Tag Archives: making mistakes

5 Reasons To Go To A Writing Conference

I was incredibly nervous to attend my first Writing Conference.  I was going to be in the presence of many amazing and accomplished authors, not to mention my competition.  It was a little overwhelming for me.  I decided to do it anyway. My goals: learn a lot, approach at least one person and talk about my story, get out of my comfort zone, and improve my confidence.   I was riding with a couple of said amazing writers who were kind enough to even come and pick me up.

I made an entrance to the Life The Universe and Everything Conference.

It started with a fall, flat on my back as I approached the car.  Not what I had planned.

It was icy, and I was mortified.

Author 1 and Author 2-so kind!

It got much better from there. You see, when you start flat on your back, there really is only one way to look,and that’s up.  So I started climbing to the light.

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I embraced the conference and I learned the following things:

1: I may have been overdressed.  It was a long climb up people.  I am so used to business conferences and the idea of looking professional when presenting oneself to the world. My slacks and sweater were not the common apparel.  I missed the boat on this when I chose not to wear my flashing eyes headband or tie dyed shirt and bathrobe.  For me though, I was comfortable in myself and this helped my confidence.

2: Writers are very nice people.  Conversations came easy and I found that I was enjoying meeting new people.  People offered to read my book and query letter, just because they could and thought it might help me.  People smiled and looked me in the eye as they said hello.  For a bunch of covert home bodies who write in their basements, people skills overall, not too bad!

3: Query letters have only three parts, but are really really hard. I am still waiting for the day when I can say, “Nailed It” but for now, I go back to the drawing board to continue working on the shortest, but most difficult process of my entire book so far. Key takeaways: I have a book, not a series.  I need to work on selling just one.  Also, don’t ask questions in the query, make statements that bring emotion.

4: Be prepared with a pitch and a card. I didn’t have either, so I found myself floundering a little.  Author cards were like pogs back in the day.  Everyone was slapping them out on the table. I felt a little left out.  Followed closely by my name, (and sometimes before, I was asked what my book was about.  I was more used to getting to know people by what they do other than write, that this was a challenge for me.  I am working on something though so I will be prepared next time.  It’s that confidence piece I need to work on and be prepared.  Writing is a business, not just finishing a manuscript.  I am selling something after all.

5: Writing conferences are really really fun. I thoroughly enjoyed myself.  I came out of my shell and talked to people I didn’t know.  I told a lot about my story and made connections with people who might actually be able to help me get my book published, at least by giving me feedback and ideas.  I met some great people and took away so many notes.

If you have the chance to attend a conference, I highly recommend it.  It is a great way to really get your feet into the world of writing and decide if it is something you are really committed to.  I am and I am so happy that I didn’t just walk back into my house, but instead, I looked up, and I climbed my way out.

 

 

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An Olympic Sized Lesson

This is really a guest post by my girl one, but she is a little too small to type on her own just yet.

We love the Olympics at our house.  After watching one evening my four year old came up with an idea. An idea of Epic Proportions.  “Let’s have our own Olympics!”

Yes, Let’s!!

So the next morning she woke up with big plans for our little family.  It came with crafts.  Lots of crafts.  We made a torch, medals, and a US Flag.

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The key to the post lies here.

She made them.  Yes I helped when asked, but she did most of the work.  She wrote the numbers, she cut the flames, she picked the ribbon all of it.  The result-super cool medals for everyone, one cool torch, a unique America flag, and one very happy and proud little girl.  I could have taken over a little more, helped her write the letters, or cut individual flames for the torch, then, taken pictures of the final product and pinned them to pintrest.  I may have gotten a few likes from my very supportive friends, but instead I let her run with it.  She was delighted, her whole face showed it.  These were her Olympics.

Next up, the events.  She was most excited about the speed skating and the figure skating.  We live in a climate that we could have made some events outside, but she had other plans.  Blankets covered the floor of our speed skating ring.  The keyboard acted as background to our figure skating competition.  We had a mattress and pillows for our ski jumping, and used farm animals for a grand curling competition.  We even had the torch ceremony with real Olympic background music where we talked about being Americans.

The events were so much fun.  She wanted to win them all.  But she didn’t.  We learned lessons on being happy for others and working hard.  We laughed so much and made so many memories that this will absolutely happen every Olympics.

