This online contest is open to resident of the US, Canada and UK. Contestants are required to answer three questions on the novel, The Book of Obeah. Responses to the questions should be sent to Obeahcontest@gmail.com starting on June 10, 2011, and all entries should be received by July 30, 2011. I will select three winners by midnight on that date and notify them via e-mail. Cash prizes will be awarded through Paypal, or if winners prefer, I can arrange to send a money order. Autographed books will be sent to the address of your choice. This contest is not opened to individuals who were involved with the making of the book, to include the publisher and its affiliates, independent editors and marketing consultants.
Please answer these questions:
1 – In The Book of Obeah, Melody met several characters. Which of the characters do you think will follow her into the next book of the series, and why?
2 – Imagine the possibility of The Book of Obeah becoming a feature film. If you were the cast director, who would you cast to play the different roles?
3 – In a few words, tell me how the story should continue. Based on the information you have from the first book, what do you think should happen next?
Prizes will be awarded as such:
- First prize: $100
- Second prize: $75
- Third prize: $50
Three other winners will be awarded honorary mentions on my website, http://www.sandracarringtonsmith.com and they will receive an autographed copy of the novel.
Enter today and let your friends know so that they can also qualify for a chance to win. GOOD LUCK!!!
No purchase is necessary to enter the contest. If you are interested in reading reviews or the synopsis of the novel, please visit http://amzn.to/chhyjA
Showing posts with label Sandra Carrington-Smith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sandra Carrington-Smith. Show all posts
Monday, June 6, 2011
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Tiny Teacher
Alena the goldfish is finally free. On a warm spring evening, as the sweet scent of magnolia drifted in through open windows, and a lone songbird indulged one last melody to end his day, Alena moved on. After living with the burden of a large tumor which had caused her to go blind, her battle was over. This tiny being taught us many lessons during the time we were fortunate to have her with us; for one, she taught us resilience and determination to live in spite of hardhip.
About a year after she came to live with us, we noticed a small bump forming on the right side of her head. The growth became larger as time passed, but Alena seemed unaffected by it – she ate well and loved to swim around the fresh plants and rocks we placed in her aquarium. Then, one day I saw her lying motionless inside a decorative pirate skull, and I assumed she had passed away. When I touched her to remove her from the skull, she squirmed, and my heart rejoiced. It was a short moment of happiness, however, for when I finally got her out from the skull she was stuck into, she was in terrible conditions – trying to break free, she had rubbed off most of her skin and tail, and one of her eyes was bleeding. We thought she was going to die that day, and we did all we could to keep her as comfortable as possible during her transition. To our surprise, Alena survived, and in no time at all her skin and tail were repaired. Unfortunately, the tumor was cut open while she tried to get out of the skull, and from that day on it started growing at greater speed.
Alena lost her sight from the one eye close to the tumor, but she seemed to be doing well otherwise. She lived several more years, apparently unaware of the disease that was slowly destroying her tiny body, but a few weeks ago she became quite lethargic and sat still over top of one of the plants in her aquarium for a few days. Feeling confident that she was losing her battle and was by now in distress, I researched humane ways to euthanize her, but before we could decide on anything, Alena surprised us again by perking back up and acting normal. We felt relieved, and we enjoyed watching her swim around and eat as if nothing had happened.
Sadly, this last period of wellbeing was short lived. A few days ago, Alena began showing signs of distress again, and she refused to eat. Last evening she lay on her side at the bottom of the aquarium, and her small body became still. We waited for a while to make sure she was gone, then we gently scooped her up in a bowl and took her to a pond near our house where we laid her to rest. For most of her life, Alena was trapped in a body that didn’t work well, and her adventures were limited by the enclosure she was living in; now she was free from pain, and she could swim forever in a large pond. We all stood around and said goodbye, as one of my sons gently lay her motionless body in the water. At first, everyone was a bit sad, but grief was quickly replaced with joy, as we embraced the concept that Alena is happier now, and she no longer hurts. We all sat around for a while and talked about her passing. The kids all understood that in cases such as this, death is a portal to better living, and if we love her we have to be relieved and happy for her. Goodbye Alena...swim on, little buddy, and thank you for the silent lessons we will cherish forever.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Thank You So Much!
The past week has been a whirlwind, but rather than feeling turned upside down, I feel absolutely invigorated. I have to believe that Universe knows when it is time for a shuffle, and when you leave yourself open for changes, wonderful things manifest.
A couple of weeks ago, I decided to give something a try – after spending almost three decades doing Tarot readings for friends and family, I thought of spreading my wings to the outside world and I offered a few free sample readings on a handful of websites. The response was almost overwhelming in a good way: People from all parts of the country – and even out of the country – wrote and allowed me the opportunity to read for them. I couldn’t have hoped for a more incredible and validating experience! Being able to connect with folks I have never met, and glimpsing their life stories, was an absolutely mind-blowing gift to me, and I learned a huge lesson from that: If one remains open to divine guidance, energy WILL flow. The feedback I received from the readings was heart-warming, and it certainly built my confidence toward this new venture. Many people I regularly interact with are familiar with my passion for crossroads, and the possibilities for self-awareness they offer. My readings are based on identifying each individual crossroads, and then exploring the pathways that originate from it, so that people can make better choices for themselves. I don’t see readings as a fortune-telling tool, but rather I see them as a way for someone to look deep within and discover blocks they might not be aware of. Right now, I feel that I have taken a new turn at this particular juncture, and I am still busy smelling the flowers on the side of the road. For the last few months, I have felt a strong need to reinvent myself in some way, and although writing still remains my greatest passion, I feel this is the pathway I was meant to take. Thank you so much for all the support!
A couple of weeks ago, I decided to give something a try – after spending almost three decades doing Tarot readings for friends and family, I thought of spreading my wings to the outside world and I offered a few free sample readings on a handful of websites. The response was almost overwhelming in a good way: People from all parts of the country – and even out of the country – wrote and allowed me the opportunity to read for them. I couldn’t have hoped for a more incredible and validating experience! Being able to connect with folks I have never met, and glimpsing their life stories, was an absolutely mind-blowing gift to me, and I learned a huge lesson from that: If one remains open to divine guidance, energy WILL flow. The feedback I received from the readings was heart-warming, and it certainly built my confidence toward this new venture. Many people I regularly interact with are familiar with my passion for crossroads, and the possibilities for self-awareness they offer. My readings are based on identifying each individual crossroads, and then exploring the pathways that originate from it, so that people can make better choices for themselves. I don’t see readings as a fortune-telling tool, but rather I see them as a way for someone to look deep within and discover blocks they might not be aware of. Right now, I feel that I have taken a new turn at this particular juncture, and I am still busy smelling the flowers on the side of the road. For the last few months, I have felt a strong need to reinvent myself in some way, and although writing still remains my greatest passion, I feel this is the pathway I was meant to take. Thank you so much for all the support!
