The door was unlocked and the cottage, although empty, felt smaller, the air, dust mote quiet. You can't prove a negative nor can you find a note not left behind. Trev looked with one eye, the other fixed firmly on guilt, the kind of guilt that wanted to find a note and equally did not. At least he could admit it.
20 comments:
the last time I moved, I had that same feeling after I walked through my old condo for the last time.
like it was smaller.
Meleah, I think a home becomes a house when empty and that emptiness makes everything feel smaller.
Have a great holiday weekend. :-)
I find myself craving a donut...
And all I can see is the hole. :-D
Very cool diagram :) Both visually and in regards to categorization and a very nice touch especially to have the portrait featured. Quite extraordinary just how extensive this one is in comparison to the length of the chapter, which just goes to show that even your shortest have breath and scope and detail.
Words in this touched upon something personal and I'm having trouble separating the two at the current time and so a comment may be influenced by those memories, but regardless of what the content may or may not have been of a note left behind, none speaks volumes too, or at least from where his mind is at at the moment, sensitive to the fact that he has returned to an empty house, sensitive to the aloneness, to being left for all that happened before he ran out. When the crunch came, when Mairi needed him, when Em required something of him, both who have given so much of themselves, or to put it better, two women without whom he, I was going to say he might not be standing where he is at this moment, but there's a greater truth to that than their care and concern and support and love. Rolling the guilt sentence around, I wonder if it is partly being granted the reprieve, the delay to what he feared in coming home, that what he had to say may be too little too late so to speak, the worry that he had that he would not formulate adequately and though he was eager to get there, he may now that he has been granted extra time appreciate it somewhat and if that is the case, that could be the cause of some guilt, but before that possibility, if I am interpreting correctly is the fact that he is thinking about notes at all, that they might have left him one and feeling the emptiness when he saw and knows that they did not leave of their own free will so to speak. Love the psychedelic donut, schweet.
Thank you Sunshine. I do love MindMaps. I find these exercises enlightening, looking at the writing after the writing is done and trying to see what is there, what I've done and just understand it.
I'm also trying to make a conscious effort to get inside the head of the characters, to not lose sight of their individuality, which is in part what is motivating me to take each character and MindMap everything we know about them. The Story has reached a length where I've forgotten stuff and I need to recapture it in order to go deeper and maintain a circle of consistency. I'm both looking forward and dreading the task. :-D
As for Trev, the boy is just having some bad luck. :-D
Mr. Tree,
I just wanted to come by and tell you how much I love and miss you.
And the Story. I miss the Story.
I REALLY miss the Hood.
(Oh baby, do I miss the Hood.)
I don't have a comp right now, I'm just borrowing my bro's for just a bit today.
But, I will be back one day and I will catch up and I cannot wait for that day.
I have butter.
And frozen peas.
:-D
Strumper, always my pleasure to see you stopping by. Nobody comments like you comment and I miss your visits like the stars miss the night sky. :-)
Oh, and I always have butter on hand. :-D
Hi, this is my very first visit to your page and I find it so, so, so, so, utterly Sexy!!! Wow! You are truly excellent!!! I will be coming back!! !Seriously!!
Thanks Crazed. Welcome to DT. Looking forward to seeing you again. :-)
I once wrote a story about a girl who threw a tantrum so violent, her true love was forced to abandon her.
For months, she searched for him, and in this time, she sent him a letter. One day, when she was particularly melancholy, she arrived home and saw a letter in a gold dish on her dresser. She swelled with excitement, positive it was from him.
When she grasped the letter in her hands and turned it over, she was stunned to see that it was her own letter, returned to her.
For some reason, Trev's search reminds me of that moment.
Take care Tree. :)
--snow
Snow, that sounds like a wonderful story. I felt myself pulled in just from your description. Nothing like unrequited love to pull the strings. :-)
Hope you are having a wonderful labor day. Take care my ninja one. :-)
I hope this finds you and yours well. Thinking about your connection to Louisianna? I'll keep your family in my prayers.
Be blessed Tree.
Jen
Thanks Jen. My mom, who lives just southeast of Baton Rouge is fine and so is her house. They are without electricity, but she has a gas generator and fully stocked on all essentials. She did say the wind was the worst she has experienced. Thanks again for remembering and thanks for the prayers.
There are days when all I need is a note.
A note that says something simple.
Something tangible to just carry around with me.
A reminder.
I can admit that that would be really nice.
Snowelf,
I think I need to read your story.
Strumper, a simple note, handwritten, sincere, loving, can turn a bad day into a good day and create a smile inside the heart that did not exist before. Yet, to pick up pen seems as if to pick up a fifty pound weight. Heavy pens. So many heavy pens.
I keep a pile of pens on my table.
One is a Batman pen.
One is from Harrah's.
There are several with skulls on them.
I think more people should have more pens.
I toss a few in my purse when I leave the house, cos I tend to jot a lot of things down when they come to me throughout the day.
I've never understood people who always have to ask for a pen when they need one.
Pens are really important.
I wish people didn't think they were so heavy too.
You rock, Mr. Tree. You rock way hard.
:-D
Strumper, my number one expense at Office Depot is pens. I buy them by the dozen and still never have enough. My favorite pen, at the moment, is Uniball's Signo 207 and my favorite color is red. I can never have enough red pens. Black is my least favorite color. Reminds me of death, of lifelessness and is hard to see when noting in a book.
Rock way hard. I like that. Think I want it on a T-shirt. :-D
WAAAAAY back in High School, I wrote with green ink pens. Thinking it was the same concept as green M&Ms, that green ink was sexier.
Sure wish that it was that easy now to feel sexy! Hah!
Going to read your latest posts.
The power of the light spectrum. :-D
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