sandy desert. He probably sounds like a stunning guy. But if you actually saw him, you probably wouldn’t be impressed. Because, you see, I didn’t notice the oily face, the prickly scruff, the torn jeans, and the stained T-shirt. Nor did I notice his terrible smell or yellowish teeth.

Maybe that’s why I loved him – I couldn’t see anything but the good in him.

***

Our proximity and silence became too dangerous. Throughout the years, silence and proximity became a road paved with enchantments we were too afraid to admit. The air that was dead about us when we were children now tingled in space and burned our skin. It was all so confusing and yet so desirable. We had read about this in novels and laughed at it. “Corny romance,” we’d say.

But it wasn’t at all corny. It was real. And petrifying.

***

We drew close to the edge of the cliff. The entire world seemed laid at our feet: the rushing sea, the dancing grass, the soaring gulls. I felt heady as I stared down at the daring plunge of the cliff into the sea. Mist surrounded us in curtains of white, shedding rainbows in the air.

“Lay down,” said Andro, pulling me down to the ground with him.

I lay on my back, my eyes gazing into the dome of the sapphire sky.

“Close your eyes, but open your heart … and let your soul fly to heaven.”

A sudden feeling rushed through me. It was as if I were soaring and falling at the same time. In that moment, I could feel every breath of the wind, every heartbeat of the earth. Joy poured into me like a burning liquor being poured silkily into a glass. Gone was the world and its cares, gone was Mom and Dad and Winter. All was empty and clear space – and peace.

I gazed into Andro’s inquisitive eyes which hovered over me. Tears slid down my cheeks and the smile on my lips trembled. “I feel free.”

Andro smiled. “That’s God.”

***

“Too bad you’re stuck with an out-cast. I still don’t understand why you don’t just break-up with him. If you clean yourself up, you can find someone way better than”-

I felt my face burn as I cried, “Andro is an outcast because of ignorant, hateful people like you. And I won’t stand by and watch someone being treated like that alone.”

“So you have no problem with being friends with the kind of people who murdered your mother?”

“Funny you’d ask that when no one has a problem with Germans even after they murdered six million Jews.”

That seemed to shut her up.

***

I was sitting on the washing machine with my eyes closed. But my mind was open wide.

I thought about how perfect the world would be if people didn’t see people for what they are but who there are – if people wouldn’t see Andro as a threat but as a friend, if people wouldn’t see me as a freak but as a person… if only, if only.

You’d think that people in the twenty-first century would realize this world was a weird place filled with weird people – and learn that weird is a norm. But no. Maybe the twenty-second century will be different.

***

My cheeks were flaming and my eyes burned with a light that wasn’t there before. I was constantly filled with this feeling somewhere between agony and joy. Everything had changed. And yet everything was in its place. It felt like the world had been dipped in liquid sunshine and now everything burned and glowed with the power of the sun.

***

A calm silence settled before Andro whispered, “Do you hear that?”

“What?”

“God’s voice.”

“You must hear better than me,” I said quietly, nestling my head into his shoulder.

“He says that our souls are so alike, He can’t tell us apart.”

I giggled. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not if we stay like this – together, like this.” He buried his face in my hair.

Tears misted my eyes and I whispered, “What if we separate?”

“We can’t.”

“Then what’ll we do?”

“We’ll just have to stay like this, grow old like this, and die like this.”

“It sounds so simple.”

“It is simple.”

I held his hand and gazed far into the depths of the starry sky. “Everything seems so clear now, like the world is a picture.”

I turned in his arms to raise my face up to his. The entire world seemed to be a delicate floating disk, and the air seemed so tenuous, it could shatter at any moment. I leaned my cheek to his and whispered, “Andro. I love you.”

“Then that’s it.”

***

“You talk about Nan having a choice, but I know your kind!” Cynthia stepped forward daringly with glittering eyes of fury. “You sick, controlling men that think you own the world.”

“If anyone is sick and controlling, it’s you!” he cried.

She rushed to me and took my hands with wild eyes. “Nan, listen to me. Did you just see his reaction? That’s a controlling man. There’s this thing called Feminism that rose in the Seventies which means you now can be whatever you want to be! You don’t have be imprisoned to a life in a cottage with a controlling husband and a bunch of kids!”

“Aunt, you’re being ridiculous!” I cried furiously, pushing her away. “If Feminism is supposed to liberate women, why aren’t I free to make the choice to marry?”

“Because this is wrong, sweetheart,” she cried, grabbing me by the shoulders. “Very, very wrong! I will not let you make the same mistake my sister did! I can’t!”

            “I am not my mother!” I shouted. I wriggled out of my aunt’s hands and ran out of the house.

***

“No, Nan. Look. We have nothing to worry or cry about.” He touched his forehead to mine and whispered, “Don’t look back. There’s no reason to. As long as I am me and you are you, we have no hope of ever escaping each other.”

“I’ll always look back,” I said. “I’m so scared, Andro. I’m so scared.”

 He smiled a wavering smile and lifted my face to his. “Come on, Nan. The world can’t spin until you smile.”

            I gave a tear-drowned chuckle and mustered a trembling smile. “There.”

***

I can’t say anymore now. Because... Well, I just don’t have to. What I’ve told is really all that matters. My life in California, my separation from Andro, the accident, the baby, my death… None of that really matters. All that matters is that Andro and I lived and loved more than anyone could understand. We were dangerous together – like dynamite and lighter-fluid. When a spark happened, it all went up in flames and smoke.

            But that’s okay. I’m spending my Eternity waiting patiently. He’s coming soon. I just know it. And I’ll be ready to meet him here when he arrives in our land beyond the sun.