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Boundless Love -- A Short Story
Katie Sandler rubbed her sore wrists and grimaced, as her eyes slowly opened and her senses scrambled to process the place around her. The room smelled slightly moldy, but it looked fairly clean and updated otherwise. It was sparsely furnished and somewhat dark, with high ceilings that conferred an air of antiquity and one of two windows that opened in front of a wall separating two courtyards.
She couldn’t explain the dull pain in both her wrists, and brushed it off as she jumped out of bed and walked briskly to the other window to take in her first impression of the city she was going to call home, at least for some time. The pain had started the moment her plane landed at Louis Armstrong International Airport in New Orleans. Katie blamed it on the weight of her carry-on luggage, though it was totally feasible that it could be caused by arthritis, a disease that had crippled her family for several generations. Surely, the humidity in this place could not be good for anyone suffering from arthritis – the air was wet and hot enough to boil a fly in midair, and Katie was grateful for the air conditioning in her hotel room.
This window overlooked Royal Street, and Katie felt a twinge of excitement at the thought of finally being here. She had always felt an attachment to New Orleans, though she never knew why, since she had no friends or family connections here. She dressed quickly in a pair of jeans shorts and a rust-colored shirt which brought out the gold in her hazel eyes, and flattered her olive complexion and dark curly hair. A touch of brick-colored lipstick and black mascara made her look well groomed without appearing too flashy; at barely five feet of stature and one hundred and five pounds, the last thing she wanted to do was to look like a miniature mask.
The moment she walked out of the hotel she was swallowed by a wave of humid heat, and she was thankful she hadn’t given in to her initial idea of straightening her hair. She still had several hours before going to her job interview, so she decided to pass the morning strolling around and flavoring the city. She was a bit nervous about the interview; though she was excited about this new chapter in her life, she was leaving everything behind -- her family, her old dead-end job, and every shred of security she had ever called her own – for a job taking care of an autistic child in a city at the other end of the country.
Life in New York hadn’t been exactly a fairy tale. The hustle and bustle of daily life had seemed thrilling at first when she moved to Manhattan with her new husband, but had quickly turned sour when he decided to walk out after only a year together, leaving her penniless and pregnant with their first child. She had struggled throughout the first three months of her pregnancy, unsure if she should have an abortion, but then her maternal instinct had taken over and she had chosen to have the baby, who was now ten years old and staying with Katie’s mother until Katie got settled into her new job. Her ex-husband didn’t come back for several years, until a few weeks ago, when he came back to New York with a new wife and a righteous attitude. Though she didn’t want to tell him about Jolene, Rick found out about their daughter on his own, and he was now threatening to sue for custody. Coming to New Orleans was a way to clear her thoughts and to get away from the air of New York which he had made putrid with his return.
The sound of a saxophone dusted her thoughts back to the present moment, and she noticed she had arrived in the center of a square right in front of a museum. It was still fairly early, but she could already see a few performers setting up their place of business for the day. Katie sat on one of the benches for a moment, and couldn’t help but being swept away by the charm of Jackson Square. The whole area was intriguing; the narrow streets laden with wrought-iron balconies adorned with hanging ferns spilled into the square, and the distinct aroma of strong coffee and beignets traveled on a carpet of warm, humid air.
It didn’t take long for Kate to feel exhausted in this type of weather – it was surely going to be a while before she got used to the torrid temperatures of the region.
***
“Come in, Ms. Sandler, please have a seat.”
Katie walked into the community resource office, feeling more as if she had walked into a cloud than into a room. The walls were white-washed and made even brighter by the unshielded sunlight pouring in from the large windows. A large fan whirred overhead, disturbing papers on the desk, and also the few hairs left on the head of her interviewer, a middle-aged man with thick glasses and an average face, his slightly overweight body stuffed into a grey suit that had seen better days.
Katie sat down and waited while the man – Mr. Armand was his name – perused her resume and job application.
“You understand this position will require that you remain with Etienne around the clock, Ms. Sandler. Etienne is autistic and unable to perform any mundane tasks at all. Normally, we would send assistance only for a short period each day, but the family is willing to pay your extended hours, as long as you can be a live-in aid.”
Katie nodded. “I understand, Mr. Armand, and I am perfectly ready for the task. As you can see from my job history, I have worked with autistic children before, and I find them fascinating to deal with.”
“Very well, then. Do you have any questions?”
“I do, actually. I have a ten-year-old daughter who is now staying with my mother in New York, but will be moving back in with me as soon as I get settled. Ms. Bouchard assured me it would be no problem for her to live with me at the house; I would like to confirm that.”
“Ms. Bouchard informed me of your situation, Ms. Sandler, and I checked with the family to make sure they are comfortable with the idea. They have no problem with it, and in fact they feel that it will be good for Etienne to be close to other children his own age. He is also ten years old.”
Katie felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders – the trip had been arranged hurriedly enough that she had not had the time to check back with Ms. Bouchard, the services coordinator. Mr. Armand stood up briskly and walked to a filing cabinet where he picked up a manila folder. “Here is some information about the child. The address is inside the envelope. You are expected tomorrow morning at 8am.”
***
The home was situated on Esplanade Avenue, on the side of the road adjacent to the Quarter and only a half mile walk from the market and the Mississippi river. Though it was close enough to her hotel to walk, she called a cab to help her transport her things. The home was Greek Revival style, and while the front door was only a few feet from the street, Katie detected a large, luscious courtyard in the back as she walked up the narrow pathway to the front porch. A young woman with dark, spaghetti-straight hair and small brown eyes opened the door and introduced herself as Etienne’s aunt.
“You must be Ms. Sandler. Please come in.”
The woman led Katie through a narrow hallway into a spacious and sunny room in the back of the house, where a small child was sitting at a desk furiously scribbling on a piece of white paper with an azure crayon. He didn’t look at Katie as she walked in, so she waited for Ms. Ramon to take the lead.
“This is Etienne, Ms. Sandler. He is mostly unaware of everything and anything. His temper is fairly mild, though he has spells that can be slightly unsettling.”
Katie nodded. Having worked with autistic children before, she was familiar with the characteristic behaviors.
“He loves to color, and we find that coloring calms him down when he is upset. He rarely draws anything that makes any sense, and only fills pages with different hues. In the kitchen you will find a schedule for his meals and a list of any medications he is taking regularly. Now, if you want to follow me, I will show you to your room.”
They went up a straight staircase to the second floor, and Katie was relieved to see that her room had two twin beds. She and her daughter could easily share this room.
“I will have the cab driver bring your things up for you. Is there anything you need, or do you have any questions?”
Katie wanted to ask where Etienne’s parents were, but she hoped to find that information in his case file inside the manila folder. “No, that’s all for now. I am going to go down and introduce myself to Etienne, if that’s okay.”