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The truth is: My sidekick is actually the one teaching me. Her creativity has no limits.  If I give her the rains just a little, this girl child can run free.  What an inspiration.  I am looking forward to seeing, just how she is going to change the world, because no doubt, she will move mountains.  I need to see the world through her eyes a little more, and mine a little less.  She sees everything, even if sometimes I think she is too young to understand.  Even when I think she is too young to participate, maybe, I just need to look more from her level so even I can enjoy life a little more.

Go get ’em America!  Our whole family is cheering for you!  Lesson learned!

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10 Things I Learned From My Dad

My Dad is a pretty amazing man.  He helped me to become the person I am today.  The more I look at life, the more I realize that my Dad is a pretty smart man too.  Here are just a few life lessons that I learned from my Dad.

10Puddles are made to jump in. God made rain for a reason.  Yes, we come from a farming background, so there are many needs for rain, but to my Dad-they are made to jump in, enjoy, and give thanks, and thanks should come whether you are in play clothes or your Sunday best. Say thank you, every chance you get!

9-If you drive the car, you can change the tire. It’s important to be independent because you never know when you may be the only one to bail you out.  I learned how to change a tire early on, but I can assure you that if my Dad was anywhere near-by and knew that I had a flat or any type of car trouble, he was the first one to respond.  

8Everyone has good in them. It doesn’t matter how many mistakes a person makes, or if they are openly mean.  It doesn’t matter how many times they take advantage of another person or hurt someones feelings, somewhere, inside there is good.  Through kindness and compassion you can find it. Forgive.  It may take time, but it is worth it. If for some reason they won’t let you in, be kind anyway, but you can love from a distance if it is doing more harm to you than good.

7-Life is too long to be unhappy.  I know the saying most often goes, life’s too short to be unhappy, but my Dad once said, “Life is too damn long to be unhappy, sis” and it’s so true. If you have to change something in your life to truly be happy, then get it done.  You are wasting some valuable times of joy.

6-A lady doesn’t swear. She does, however, stand up for herself.  She can fix almost anything on her own, but it’s okay to let someone open her door.  A lady says “No” but is kind to others and includes everyone. A lady knows how to work, is independent, and never gives up.

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5-A perfect dinner includes Chili Cheese Dogs and things that start with P.  My Dad makes a mean Chili Cheese Dog and is one of my favorite meals with him.  For dinner to be complete though it must also include Pickles, Popcorn, and his People.  Family and friends are the most important in his life.  There’s always room for more at the table, and if needed, he will even offer a ride.

4-Dream Big. I am pretty sure that my Dad thought I was the best at whatever I did.  While that is not true, he did show me that if I really want something and I am willing to work for it, I can probably have it.  He also loves the stars and showed me that our world is so much bigger than us.  There is so much more to life than just what we can touch.  So if it can be imagined, it can probably happen.

3-It’s probably not as bad as it feels right now. This has a double meaning. My Dad taught his girls to be tough, and get back on the horse.  Sometimes though, we really should have stayed off-received stitches-or visited a doctor, however, we have great stories, some scars, and a lot of pride for our accomplishments.  He also has a way of making sure that when times are tough, we know there is a silver lining and it will get better.  When it does get better, he reminds us of how far we have come.  My sisters and I depend on him as our constant in life.  He is our North Star.

2-Tools for life are: a Leatherman, duct tape, WD-40, twine, and a little plywood never hurt.  Pretty much anything can be fixed (or built) if you have those tools on hand.  Some may consider the fix temporary, but if it lasts-that’s permanent wouldn’t you say?

1-Family First and Always. Anything for family.  Anytime.  This also includes, neighbors, friends, and that guy down the street that you have never met, but saw one time. Okay maybe not quite that far, but my Dad will do anything for anyone, but especially his family.  I know he will be there for me no matter what.  This includes a late night drive in the snow for a night in the hospital, a flight across country to drive his daughter home, or smaller, a call at the end of the day to check on something important.  He is a truly amazing man and I am so blessed to call him Dad.

