Thursday, June 6, 2013

Meeting An Angel (a short story)

Sometimes a chances encounter with a complete stranger can completely change your life. It's happened to me--over and over again. So many times, in fact, that I've coined an expression to describe the meetings. I call it 'meeting angels'. Here's an example...


Meeting an Angel


What am I going to do now? That question had been dogging me for months. The years after my mother’s death had been ones of transition. My husband and I had moved from the urban mainland to a rural island. On the island, I opened a craft supply store only to close it two years later. My experiences there had led me to a new career—knitwear design. But it hadn't been as easy to establish a career in knitting as I’d hoped.
All through my life knitting and writing had been the two constants—my two passions. I’d tried knitting. Now I knew the days were numbered on that career. It was going nowhere.
I have to close the business, I told myself. And do… And do what?
I climbed out of the truck and followed my husband past the rows of vehicles, up the stairs and to the passenger deck. We claimed one of the last available benches.
Maybe if I write about it the answer will come to me? This strategy had worked in the past. I pulled a pen and my journal out of my purse. I wrote about the weather, the ferry and what we where going to do on the mainland. Then I wrote:  maybe I could be a writer. I quickly added a series of buts—but I have dyslexia; but I don’t know how: but I don’t know any authors.
Me become a writer. It sounded so silly in my head. But maybe it wouldn’t sound that silly if I said it out loud.
“I want to be a writer,” I told my husband.
“What do you mean you want to be,” he said. “I find your writing all over the house. You are a writer. You do write.”
“No, I mean for a living. Be an author. But I have no idea how to do that. And me? An author? It’s too… It’s too si—“
The woman who was sitting on the bench in front of ours, turned around. “Pardon me,” she said. “I don’t mean to eavesdrop. But I heard you say you wanted to be a writer.”
I blushed but nodded.
“I’m an author.” She gave me her name and told me about her books. “And there’s only one way to be an author.”
I was hanging on her every word. I wanted so badly to know the secret. So I asked. “How?”
She fixed me in a soft, friendly gaze. Smiled. And said. “It’s not as hard as you think, you know. To be an author, you need to write. So write.”

Angels will visit you too. All you have to do is stay open to them. They'll find you. In fact, you may even get to be an angel in someone else's life.
***
Sharing my author journey...

I've been keeping an on-line journal since 2005. Encouraged by your support, recently, I began re-reading (and revising) the most interesting articles/short stories. It's an interesting time travel. I think I'll spend my summer in the past. : )

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