***
The first few days were a blur. Etienne was a sweet child, but his “spells” -- like his aunt had called them -- were certainly not occasional ones. Maybe because he was trying to adjust to his new caregiver, Etienne had filled a staggering amount of pages with colors of all shades. One of them appeared as shadows overlapping one another, almost depicting a mother and child hugging. Katie wondered what Etienne saw in his world.
Today was Katie’s day off, a Friday, and she decided to stroll to the nearby flea market. By the time she got there, the small market area was filled with vendors and tourists and she was a bit disappointed that most of the merchandise was made in China. In her heart of hearts, Katie had hoped to find something locally made, maybe even a genuine voodoo doll, but unfortunately it didn’t seem to be the right type of market.
She got a cup of coffee from a vendor and walked on, and suddenly she experienced something strange – the market looked different, and her wrists began to throb, but this time the pain wasn’t dull…sharp pangs of pain shot through her arms, her head began to spin, and she fell to her knees. When she looked up, she saw a man ready to strike at her. Her wrists were bound with rope behind her back, and the man slapped her as hard as he could on her left cheek. “Get up, it’s time to go!”
In the distance, she could hear a child cry…
“Are you okay, Miss?”
Katie opened her eyes, and saw a look of concern in the eyes of the man who had come to help her. Her coffee cup lay spilled at her feet, not too far from her purse. A nearby vendor was trying to convince a tourist to buy a Saints shirt.
Katie stood up quickly. “I am sorry…I’m not sure what happened. I felt dizzy and I can’t remember anything else.”
“If it can help,” the man said, “You were screaming at somebody to not take your baby.”
Katie thanked the man and walked away, embarrassed by the scene she had created, but still too confused to notice other vendors looking at her with puzzled looks painted on their faces.
She headed back to the house with a name ringing in the back of her mind…Henri.
Etienne was sitting as his desk as always, his little hands furiously saturating a page with a red crayon. Katie, still shaken by her ordeal, sat down with him and looked at the page. The silhouette of a brown boat seemed to loom on the red horizon.
***
“No! Don’t let him take my baby!!”
Katie looked on helplessly, as the judge banged his gavel and announced the end of the hearing. Her ex-husband had won, and she had lost her daughter. Several people moved around the courtroom like shadows, and she suddenly felt like she couldn’t breathe. She didn’t want to breathe – if they were going to take her child away, she wanted to die.
She sat on the bed, taking a loud drowning breath, and the room felt as if it was closing in around her. Her face was beaded with sweat, and she turned on the light while she still tried to control her breathing. She was relieved to see that she was in her room in New Orleans, not in a courtroom in New York; it was all just a dream, a nightmare to be exact. Katie got out of bed and went to check on Etienne. He was sleeping peacefully, thanks in part to the sleeping medication he had taken the night before. He looked very small in his big bed, and Katie felt a compulsive need to hug him, though she held back not to frighten him.
After checking on Etienne she walked downstairs to get a cup of tea, and carried the steaming cup to the small balcony overlooking the courtyard. The night was still. Even if occasional sounds could be heard in the distance, everything was eerily quiet.
She looked down at her wrists and saw a bruise on the right one – maybe she had fallen against something earlier that day at the market? She softly touched her cheek, and the scene she had witnessed in that strange moment came back. She immediately wanted to fight it and make it go away, but she didn’t. She saw herself being led away by the man who struck her, and forced to get on a boat. As the boat left the shore, she felt the pain of loss. Her child was left behind, taken away from her by someone who couldn’t possibly love him as much as she did. Her little Henri, one of the twins born from her relationship with her master was being claimed by Jacques’ barren wife as her own; he was, after all, very light in complexion, and he greatly favored his father. Though the Code Noir forbade children of slaves to be taken away from their mothers at a young age, the young mistress was unable to bear children, and Jacques needed an heir he could groom as his successor. Elise, his bride, could only accept the baby at her terms, so Marie was sent away, and sold to an American at the market along with her baby daughter, Henri’s sister.
Katie opened her eyes. Tears were streaming down her face, and her body shook with ancient sobs that had been trapped in her soul through incarnations. She knew nothing about Henri, and aside from the painful memory of another life in this very same world, she couldn’t remember anything more. Where did the man take her on that fateful day? And what kind of life did she lead after that? And, most important, why were these memories surfacing now?
***
Today Jolene was coming to New Orleans. Katie had missed her daughter terribly while they were separated, but they were finally going to be together again. She only hoped Jolene and Etienne would strike some semblance of a friendship.
She nervously twirled her hair with her fingers while she waited for the airport personnel to escort her daughter to her, and she broke into a huge smile when she saw Jolene’s face appear through the door of the gate.
They went back in a cab, since Katie didn’t have a car yet, and Katie was happy to see how relaxed Jolene was when she introduced her to Etienne. Her heart smiled.
The next few days, Jolene and Etienne seemed to really bond. Even if his condition prevented Etienne from speaking, Jolene seemed to understand him and know what he needed. Needless to say, Etienne’s family was very happy about the turn of events, and it warmed everyone’s heart to see that Jolene didn’t mind to sit with Etienne and color with him. Meanwhile, Katie had discovered the fate of Etienne’s parents – his father had died in a car wreck, and his mother, already struggling with mental illness prior to the loss of her husband, had completely lost touch with reality, and had been institutionalized after that. Etienne was alone, a prisoner in a special world with no doors.
Katie didn’t have any other memories or nightmares since the day she remembered losing her son Henri, and she was happy about that. She had no idea what it all meant, but she also knew that she was in a different life now, and she needed to remain anchored to this reality; for herself, and for her daughter Jolene.
Then, one morning, Jolene came to her.
“Mom, can I show you something?”
“Sure, Honey, what is it?”
“It’s a drawing Etienne and I made together. I drew it and Etienne colored the picture. What do you think?”
Katie took the paper from Jolene and her heart froze. The paper was folded in two, and each side depicted a different scene: The first scene showed a woman sitting on a boat, staring at the horizon and holding a small girl by the hand; the second one showed a little boy, alone in a pretty room; the little boy’s heart was bleeding, and a circle of dark colors had been traced around him. Henri and Corinne!
Katie felt faint. Her ears started buzzing loudly, and her heart sped out of control. Corinne…that was her daughter’s name…Henri and Corinne had come back as Etienne and Jolene, and they had found each other again across the boundaries of life and death. That was why the two had connected so easily – even Etienne’s autism was not strong enough to break a bond of love between twins.
***
“Katie, please call Rick. He continues to call here, asking to see his daughter. He is threatening legal action.” Katie’s mother sounded panic-stricken on the phone.
“I will, Mom. He really has some nerve banging on the door after so many years and expecting me to believe he turned into a doting father overnight.”
“I don’t think he did, Katie, but that wife of his…he says she can’t have children, and that Jolene is the only child he will ever father.”