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It’s a Physical Thing

I recently had a conversation with a dear friend of mine, that is really sticking with me.  This amazing woman, and truly she is, just became a grandma.  How great is that?  It’s wonderful and fulfilling and something that she has always wanted, but something isn’t right.  Her baby, and her grand-baby are thousands of miles away.  It happens.  She thought she was prepared and was ready to catch a flight, but as things happen, the baby arrived early.  Grandma can’t go just yet-even though she wants to.  In fact, a part of her is already there.  I am sure just as much as her soul is longing to be with them, their souls collectively are reaching for her too.

I promise I am going somewhere with this.

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I miss my mom.  I think of her everyday.  My daughter went through a little something when she was young and it was very hard on me.  I called my mom, just to talk.  She called me back only a few minutes later to tell me that she was on her way to my house.  After urging her that she didn’t need to come she said to me, “I know you are okay, I hear you, but I need to see you both, with my own eyes, and be able to feel you.”  It’s a physical thing.  It wasn’t enough for her to just hear from me that we were okay, and we were, but she needed to physically see us with her own eyes for her to feel at peace.

I hear all the time that our loved ones that have passed on are with us.  I believe they are and even had my own experience with John Edwards the psychic Medium, but for me, it just isn’t enough most days.  It’s a physical thing and I just need to see her, to feel her.  I know she is “in a better place” and “no longer suffering” but those are for her-her blessings, they just aren’t mine.  When I was the daughter about to have a grand-baby, I really needed my mom-and she couldn’t be there for me as I needed her to be.  I felt (and still do) that empty physical space, a black hole in my galaxy.

I am learning so much as a mother, I find that there are many times that I just need to sneak in and check on my babies so that I can physically see that they are okay, just like my mom.  At the end of a difficult day, I want nothing more than to just see my husband so we can check in, to know he is okay and safe.  A phone call would work, but there is so much more face to face.

When there is so much distance between you and the ones you love, does your soul feel truly at peace?  For love becomes a physical connection, even more than just a longing. I believe this.  I am not looking forward to the day when my previous soul tenants find themselves venturing further into the world. I will miss them. I know it already.  What’s a mother to do?  I guess I know…I get in the car and I drive there, so I can see with my own two eyes that all is well (at least when I can).  After all, it’s a physical thing.

For now, I will treasure, the best that I can, the moments I share with others.  The connections and the time I get to spend face to face.  I will take pictures and create memories hoping to hang on, just a little longer.  I need to fill my physical well, taking in others presence without loosing the connection by always filling it with words.  Time is so short.

As for my friend.  That plane will get you there faster than a bike, but your soul is going without you.  You’ll make it-hang in there!

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My Ten Moods, Oh, and Then There Is Me

It has been said that women are moody, inconsistent, and certainly hard to read.  I have taken classes and read many books on the differences between men and women.  I have seen countless ideas and suggestions on how to better communicate and improve relationships.  Much of them, I have found to be useful.  Why is it then, that we as women are built this way?   Why am I so moody?  Why can’t I just make up my mind and stick with it?

I think I figured it out, well maybe…

The decision to be a stay at home mom was a very difficult one for me.  I loved my job.  I loved the people that I worked with and I loved challenging myself.  I loved my children more.  I found myself at work, wanting to be home.  Needing to see their faces and know what they were doing.  I felt displaced.  So, my husband and I decided to take the jump and this is where I found that moodiness, can actually be a gift, dare I say, my survival. Luckily for me, he supports and understands me-no matter what.

Within a day I have found myself trying to walk just four steps across the kitchen, but failing to do so because of the small paperweight perfectly placed between my legs wrapping his chubby little meat clamps around my thighs.  I have had to end a telephone conversation due to incessant crying of a tired baby or the ever present full fist shoved carelessly in my mouth(and down my shirt).  I have had to peak out of the shower to put shoes on a doll, and been woken up 13 (+) times in one night because of a scary dream about a skeleton.  I need a break.  I need some time to myself.  My husband offers that I go and do, and how do I respond…”It’s okay.”  Why?  Because even though I am about to pull the hair right out of my head, I love these sidekicks so much that even when I am away for just 2 minutes, the silence about chokes me.

