Tag Archives: love

Keys

25 Wednesday Jan 2023

Posted by in Non-Fiction, personal

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One year, for Christmas I assume, my mom got my sister and I necklaces. They couldn’t have been very expensive, by any means, definitely less that $100. But my mom never did anything half way.

Her 100% always came in the form of thoughtfulness and care. When giving gifts she put a lot of thought into it, wanting to get someone something that she knew they would love, or that meant a lot.

Now I cannot remember for the life of me what my sister got. But I remember mine was a key. She told his, when she gave them to us (at least she told me), that she picked them out special, and there was a reason she got us what she did.

I asked her why she got me the key and why it was so special. Her answer was super annoying at the time but also very much her. “You’ll know.” She said. “It’ll come to you.”

Now, this was a long time ago, I want to say I wasn’t married yet. But I tend to remember obscure useless things as opposed to important information, so it’s safe to say I’m getting something wrong. But I do remember saying, “well, I do like keys.” And I do.

(There’s a bag of random keys somewhere in my house that happened to be in my husband’s brother’s belongings when he passed. My mother in law gave them to my husband for me and said, “give these to Crystal, she might be able to do something with them.” I actually have ideas.)

Now, not knowing why she choose the key for me bothered me, for years, but not enough for me to stress it. It wasn’t that big of a deal, and I did love the necklace. And my mom.

But through the circumstances of life, one loses things, they go back and forth, and get misplaced, no matter how valuable they are to you. I cannot tell you the last time I saw that necklace. And it’s not been recent. It hurts my soul that I’m missing something from her. But I’m sure she’d understand, she’d lost enough of her own items in her lifetime.

But I recently remembered it. I often do, when keys are involved.

When she died (I’ve always found “passed away” to be an odd saying) we were going through her things, as tradition sees fit. I never understood why it had to be rushed. But one of the things we decided to search through was her jewelry box.

Said jewelry box has its own history. She’d had it for many many years, I believe since she was 16. It’s beautiful and old and full of the most random items, that are NOT jewelry. Except the mood ring.

We went through that box that day, looking at all the little trinkets and knick knacks and items she’d hoarded with the best intentions. Pictures and figurines and pennies. Locks of hair and crumbled four leaf clovers.

All of it has attached memories and stories and lore that will never be shared again, at least not in the most perfect, wonderful way she told it. Memories lost of a lifetime turned to ashes blown in the wind one humid sunny day.

On that jewelry box, whose hinges had been pried off for access previously—I do not know who by, nor whether their intentions were good or bad, there is nothing if monetary value there—is a lock.

The lock is a sturdy one, strong. By a company that I believe no longer exists. The reason the hinges were pried off, was because they couldn’t get to the lock. Now, Mom had lost the key multiple times. Which isn’t hard to believe, knowing her and how long she’d had the jewelry box. There were two keys.

That day, the day she died, and we decided to dig gently through the physical representations of my mother’s youth, reliving the memories of the stories she told about every single item, I somehow became the guardian of one of the keys.

I now keep the key, hanging from a chain, with two cheap mother of pearl style buttons decorating it. I sometimes wear it out and about, and like to imagine that she’s near when I do.

As the years have gone by, as they do in spite of our best wishes, I think of my mom less often, and those thoughts are more often less sad. I’ve had one or two very very brief seconds where I have forgotten, for a glimpse of a moment, that she is gone. And living in the momentary thought, that maybe I could still call her number and tell her, “goodnight, I love you” is pure bliss.

But wearing the key to her jewelry box, and somehow the key to her memories and a key to memories of her and with her, I am reminded of that key necklace. And her reason behind giving it to me.

“You’ll know.” She’d said. “It’ll come to you.”

I am the keeper of a key. Her key. My key.

My world needs you, but you do not need this world. 🔑

Some Realizations

21 Tuesday Jun 2022

Posted by in Non-Fiction, Truth

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Just a personal reminder.

  • Not everyone likes you: you are not everyone’s cup of tea. Despite the ferocity with which you attempt to be who each individual wants you to be, you will never be liked by everyone. You can stop adapting their phrases.
  • People come and go: there won’t always be people to stick around in your life. This is not referencing death. This is: people have their own lives and it won’t include you.
  • Family isn’t always a “be all, end all”: just because there is blood, there is not always bond.
  • You are not “on that level” with anyone: you might think you’re close enough to someone to be on their list of people who need to know things. But you, most likely, are not.
  • You can’t make something out of nothing: if you think you have all the ingredients for something special, you’re probably missing something. And that thing cannot be made without the right ingredients. Friendships, relationships, bread, hopes, dreams. They take work. And sometimes the involvement of another person. Not bread tho. Mmm carbs.
  • You cannot control everything: you can control yourself (mostly. Leg cramps are a bonkers way for your body to tell you you’re not the boss) and sometimes your kid. But there’s a whole mess of people and things in the world that are not under your control. Just sigh and move on.
  • The most important person to love you is you. If you cannot love yourself, how can anyone else?
  • Self care is important: sometimes it’s a good face mask and a warm bath. Sometimes is a cool room, two blankets, and a midday nap. Sometimes it’s a secluded place in the middle of a forest where you can scream your guts out. Take care of yourself, regardless.
  • You are to blame for your mistakes: maybe you made some bad decisions. Like “taking six months off and getting a retail job instead of looking for a teaching job and now your stuck in retail because nothing else pays what you make now, even a job in a school setting”. Or maybe you stole something I guess? Or you decided to impulse buy a truck after getting your hair done because you suddenly had confidence and said truck is slowly deteriorating and you’re stuck with it for four more years? I dunno. But you know who to blame.
  • Find a shining light and hold on to it: perhaps it’s the one thing you love above all else (The Kid), perhaps it’s a hobby that brings you joy, a pet that is always happy to see you. That thing, whatever it may be, can bring you out of a dark day. And it’s a glorious feeling.
  • There is ALWAYS someone who will listen: a close friend, a sister, a stranger on the internet (Put A Finger Down trend on Tick Tack is a perfect example). There will always be someone who will listen. So you don’t always have to horde your problems to yourself. Someone will take your problems from you and give you kindness back. Why the heck do you think I come here?