Katie’s world stopped for a moment, as she tried to connect the dots. She hadn’t told her mother about her memories that had resurfaced, afraid that her mother would deem her insane, but it all seemed too coincidental. Jacques’ bride had been unable to bear children and she had claimed Marie’s as her own; because of that, Henri and Corinne had been separated, and Henri had lived his life locked into a world of grief from the loss of his mother and sister. Across the centuries, Rick’s wife was also unable to have children and wanted Katie’s daughter! It was all happening again, but this time to the opposite child, as a mirrored reflection of the first trauma.
Katie had to do something. “Give me his number, Mom. I am going to call him right away.”
She hung up the phone and tried to collect her thoughts. This was a different life, and she had many more rights now than she might have had as a slave a few centuries ago; this time she could fight for her children to be together.
Rick picked up at the third ring. “Hello.”
“Hello, Rick, it’s Katie…”
Rick was silent for a moment, then he cleared his throat and answered.
“Hi Katie. I have to say that I am a little surprised by this call.”
“Not as surprised as I am, Rick. And more than being surprised with myself, I am surprised with you, and your ridiculous expectations to take my daughter from me after years you have not even called.”
Rick sighed heavily.
“I am sorry, Katie, but I didn’t even know there was a daughter until I came back and looked you up. I called you at home one day, and your mother answered. She didn’t know it was me, and she said you had gone to pick up your daughter at school. I played along and asked what grade she is in now, pretending I knew of her, and your mother said she is ten years old, Katie. We were together when she was conceived.”
“The fact that you contributed to her existence does not make you her father, Rick.”
“You are right, but I am only asking to see her. I thought of all this, and I am not going to fight for custody. In fact, I don’t even know that Leslie and I will be married for much longer; things are not good. There is little love between us.”
Katie didn’t reply. Her heart had been broken so badly when he left her that she vowed to never leave herself open again.
“I know you got a job transfer, Katie. Could I just come and see you and Jolene?”
“I don’t live alone, Rick. I take care of an autistic boy, and we live in the family home with him.”
“That’s okay, Katie. Just for a day…please don’t say no. I will stay in a hotel nearby, and you can have all the time you need to explain who I am to Jolene.”
“I…Rick…I don’t know…”
“Please, Katie…just one day. For old times’ sake.”
***
The sun was ready to set when Katie, Jolene and Rick met for dinner on Decatur Street. They ate and talked, and though Jolene was probably still a bit confused, she seemed to be at ease and smiled a lot at both of them. After dinner they walked toward Bourbon Street, but Jolene said she was tired and asked to be taken back to the house. Rick asked Katie to walk with him a little longer, so they headed back toward the Quarter for a drink.
When they reached the intersection of Dumaine and Royal, Katie’s heel got stuck on something and she almost fell. Rick caught her. “I won’t let you fall, Marie. Finally our family is together, and no one will ever separate us again.”
Katie looked up in confusion and Rick was no longer there. She was no longer there. Her caramel skin sparkled under the street lanterns while Jacques held her in a starved embrace, and the love in his eyes held the anguish he had suffered through the centuries. “Come, my dear, our carriage is waiting…”
She couldn’t explain the dull pain in both her wrists, and brushed it off as she jumped out of bed and walked briskly to the other window to take in her first impression of the city she was going to call home, at least for some time. The pain had started the moment her plane landed at Louis Armstrong International Airport in New Orleans. Katie blamed it on the weight of her carry-on luggage, though it was totally feasible that it could be caused by arthritis, a disease that had crippled her family for several generations. Surely, the humidity in this place could not be good for anyone suffering from arthritis – the air was wet and hot enough to boil a fly in midair, and Katie was grateful for the air conditioning in her hotel room.
This window overlooked Royal Street, and Katie felt a twinge of excitement at the thought of finally being here. She had always felt an attachment to New Orleans, though she never knew why, since she had no friends or family connections here. She dressed quickly in a pair of jeans shorts and a rust-colored shirt which brought out the gold in her hazel eyes, and flattered her olive complexion and dark curly hair. A touch of brick-colored lipstick and black mascara made her look well groomed without appearing too flashy; at barely five feet of stature and one hundred and five pounds, the last thing she wanted to do was to look like a miniature mask.
The moment she walked out of the hotel she was swallowed by a wave of humid heat, and she was thankful she hadn’t given in to her initial idea of straightening her hair. She still had several hours before going to her job interview, so she decided to pass the morning strolling around and flavoring the city. She was a bit nervous about the interview; though she was excited about this new chapter in her life, she was leaving everything behind -- her family, her old dead-end job, and every shred of security she had ever called her own – for a job taking care of an autistic child in a city at the other end of the country.
Life in New York hadn’t been exactly a fairy tale. The hustle and bustle of daily life had seemed thrilling at first when she moved to Manhattan with her new husband, but had quickly turned sour when he decided to walk out after only a year together, leaving her penniless and pregnant with their first child. She had struggled throughout the first three months of her pregnancy, unsure if she should have an abortion, but then her maternal instinct had taken over and she had chosen to have the baby, who was now ten years old and staying with Katie’s mother until Katie got settled into her new job. Her ex-husband didn’t come back for several years, until a few weeks ago, when he came back to New York with a new wife and a righteous attitude. Though she didn’t want to tell him about Jolene, Rick found out about their daughter on his own, and he was now threatening to sue for custody. Coming to New Orleans was a way to clear her thoughts and to get away from the air of New York which he had made putrid with his return.
The sound of a saxophone dusted her thoughts back to the present moment, and she noticed she had arrived in the center of a square right in front of a museum. It was still fairly early, but she could already see a few performers setting up their place of business for the day. Katie sat on one of the benches for a moment, and couldn’t help but being swept away by the charm of Jackson Square. The whole area was intriguing; the narrow streets laden with wrought-iron balconies adorned with hanging ferns spilled into the square, and the distinct aroma of strong coffee and beignets traveled on a carpet of warm, humid air.
It didn’t take long for Kate to feel exhausted in this type of weather – it was surely going to be a while before she got used to the torrid temperatures of the region.
***
“Come in, Ms. Sandler, please have a seat.”
Katie walked into the community resource office, feeling more as if she had walked into a cloud than into a room. The walls were white-washed and made even brighter by the unshielded sunlight pouring in from the large windows. A large fan whirred overhead, disturbing papers on the desk, and also the few hairs left on the head of her interviewer, a middle-aged man with thick glasses and an average face, his slightly overweight body stuffed into a grey suit that had seen better days.
Katie sat down and waited while the man – Mr. Armand was his name – perused her resume and job application.
“You understand this position will require that you remain with Etienne around the clock, Ms. Sandler. Etienne is autistic and unable to perform any mundane tasks at all. Normally, we would send assistance only for a short period each day, but the family is willing to pay your extended hours, as long as you can be a live-in aid.”