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I lost a dear friend recently.  It made me sad for him, but the thing about loss, it also brings back every other loss that you have had and I couldn’t help but think of my mom.  I miss her so much.  The news came in the middle of the day.  Just me and the sidekicks at home.  I shed some tears and was encouraged by my sidekick number 1.  She sings a pretty good “be happy” song, and then hands me a Barbie to play.  I’m breaking on the inside, but this sweet little angelic soul just makes me the happiest mom in the whole world and I am overwhelmed with being blessed too. I feel them both, at the same time, and equally.

Cleaning the house often consists of  sweep, sweep, “stay away from the doggie door,” sweep sweep, “oh no, not another spilled cup -stay off of the counters,” sweep sweep and so I find that at the end of the day, I am proud that I was able to sweep the whole floor, (even if the first half probably needs to be done again).  It is an accomplishment.  Go me!  I had a shower, I swept the floor, and the kids are alive-I am the best mom in the whole wide world!!  (someday’s that’s about it).  Compare that to my previous job where I was accomplished, awarded, successful, and really felt that I mattered everyday.  I may not even remember some of the techniques I once used when I finally return to work outside of the house.  I traded all that for my sweeping success?  Yes, yes I did, and I would do it all over again for those sweet smiles and “I love you”‘s, but I still miss it and sometimes want that too.

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I have to be moody, because I am full of emotions.  100 different emotions battling inside me at any given moment.  I need this ability.  I need to be able to feel everything or I am afraid I would crumble.  This is the gift of a woman.  The gift of a mother.  It is the reason that I am able to hold a crying baby in the middle of the night, covered in puke or diarrhea and think-“Thank you, God, for this blessing that is mine.”  It is the only way that I spend 24 hours in a day in only the company of two sidekicks under 5 and say, “Please, bless them with safety that I can do this all over again tomorrow.”  It’s the only way I can get up on only 4 hours of sleep and still smile and say, “Where’s my kiss princess, and I love my little man,” and mean it.

I have to be moody.  I have to change my mind, because I am choosing someone else (my family) over my needs, and I want to, but sometimes it is a battle.   By choosing their needs, they become mine.  I am changing.  I am so much more now, because of them and the choices I have made.  If I didn’t have the ability to do this, inside of me, pre-wired, I wonder if I would have been able to make these decisions.  Would I be good at this new job?

All at the same time: I want them to grow to be respectful, kind, and happy, but I want them to stay my tiny little kids too.  I want them to learn to sleep through the night on their own, but I want them to still run to me when they have a nightmare.  I want to take a weekend and get some peace and quiet, but I don’t want to miss a single important thing-like tucking them in at night. I want to read my own book, but I also want to see their faces when I tell them a story about a Llama. I want to still learn and grow and achieve, but I want to be the one to see them reach their next milestone. I am battling every day.

I am embracing my gifts and talents in very unique ways.  I am seeing how things that once were a hindrance can play a role in my life.  I am realizing more every day, as I watch the perfect souls of my children, how we are made, just…..as……we…..should…..be.  I AM WOMAN (WO-MOM), HEAR ME ROAR!

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Remembering Who We Are

One of my very cute cousins inspired me today. She is darling, with an infectious laugh and tons of personality.  She also loves dragons-so what’s not to love about this lady.  Ms. Dragoness herself recently completed this beautiful work of Art.

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Isn’t it Lovely!

So is she, and whats so great about this painting is that she just decided to start doing it again.  I for one am so very glad that she did.  Like me, she remembered something that she once loved doing.  She got so busy working and being a totally amazing mom, that she forgot to make time to keep her art alive.

It was so hard for me to get out there.  Hard for me to say, I wrote this, and I hope to get it published one day.  What if I don’t.  What if I told all of these people about something I wanted to do, and I fail?  I worry about this all the time,  but thanks to Ms. Dragoness, I am reminded that I am writing because I love it.  It was something that mattered to me once, and still does.  It has become an outlet for me in so many ways.  I have also been able to meet great people and even make attempts to open some doors for others in the process.  Maybe, even if I don’t get where I want to go with my writing, there is something more in store for me.

Ms. Dragoness, you are an example to me.  Reminding me that we always need to find time to do the things we love, to share our inner creativity.  I challenge each one of you to remember something that you …once loved to do, that you haven’t done in a while: sports, writing, reading, painting, or music…anything… just see how it makes you feel.  Let me know how it goes!  I hope you find that it is just as much fun as you remember it being.

