Sheila Rambles

For a full minute, I swear we could not speak.  Recognition lit up on both of our faces and all we could do was laugh.  We embraced as if long parted, rather than meeting for the very first time.  Words had abandoned us both and our actions and laughter spoke for us instead.  You are here.  You are real.  You are flesh and bone and more than all the words and photographs we ever shared on paper and on screens.  And yet I know you.  Finally she said, with a shy smile, the first word ever uttered between us: “Hello!”

Please excuse Sheila from working on her novel today as her morning writing session was consumed by recounting the events of the past weekend, her day was consumed by a full eight hours of work and her evening was consumed by a homeowner's association meeting.  These three events have drained too much of her mental energy to do much more than dither on the Internet until bed.  Thank you.

When I am a very old woman, I shall wear red with a hat that matches perfectly. Should anyone object I’ll gladly switch to a black one, since black matches everything  and looks damn fabulous doing it. My pension will be spent on bourbon  and silk shirts  and I will still have money for butter. I have no sobriety of youth to make up for— I who talk to the moon, and dance in the rain. When I am a very old woman  I will tend my own garden,  pick my own flowers,  and let my neighbors  keep their own.