Katie nodded. “I understand, Mr. Armand, and I am perfectly ready for the task. As you can see from my job history, I have worked with autistic children before, and I find them fascinating to deal with.”
“Very well, then. Do you have any questions?”
“I do, actually. I have a ten-year-old daughter who is now staying with my mother in New York, but will be moving back in with me as soon as I get settled. Ms. Bouchard assured me it would be no problem for her to live with me at the house; I would like to confirm that.”
“Ms. Bouchard informed me of your situation, Ms. Sandler, and I checked with the family to make sure they are comfortable with the idea. They have no problem with it, and in fact they feel that it will be good for Etienne to be close to other children his own age. He is also ten years old.”
Katie felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders – the trip had been arranged hurriedly enough that she had not had the time to check back with Ms. Bouchard, the services coordinator. Mr. Armand stood up briskly and walked to a filing cabinet where he picked up a manila folder. “Here is some information about the child. The address is inside the envelope. You are expected tomorrow morning at 8am.”
***
The home was situated on Esplanade Avenue, on the side of the road adjacent to the Quarter and only a half mile walk from the market and the Mississippi river. Though it was close enough to her hotel to walk, she called a cab to help her transport her things. The home was Greek Revival style, and while the front door was only a few feet from the street, Katie detected a large, luscious courtyard in the back as she walked up the narrow pathway to the front porch. A young woman with dark, spaghetti-straight hair and small brown eyes opened the door and introduced herself as Etienne’s aunt.
“You must be Ms. Sandler. Please come in.”
The woman led Katie through a narrow hallway into a spacious and sunny room in the back of the house, where a small child was sitting at a desk furiously scribbling on a piece of white paper with an azure crayon. He didn’t look at Katie as she walked in, so she waited for Ms. Ramon to take the lead.
“This is Etienne, Ms. Sandler. He is mostly unaware of everything and anything. His temper is fairly mild, though he has spells that can be slightly unsettling.”
Katie nodded. Having worked with autistic children before, she was familiar with the characteristic behaviors.
“He loves to color, and we find that coloring calms him down when he is upset. He rarely draws anything that makes any sense, and only fills pages with different hues. In the kitchen you will find a schedule for his meals and a list of any medications he is taking regularly. Now, if you want to follow me, I will show you to your room.”
They went up a straight staircase to the second floor, and Katie was relieved to see that her room had two twin beds. She and her daughter could easily share this room.
“I will have the cab driver bring your things up for you. Is there anything you need, or do you have any questions?”
Katie wanted to ask where Etienne’s parents were, but she hoped to find that information in his case file inside the manila folder. “No, that’s all for now. I am going to go down and introduce myself to Etienne, if that’s okay.”
***
The first few days were a blur. Etienne was a sweet child, but his “spells” -- like his aunt had called them -- were certainly not occasional ones. Maybe because he was trying to adjust to his new caregiver, Etienne had filled a staggering amount of pages with colors of all shades. One of them appeared as shadows overlapping one another, almost depicting a mother and child hugging. Katie wondered what Etienne saw in his world.
Today was Katie’s day off, a Friday, and she decided to stroll to the nearby flea market. By the time she got there, the small market area was filled with vendors and tourists and she was a bit disappointed that most of the merchandise was made in China. In her heart of hearts, Katie had hoped to find something locally made, maybe even a genuine voodoo doll, but unfortunately it didn’t seem to be the right type of market.
She got a cup of coffee from a vendor and walked on, and suddenly she experienced something strange – the market looked different, and her wrists began to throb, but this time the pain wasn’t dull…sharp pangs of pain shot through her arms, her head began to spin, and she fell to her knees. When she looked up, she saw a man ready to strike at her. Her wrists were bound with rope behind her back, and the man slapped her as hard as he could on her left cheek. “Get up, it’s time to go!”
In the distance, she could hear a child cry…
“Are you okay, Miss?”
Katie opened her eyes, and saw a look of concern in the eyes of the man who had come to help her. Her coffee cup lay spilled at her feet, not too far from her purse. A nearby vendor was trying to convince a tourist to buy a Saints shirt.
Katie stood up quickly. “I am sorry…I’m not sure what happened. I felt dizzy and I can’t remember anything else.”
“If it can help,” the man said, “You were screaming at somebody to not take your baby.”
Katie thanked the man and walked away, embarrassed by the scene she had created, but still too confused to notice other vendors looking at her with puzzled looks painted on their faces.
She headed back to the house with a name ringing in the back of her mind…Henri.
Etienne was sitting as his desk as always, his little hands furiously saturating a page with a red crayon. Katie, still shaken by her ordeal, sat down with him and looked at the page. The silhouette of a brown boat seemed to loom on the red horizon.
***
“No! Don’t let him take my baby!!”
Katie looked on helplessly, as the judge banged his gavel and announced the end of the hearing. Her ex-husband had won, and she had lost her daughter. Several people moved around the courtroom like shadows, and she suddenly felt like she couldn’t breathe. She didn’t want to breathe – if they were going to take her child away, she wanted to die.
She sat on the bed, taking a loud drowning breath, and the room felt as if it was closing in around her. Her face was beaded with sweat, and she turned on the light while she still tried to control her breathing. She was relieved to see that she was in her room in New Orleans, not in a courtroom in New York; it was all just a dream, a nightmare to be exact. Katie got out of bed and went to check on Etienne. He was sleeping peacefully, thanks in part to the sleeping medication he had taken the night before. He looked very small in his big bed, and Katie felt a compulsive need to hug him, though she held back not to frighten him.
After checking on Etienne she walked downstairs to get a cup of tea, and carried the steaming cup to the small balcony overlooking the courtyard. The night was still. Even if occasional sounds could be heard in the distance, everything was eerily quiet.
She looked down at her wrists and saw a bruise on the right one – maybe she had fallen against something earlier that day at the market? She softly touched her cheek, and the scene she had witnessed in that strange moment came back. She immediately wanted to fight it and make it go away, but she didn’t. She saw herself being led away by the man who struck her, and forced to get on a boat. As the boat left the shore, she felt the pain of loss. Her child was left behind, taken away from her by someone who couldn’t possibly love him as much as she did. Her little Henri, one of the twins born from her relationship with her master was being claimed by Jacques’ barren wife as her own; he was, after all, very light in complexion, and he greatly favored his father. Though the Code Noir forbade children of slaves to be taken away from their mothers at a young age, the young mistress was unable to bear children, and Jacques needed an heir he could groom as his successor. Elise, his bride, could only accept the baby at her terms, so Marie was sent away, and sold to an American at the market along with her baby daughter, Henri’s sister.