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Gay marriage? It’s just marriage!

I really don’t like PRIDE parades. I don’t think I will ever attend one with my children. I do support public and group social movements, and in standing up for ones beliefs and rights.  I just don’t support flaunting.  There is a difference.

But don’t hate me yet, keep reading.

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For many who know me, you know this already, for those who don’t….I will do nearly anything for the people in my life that matter to me.  I have long friendships with amazing people and will go out of my way to help others-sometimes at my own expense.  So, in this, it is difficult for me to just keep quiet about my personal thoughts and feelings in relation to the legalization of gay marriage.

I love my husband.  He is my best friend, and I cannot imagine my life without him.  If I were told that I could not marry him, I can only imagine the steps that I would take to have that right.  I also know, that even if I was told I could not marry him, I would still be with him forever.

I also believe in the constitution and the laws of the land passed down from the leaders before my time.  I too believe in and support some of the changes that have happened in our history, such as: gender equality and the elimination of racial segregation.  I do not believe that changes should happen quickly and easily (or for every long fight), but this battle, about the right to marry, has been one long and ongoing battle that in most states has found justification of legalization.

There are many who have made the decision to be together, even without the right to marry.  They have chosen to have children and make a life together.  They are making it work, and I think doing a pretty good job.  There are also those who aren’t doing so well, but I have seen that in traditional married couples as well.  It’s happening, whether it’s legal or not, it is already a part of our society.  Families exist with parents of the same gender.  I support love, I support the family.  Historically, the legal aspects of marriage have changed many times, remember the arranged marriages of our past, or polygamy….hmmm…I sure am thankful that we fought and considered what was best for our society even when it meant pulling religious institutions along.

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I watch the actions of others, and often wish that a very large mirror existed to reflect that person back upon themselves.  Maybe, we wouldn’t have so many people judging and protesting the right to love one another, and just maybe, there would be more open and honest acceptance of others all around.  By showing compassion, you are not changing your own belief system, you are not backing down from what you believe, but instead, you are growing.   Can’t we just be kind to one another?  Standing up for what we believe, in a manner that represents us as a loving and tolerant person instead of vocally tearing others down because they don’t feel the way we do.

The open and blaring attacks against members of our community hurts us all.  It’s true, I said I didn’t like the PRIDE parade, but this only happens once a year.  I would equally dislike a parade based upon the traditional partnership if one were to exist.  I don’t love public displays of affection, or outrageous behavior on either side, truly.  I hope for a community of equality, of kindness, and of love, because I myself don’t always exist within the “norms” of society and I hope that I can always still matter and have my own voice.

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Plugging In

There are so many posts and so many articles on the use of the “handheld computers” we so love and how they make us miss out on life-that really, just make me feel crummy.  I myself recently was informed, “No texting while playing Barbies.” Touche little one, this is not the proper way to train a sidekick.   Along with my other many shortcomings, my phone may be one of them.  I am also, though, trying to find the good in all things, or maybe just justifying my actions.  I loose my phone at least ten times a day, I know this, because I am looking for it.  Why then do I still have it, well it is just this.

It’s a connection that I have to world.

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I just moved to a new place.  I don’t live near my family or friends (but working at making some new ones), and I am not employed out of the home.  I love my sidekicks.  They are my whole world, but sometimes I need a little something more. I need to keep learning and growing too, so I look to others in my life for that.  I need inspiration and motivation and I have many people in my life that help provide that for me.  I think I am pretty good at face to face conversation and can still hold my own.  I am not out at lunch in a restaurant, ignoring my family while on my phone, but I realize that I have learned new skills and new conversation options by “plugging in”. Again-a belief in all things in ration.

With my business background I understand the importance of global conversation and how the world is changing-technology skills are important too.  Historically, I talked with extended family, once a year at our family reunion, but now, I get to see new babies, and new jobs with the click of a button.

So I agree to disagree a little here, I will put down my phone while playing barbies, but I will probably check in on people a couple of times a day, because being honest with myself about my limitations makes me feel better.  I don’t feel like a failure if I set realistic expectations.  By not comparing myself to others and just doing the best I can everyday I think I will grow, and hopefully get better at this training thing. Maybe this post should really be about self expectations, and not my phone, but I digress.