Katie opened her eyes. Tears were streaming down her face, and her body shook with ancient sobs that had been trapped in her soul through incarnations. She knew nothing about Henri, and aside from the painful memory of another life in this very same world, she couldn’t remember anything more. Where did the man take her on that fateful day? And what kind of life did she lead after that? And, most important, why were these memories surfacing now?
***
Today Jolene was coming to New Orleans. Katie had missed her daughter terribly while they were separated, but they were finally going to be together again. She only hoped Jolene and Etienne would strike some semblance of a friendship.
She nervously twirled her hair with her fingers while she waited for the airport personnel to escort her daughter to her, and she broke into a huge smile when she saw Jolene’s face appear through the door of the gate.
They went back in a cab, since Katie didn’t have a car yet, and Katie was happy to see how relaxed Jolene was when she introduced her to Etienne. Her heart smiled.
The next few days, Jolene and Etienne seemed to really bond. Even if his condition prevented Etienne from speaking, Jolene seemed to understand him and know what he needed. Needless to say, Etienne’s family was very happy about the turn of events, and it warmed everyone’s heart to see that Jolene didn’t mind to sit with Etienne and color with him. Meanwhile, Katie had discovered the fate of Etienne’s parents – his father had died in a car wreck, and his mother, already struggling with mental illness prior to the loss of her husband, had completely lost touch with reality, and had been institutionalized after that. Etienne was alone, a prisoner in a special world with no doors.
Katie didn’t have any other memories or nightmares since the day she remembered losing her son Henri, and she was happy about that. She had no idea what it all meant, but she also knew that she was in a different life now, and she needed to remain anchored to this reality; for herself, and for her daughter Jolene.
Then, one morning, Jolene came to her.
“Mom, can I show you something?”
“Sure, Honey, what is it?”
“It’s a drawing Etienne and I made together. I drew it and Etienne colored the picture. What do you think?”
Katie took the paper from Jolene and her heart froze. The paper was folded in two, and each side depicted a different scene: The first scene showed a woman sitting on a boat, staring at the horizon and holding a small girl by the hand; the second one showed a little boy, alone in a pretty room; the little boy’s heart was bleeding, and a circle of dark colors had been traced around him. Henri and Corinne!
Katie felt faint. Her ears started buzzing loudly, and her heart sped out of control. Corinne…that was her daughter’s name…Henri and Corinne had come back as Etienne and Jolene, and they had found each other again across the boundaries of life and death. That was why the two had connected so easily – even Etienne’s autism was not strong enough to break a bond of love between twins.
***
“Katie, please call Rick. He continues to call here, asking to see his daughter. He is threatening legal action.” Katie’s mother sounded panic-stricken on the phone.
“I will, Mom. He really has some nerve banging on the door after so many years and expecting me to believe he turned into a doting father overnight.”
“I don’t think he did, Katie, but that wife of his…he says she can’t have children, and that Jolene is the only child he will ever father.”
Katie’s world stopped for a moment, as she tried to connect the dots. She hadn’t told her mother about her memories that had resurfaced, afraid that her mother would deem her insane, but it all seemed too coincidental. Jacques’ bride had been unable to bear children and she had claimed Marie’s as her own; because of that, Henri and Corinne had been separated, and Henri had lived his life locked into a world of grief from the loss of his mother and sister. Across the centuries, Rick’s wife was also unable to have children and wanted Katie’s daughter! It was all happening again, but this time to the opposite child, as a mirrored reflection of the first trauma.
Katie had to do something. “Give me his number, Mom. I am going to call him right away.”
She hung up the phone and tried to collect her thoughts. This was a different life, and she had many more rights now than she might have had as a slave a few centuries ago; this time she could fight for her children to be together.
Rick picked up at the third ring. “Hello.”
“Hello, Rick, it’s Katie…”
Rick was silent for a moment, then he cleared his throat and answered.
“Hi Katie. I have to say that I am a little surprised by this call.”
“Not as surprised as I am, Rick. And more than being surprised with myself, I am surprised with you, and your ridiculous expectations to take my daughter from me after years you have not even called.”
Rick sighed heavily.
“I am sorry, Katie, but I didn’t even know there was a daughter until I came back and looked you up. I called you at home one day, and your mother answered. She didn’t know it was me, and she said you had gone to pick up your daughter at school. I played along and asked what grade she is in now, pretending I knew of her, and your mother said she is ten years old, Katie. We were together when she was conceived.”
“The fact that you contributed to her existence does not make you her father, Rick.”
“You are right, but I am only asking to see her. I thought of all this, and I am not going to fight for custody. In fact, I don’t even know that Leslie and I will be married for much longer; things are not good. There is little love between us.”
Katie didn’t reply. Her heart had been broken so badly when he left her that she vowed to never leave herself open again.
“I know you got a job transfer, Katie. Could I just come and see you and Jolene?”
“I don’t live alone, Rick. I take care of an autistic boy, and we live in the family home with him.”
“That’s okay, Katie. Just for a day…please don’t say no. I will stay in a hotel nearby, and you can have all the time you need to explain who I am to Jolene.”
“I…Rick…I don’t know…”
“Please, Katie…just one day. For old times’ sake.”
***
The sun was ready to set when Katie, Jolene and Rick met for dinner on Decatur Street. They ate and talked, and though Jolene was probably still a bit confused, she seemed to be at ease and smiled a lot at both of them. After dinner they walked toward Bourbon Street, but Jolene said she was tired and asked to be taken back to the house. Rick asked Katie to walk with him a little longer, so they headed back toward the Quarter for a drink.
When they reached the intersection of Dumaine and Royal, Katie’s heel got stuck on something and she almost fell. Rick caught her. “I won’t let you fall, Marie. Finally our family is together, and no one will ever separate us again.”
Katie looked up in confusion and Rick was no longer there. She was no longer there. Her caramel skin sparkled under the street lanterns while Jacques held her in a starved embrace, and the love in his eyes held the anguish he had suffered through the centuries. “Come, my dear, our carriage is waiting…”
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
International Book Award Winner!
I found this out last night, and maybe I shouldn't even say anything, since results won't be announced until next week at Book Expo of America in NYC, but I am so excited I think I will fly away if I don't share...
The Book of Obeah won the International Book Award in the multicultural fiction category!!!
And, if I wasn't already happy enough, I found out Housekeeping for the Soul was a finalist in the nonfiction inspirational category!
I am SO happy right now, I could scream!!! I just had to share...:-)
Monday, May 3, 2010
Book Signing
This month my first two literary children are going to be born. Though I often joke around about giving birth to twins, the two couldn’t be any more different in nature. The first one, Housekeeping for the Soul, a nonfiction guide to self-renewal, is written in the same voice as my blog posts, while the second one, The Book of Obeah, is a novel of paranormal suspense.Since many of you have been following this journey from the start and have asked to be notified when the ‘big day’ would finally come, I am happy and proud to announce (seriously, I am floating about an inch over the floor even as I write this) the official birth of the first twin, Housekeeping for the Soul.
The sweet bundle of joy is due to see the light of the world next Saturday, May 8 between 1:00 pm and 3:00 pm at the Barnes & Noble at The Streets at Southpoint in Durham, NC.
Though it is not officially released, I just found out this morning that the second twin, The Book of Obeah, is already stocked at the warehouse as well. It is probably not going to be on the shelves yet, but if you are coming, and you are interested in getting a copy ahead of the official release date, please do call the store a few days prior to the event, and they will have it there waiting for you when you arrive.
Thank you so much for your ongoing support, everybody, and I hope to see many of you next Saturday afternoon.
Blessings,
Sandra
www.sandracarringtonsmith.com
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Spiritual Essence and Lifestyle Fair this Saturday!
The Spiritual Essence and Lifestyle Fair will be held on Saturday, April 17th from 10:00 am until 6:00 pm, at the Martin Building at the State Fair Grounds, 1025 Blue Ridge Rd. in Raleigh. The Martin building is the first building on the right when you enter gate 9 off Trinity Road. Admission is $5.00, and children under 10 and seniors enter free.
I will be there bright and early to sign books, including pre-publication copies of The Book of Obeah. I hope to see you there!
Sunday, February 14, 2010
From the Words of a Gypsy: My Love Story
If I look back, and rewind the movie of my life long enough to glimpse at the last twenty years or so, I can see that my marriage was in the cards since before I met my husband, or, even better, it was mapped on the lines of my hand. Odd thing to say, you think? Well, listen to my story, and you might agree with me.
On a cold winter morning, a few weeks shy of Christmas 1986, I skipped school with a friend, and we went to hang out at Piazza Dei Miracoli, near the Leaning Tower. Bored as we were, we scanned the crowd of tourists brave enough to defy the weather in favor of snapping a few pictures, until we noticed an old woman, clad in traditional gipsy clothes, who asked if we were interested in having our palms read. We giggled and agreed.
The woman took my hand, and studied it for a few moments, then lifted her deep chocolate brown eyes to meet mine. “You are getting ready to go on a trip” she said “which will redirect the path you will follow”. Since I was preparing to go to London for the Christmas holidays, my attention was immediately piqued. “When you get back, you will be so enthusiastic from your vacation that you will seek ways to go back. A few months later, you will meet a man, you will marry him and will travel far together, and to see your family again you will embark on a long, long trip”.
After reading my friend’s palm the woman left without even collecting the few coins we had for her, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her words. To the ears of a dreamy teenager they went beyond the notes of a sweet melody, and I began to fantasize about this Mr. Wonderful who would allegedly sweep me off to a faraway land.
Months went by. I went on my trip and fell in love with London; deep down, I secretly hoped to be able to move there some day. That summer, my parents went to a different beach establishment than the one they normally went to, and I noticed it was right beside a morsel of beach owned by the American base in Tirrenia.
It wasn’t long – as I lay on the shore sunbathing – until I noticed a very handsome lifeguard staring in my direction. He nodded when he saw me looking back, and soon the smiles began. Still nursing my dream of moving to London, I jumped at the chance to practice my English, and after gathering all the courage I had, I went to the snack bar of the American establishment to get a soda.
My handsome lifeguard was there. So was the beach doggie, Boo-Boo. I leaned down to pad him, and the lifeguard smiled at me. I smiled back. He gave Boo-Boo most of the ham in his sandwich – a gesture that certainly earned him several points in my book. We began to talk, half broken English and half broker Italian. By the time I left, he had asked me on a date.
We went on our first date on June 16 1987, the night of celebration for St. Ranieri, the patron of Pisa. We watched fireworks and had pizza, and finally sealed that magical evening with a kiss. We continued to date until John left Italy in March 1988; I followed him a few months later in November 1988.
That day was a bittersweet one for me – I was following the love of my life, yet I was saying goodbye to all I had loved and held dear until then. That was twenty years ago - John and I will celebrate our twenty-first wedding anniversary this spring. As a couple we have encountered some hard moments, but have conquered each stone and moved forward together. The old gypsy’s prediction still lives on.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Birthday Reflections
Somebody had observed that they would like to read something about me and what I have accomplished, rather than always reading the stories I write about community and others.
I figured this would be a day as good as any others; maybe better, even, since today is my birthday. Yep, I am a ripe 39 today, and totally happy with it.
Really, there is not much about my life.
I moved to the States from Italy in November 1988 following a puppy love, and Raleigh has since been my home. My husband was in the military in Pisa, Italy, when we met.
I suppose language was my greatest challenge. When I met John (my husband) at the beach, I had bought a cassette course in English, and worked my behind off to learn as much as I could so that we could communicate.
When we got married and I moved here it was yet more challenging. The language learned on cassettes and the colorful spoken treasure of the south were two beasts unknown to each other.
Yet, I was determined. I read everything I could get my hands on, and tried to talk to as many people as possible, even making a fool of myself at times, when they could not understand me, or I couldn't understand them.
Since I left Italy right after High School, I decided to attend NC State. At the time, I also had to work full time, to make ends meet, so those years were so busy that they are almost blurred in my mind.
John and I worked and saved. We bought a small house, had one child. Then, we started a business, bought a bigger house and had two more children.
Meanwhile, I spent my free (few!) hours writing. Writing had always been my innermost passion from the heart, but I didn't feel confident enough to really go public with it yet.
As my kids got a bit older, I found I had more time on my hands; the business was pretty settled, my husband always at work, and my children always busy.
So, I wrote a novel. Just for fun. Just to pass time. When it was completed I let a few friends read it and they liked it. They suggested I try to publish it but I waved them off.
By then, however, they had planted the seed. I started thinking about publishing my work, and began looking for a literary agent. I was rejected more times than I care to count, mostly because I had no other writing credit, so even then, I have to credit my stubborness for continuing.
Finally, in May of this year I signed up with a literary agent.
By then I had two books under my belt, so we began working together toward finalizing both projects.
Both books were just announced yesterday on Publishers Markeplace, and also sent to several publishers, so now I am obviously keeping my fingers and toes crossed!
I guess that's all there is to me.
On a more personal note, I was raised in an average family, and everyone has always been very supportive of me. I grew up in a very spiritual environment, and most of the rules I live by today are the very same rules I learned when I was a child. I try to live my life in peace, respecting myself and others. That said, I have had challenges just like everyone else, but my deep spiritual faith has been the glue which has always kept me together.
Today, my time is shared between raising my children, who are now 13, 10 and almost 4, writing, talking to people about spiritual stuff, and helping my husband out in his business from time to time.
So, this is my life. It is not glamorous, or anything special to the eyes of the world, but it's a life that has been good to me, and I am thankful every time I open my eyes to a new day.