(I sure hope my phone and I don’t get struck by lightning–okay, not really but I thought this picture was neat)

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photo by: David Blaikie

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A Quarter and a Penny in my Pocket

In the past three years, I don’t think I have passed a fountain without being asked if I had any money we could toss in for a wish, equally, I am pretty sure not a single gumball machine hasn’t been coveted by small eyes.  When possible, we stop for a wish and a bubble, often we are just too busy or I don’t have the required tokens.

I am trying to embrace life, knowing that time is so short, and it is still Ja”nu”ary.  I am also trying to improve my posture (or at least my overall well being) by reducing some of the stress and tension I carry in my shoulders about life.  I can’t think of a better way than throwing pennies in a fountain and blowing then popping bubble gum with my sidekicks.photo (8) Going forward, I will always carry in my pocket a penny and a quarter.  The touch will remind me to embrace life and just breathe!  I will always be ready for the next stipend that a wishing well requires, full of hope, patience, and just a little more calm.

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21 Steps-Chapter 1

The very first manuscript that I finished, I titled, 21 Steps.  It needs work, and I like to think that I have come a very long way.

Update: After planning to share the entire book here on the blog, I have been encouraged by a very wise woman, not to do so. She’s pretty smart, so I think I should listen-however, if you are interested in more, let me know!

21steps

Chapter 1

December 2008
Derrick Sterling sat on the edge of his bed in the middle of the night, knowing that tomorrow he would be in a jail cell and the view would be very different.  The light from the moon cast his shadow onto the floor below him.  His hands, with their long fingers and bluntly cut fingernails, were shaking as he made the loops with the dark gray shoelaces of his running shoes.  He was angry at himself and scared thinking of what had just taken place.  A single tear fell from his left eye and onto his cheek. He quickly wiped it away with his hand.  He knew what he needed to do and nothing was going to stop him this time.  He quietly exited his room and started down the stairs.  He nearly tripped and fell as he stepped over the one step that creaked and nearly missed the step below.  He caught himself against the wall where his elbow banged into the railing that sent a painful sensation up his arm.  He stood quietly hoping that it didn’t wake up his two sleeping sons or his parents who were staying in the nearby guest bedroom, from out of town.  He continued walking to the front door where he stopped and took a deep breath, then let it out, he repeated this over and over. All of the familiar scents of this place filled his nose.  He turned to take one last look at the place that he called home, thinking to himself that he may never see it again.  He took one more deep breath and turned to open the door.

As he opened the door a wave of cool winter air filled the room.  Derrick stepped out into the cold, descended his front steps and then began his journey down the cracked sidewalk, singing in his head “step on a crack and you’ll break your mothers’ back” out of habit, and he placed his left foot right on the center of a large vertical crack in the cement.  He could feel the frozen humidity as it bounced off his nose and teeth.  He was clothed in a worn out black t-shirt, jeans with a hole in the left knee, and pair of running shoes, but even with the frigid temperature he didn’t feel cold.  His eyes were open but his vision was blurred by the tears. He walked along the sidewalk moving away from his home toward the center of town. He couldn’t focus, he felt like he never would be able to again.  He passed a small Gas ‘n’ Go station on the corner of the street and could hear a couple arguing in their car parked by the pump.  The street light was bright as he passed underneath it and he focused on his shadow.  He noticed how dark it was, and how lifeless it seemed.  He thought to himself maybe that was what his soul looked like too, dark and lifeless.  He pushed the thumb nail on his left hand into his index finger just to see if he could feel it.  Maybe if he could just make it hurt enough it would take away the pain he felt inside.  But he pushed enough to break the skin, and he didn’t feel a thing.

He continued to walk, placing one unfocused and clumsy foot in front of the other, looking up at the moon that was a small sliver of light in the constant dark sky.  He couldn’t see very many stars out tonight, so he again focused on the darkness, thinking that maybe it might represent something.  He tripped on a crack in the sidewalk, he tried to steady himself, but fell to his hands and knees.  He tore the knee of his jeans further open, and made a small cut that ran a drip of dark red blood down his leg, but he couldn’t feel it, so he pushed himself up and just kept walking.  He just needed something, wanted something that could make him feel normal again.  Something that could help him sleep at night, help him to trust other people and to trust in himself. He wanted to feel like a normal person, he wanted to be anybody but Derrick Sterling.