I figured this would be a day as good as any others; maybe better, even, since today is my birthday. Yep, I am a ripe 39 today, and totally happy with it.
Really, there is not much about my life.
I moved to the States from Italy in November 1988 following a puppy love, and Raleigh has since been my home. My husband was in the military in Pisa, Italy, when we met.
I suppose language was my greatest challenge. When I met John (my husband) at the beach, I had bought a cassette course in English, and worked my behind off to learn as much as I could so that we could communicate.
When we got married and I moved here it was yet more challenging. The language learned on cassettes and the colorful spoken treasure of the south were two beasts unknown to each other.
Yet, I was determined. I read everything I could get my hands on, and tried to talk to as many people as possible, even making a fool of myself at times, when they could not understand me, or I couldn't understand them.
Since I left Italy right after High School, I decided to attend NC State. At the time, I also had to work full time, to make ends meet, so those years were so busy that they are almost blurred in my mind.
John and I worked and saved. We bought a small house, had one child. Then, we started a business, bought a bigger house and had two more children.
Meanwhile, I spent my free (few!) hours writing. Writing had always been my innermost passion from the heart, but I didn't feel confident enough to really go public with it yet.
As my kids got a bit older, I found I had more time on my hands; the business was pretty settled, my husband always at work, and my children always busy.
So, I wrote a novel. Just for fun. Just to pass time. When it was completed I let a few friends read it and they liked it. They suggested I try to publish it but I waved them off.
By then, however, they had planted the seed. I started thinking about publishing my work, and began looking for a literary agent. I was rejected more times than I care to count, mostly because I had no other writing credit, so even then, I have to credit my stubborness for continuing.
Finally, in May of this year I signed up with a literary agent.
By then I had two books under my belt, so we began working together toward finalizing both projects.
Both books were just announced yesterday on Publishers Markeplace, and also sent to several publishers, so now I am obviously keeping my fingers and toes crossed!
I guess that's all there is to me.
On a more personal note, I was raised in an average family, and everyone has always been very supportive of me. I grew up in a very spiritual environment, and most of the rules I live by today are the very same rules I learned when I was a child. I try to live my life in peace, respecting myself and others. That said, I have had challenges just like everyone else, but my deep spiritual faith has been the glue which has always kept me together.
Today, my time is shared between raising my children, who are now 13, 10 and almost 4, writing, talking to people about spiritual stuff, and helping my husband out in his business from time to time.
So, this is my life. It is not glamorous, or anything special to the eyes of the world, but it's a life that has been good to me, and I am thankful every time I open my eyes to a new day.
Monday, August 4, 2008
The Gift of Now
In “Journey to Ixtlan", Carlos Castaneda writes about the Angel of Death as being always present near one’s left shoulder. If one turns fast enough, Castaneda writes, it is possible to catch a glimpse of the Angel, and remember to live every moment fully because it could be our last.
This past week, my friend Connie had a chance to come face to face with her own mortality. After becoming very ill because of an untreated kidney infection, she was taken to the hospital, and immediately admitted. For a few days, her doctors struggled to keep the infection under control, and her condition seemed to deteriorate by the minute.
Saying that Connie was terrified is a serious understatement. She knew her body was shutting down, and everything she had taken for granted was quickly spiraling out of control. Connie thought she was going to die.
When I spoke with her, the first words out of her mouth were about her children. She was afraid of how they would cope if something happened to her, and also realized how much she missed simply having them around. She talked of the times she got angry with them over trivial things, when she could have instead told them how much she loved them.
Having three children myself, I totally understand the frustrations of parenting. Yet, Connie’s ordeal seriously made me think.
What if something was to happen to me, and I wasn’t able to connect to all the people I love or respect before leaving this earthly plane? Would they know how much I care about them? If I was to die tomorrow, would it really matter that my three-year-old daughter flooded the bathroom today, or that my husband didn’t throw his dirty socks in the hamper this morning?
We spend such a large portion of our lives worrying about things that don’t matter, that we lose focus of what is truly important. We hold grudges against people we love over unimportant matters, and never think that we may not have another chance to make amends.
After talking to Connie, I thought about my own family, my children, my parents who live far away. I realized that many times I hang up the phone without telling my husband that I love him, I choose housework over going to the park with my children, I forget to call my parents and friends because I am too busy. I never think that those simple actions could be the last chance I have to let them know how I feel. If something suddenly happened to me – or them – those perfect opportunities would be lost forever.
We are programmed to allow life's circumstances to take over, to focus on making the next dollar as if it is the last chance we have to become rich, and we forget that it is up to us to appreciate each moment and the subtle blessings that surround us at all times. The dishes will still be there the next day, and the paperwork will be waiting for us when we get back, but will our loved ones be there tomorrow? Or even later today?
Each moment of our lives that is not fully appreciated is a moment we have wasted; it's a gift we have not accepted; it's an opportunity that may be lost forever.
This past week, my friend Connie had a chance to come face to face with her own mortality. After becoming very ill because of an untreated kidney infection, she was taken to the hospital, and immediately admitted. For a few days, her doctors struggled to keep the infection under control, and her condition seemed to deteriorate by the minute.
Saying that Connie was terrified is a serious understatement. She knew her body was shutting down, and everything she had taken for granted was quickly spiraling out of control. Connie thought she was going to die.
When I spoke with her, the first words out of her mouth were about her children. She was afraid of how they would cope if something happened to her, and also realized how much she missed simply having them around. She talked of the times she got angry with them over trivial things, when she could have instead told them how much she loved them.
Having three children myself, I totally understand the frustrations of parenting. Yet, Connie’s ordeal seriously made me think.
What if something was to happen to me, and I wasn’t able to connect to all the people I love or respect before leaving this earthly plane? Would they know how much I care about them? If I was to die tomorrow, would it really matter that my three-year-old daughter flooded the bathroom today, or that my husband didn’t throw his dirty socks in the hamper this morning?
We spend such a large portion of our lives worrying about things that don’t matter, that we lose focus of what is truly important. We hold grudges against people we love over unimportant matters, and never think that we may not have another chance to make amends.
After talking to Connie, I thought about my own family, my children, my parents who live far away. I realized that many times I hang up the phone without telling my husband that I love him, I choose housework over going to the park with my children, I forget to call my parents and friends because I am too busy. I never think that those simple actions could be the last chance I have to let them know how I feel. If something suddenly happened to me – or them – those perfect opportunities would be lost forever.
We are programmed to allow life's circumstances to take over, to focus on making the next dollar as if it is the last chance we have to become rich, and we forget that it is up to us to appreciate each moment and the subtle blessings that surround us at all times. The dishes will still be there the next day, and the paperwork will be waiting for us when we get back, but will our loved ones be there tomorrow? Or even later today?
Each moment of our lives that is not fully appreciated is a moment we have wasted; it's a gift we have not accepted; it's an opportunity that may be lost forever.
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