He thought back to the last time that he had truly felt happy.  It was in the summer time and he and his family had left town to go camping and fishing.  He and his wife had loaded their two sons into the back seat of their brown station wagon that his mother had given to them after they got married. With his hands on the wheel they had driven over two hours, up the mountain.  His wife sat in the passenger seat her long brown hair covering her shoulders.  She looked so small with her big dark eyes set deeply into her face.  If you didn’t know her, you would think her eyes always looked a little sad, but that’s just how they were and Derrick knew that, and loved that about her.

Their two boys were in the buckled tightly in the back seat of the car.  The baby was sleeping.  His head was rolled to the side and a small drip of drool was running down his check.  His other son was four years old at the time playing with a small blue truck in his lap, using his legs as roads and opening the doors and closing them again.  He was wearing a blue hat with a green truck on the front and his brown curly hair poked out in all directions under the bottom.  He had big dark eyes like his mothers, and they often looked at Derrick like he was the coolest person in the world.  They played games in the car, sang, and his wife read to them. They camped by a small river that cut through the mountains like a snake and when the sun reflected off the surface of the water it caused a sparkle like the surface was covered in diamonds. He remembered his son casting his red snoopy fishing pole into the water and waiting.  He was so impatient at first and wanted to catch one so badly.  He kept asking Derrick if he was doing it right and what he could do to catch one.  After a few times though, and encouraged patience by his father, he brought out his first fish.  Derrick’s wife cheered from the side of the river.  She was holding their other son tightly in her arms and feeding him a bottle.   At that moment he was truly happy, he felt normal, and felt that he had everything.

He snapped back to reality leaving the happy dream behind, and realized that he was not happy, he was not normal and that he needed help.  Picking up his feet again from where they had stopped he continued to walk through the town.  He had to shield his eyes with his hand as a car came down the road pointing their headlights right at him.  It passed by him but Derrick had to wait for his eyes to readjust to the darkness.  He continued on passing by the local grocery store, the clothing store, the pawn shop, and the bakery outlet.  He could see his destination up ahead and he continued to move forward putting one running shoe in front of the other.

The building stood like a castle against the dark sky.  It was white and tall with a domed ceiling and a large staircase escalating up to the front doors.  He took a forced deep breath again and then another one. Derrick began to climb the steps, he could feel his heart racing in his chest and he thought to himself that this was the first time he had been able to feel in so long.  He reached the top of the steps and stopped to stare at the large wood doors before him.  The glass window in the door read “Hanover City Police.” He reached out his hand to the large brass handle.  The handle was cold against his hand and he almost pulled away, but he didn’t.  He knew what he had to do.  He repositioned his hand and pulled open the door.

A wave of warm air passed over him as he stepped into the room.  It was a small entry room that led into a long hall.  There was a small plant in the corner that was turning brown on the end of the leaves and curling over.  Step 1: He moved forward walking on the concrete floor toward the end of the hall.  He could hear his footsteps bouncing off of the walls as he stepped 2, 3, 4, 5, 6…  He could hear his breath slow and deep and could feel the pounding of his heart. For a brief moment,  step 15,  he stopped terrified at the decision he was making.  He wasn’t sure if this was what he should do.  He wasn’t sure if it would really change anything.  He looked back at the door and thought of the reason that he had come.  He thought of his two boys asleep, safe in their beds at home, and the life that they deserved.  He turned back around and continued to step.  He thought about placing one foot in front of the other, and nothing more.

At step 21, the end of the hall was a long desk with a bullet proof window separating the desk from the hallway.  Derrick looked at the desk to see a woman with gray hair pulled up in a bun.  She looked kind, like his grandma, with pudgy cheeks and soft hands.  She looked up at him and Derrick noticed that she had really deep blue eyes and nice teeth.

“Can I help you?” she said.

Derrick took a deep slow breath and looked her right in the eye, “I did it, I killed my wife” he said.

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