Over the last month, I’ve had my back go out (basically three times), I’ve had a head cold and laryngitis turn into severe sinus issues, steroid prescribed by a doctor gave me almost constant muscle cramps and pain for three days. I’ve felt like I’m not good enough, fast enough, or doing anything right at work. Not to mention the fact that it’s been impossible to scream-sing to the music in my truck because my voice has been out (listen, it helps me relieve stress ok).

And you can’t forget that TeacherTok (is that a thing) just reminds me of my failures and how badly I still want to teach even though I know I never will. I am slowly coming to that realization.

The Pretend Fantasy Novel is moving so slow, mostly because of everything else draining my battery. I’m exhausted.

And here I am, so tired I’ve got one eye open because the other wants to drift off to Pluto, typing out a “train of thought” blog in order to vent. At 11:00pm.

I come here with my nonsense because (a) I pay for it. But (2) putting it out into the void, even if no one will read it, helps. I’m sharing it with, well, the imaginative friend that’s always there. It’s not just in my head anymore. It’s… somewhere.

There are so many things I could say. But I won’t. Because even if I haven’t had my melatonin, I’m about ready to fall asleep. So goodnight my friends. Until next time. Maybe it’ll be better!

Thanks for reading!

-c

Children Are Too Forgiving.

31 Tuesday May 2022

Posted by in Family, Motherhood, The Kid

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Tonight my child didn’t want to take a bath.

This is not unusual she “hates” it. “I don’t want too!” She says.

So I gave her a warning. “You have until I get this bath run…”

So dad decides to walk in the room. I know full well he ain’t gonna be able to get her to do anything. And then I hear her crying over the sound of water running into the tub.

I go in there and cannot keep a straight face. The Hubs is just sitting in the chair and The Kid is crying in the loveseat. But I can tell (you just can as a parent) that these are not true tears. These are crocodile tears. She’s faking it. She’s getting really good at faking it.

So I straighten my face up, ask her if she’s done. She stops the fake tears, and I have to raise my voice. Not yelling or screaming. But clearly showing her I am the boss, not her.

Eventually she reluctantly comes to the bathroom for the bath. And no time later, she’s back to telling me, “you’re the meat mommy in the whole world.” And “guess whose my favorite in the whole world?” And the ever amazing, “you’re my favorite mommy.”

Kid I’m your only mommy. But I ain’t mad.

She is young yet. Less than ten. She has not been jaded or broken or wounded by the world, or worst of all, a parent. She’s not had her heart truly broken by someone she can trust, someone she loves.

It’ll happen one day. If it is by lort, punish me for eternity because I would never harm that child if I can help it. But if someone else does it they have me to deal with. And my wrath will be mighty.

But seeking vengeance for my baby’s broken heart will not heal it. And one day she will be hurt and she’ll see she cannot be so quick to forgive. Though I wish I could keep her pure and loving and happy for ever.

Love your babies, friends.

And beware the almighty wrath of the momma.

Thanks for reading!

-c

Four years ago today I had already heard the last words my mom ever spoke to me

17 Sunday Apr 2022

Posted by in Family, Non-Fiction

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She told me that I had been her rock. She had been in and out of the hospital for four months and I’d been there for most of it. I was there for her because it made me feel better to be near her when she was sick.

Mostly because out of all four of her kids, I lived the furthest away, and wasn’t able to see her as much as I would have liked.

Those were the last words she said to me. She’ had said them as I left her in the hospital, by herself, hours away from home. I had no idea the next time I saw her she would be in and out of consciousness.

I know those were her last words to be.

It hadn’t occurred to me at the time that they’d be her last. Had I known that’d be the last time I’d hear her voice I wouldn’t have left that room.

Thinking about it now I realize I haven’t grieved for her in a while. Not just felt sad that she’s not here anymore. I do that daily. But really grieved. I remain wrapped up in my own frustration and depression and honestly constant physical pain of some sort.

Oh and mindlessly watching short videos on the internets.

I have a tick tack.

On Tuesday (4/19) it’ll be four years since she died. I have to work that day. It’s my least favorite work day. I hate Tuesdays. I’m sure I’ll be my usual borderline angry but trying to hide it self.

But with a touch of sad.

She would have loved my Kid’s gap-tooth grin. She would have loved watching the grandbabies hunt eggs, and my oldest nephew being a goofball. She would have enjoyed sitting with us outside while the kids played. She would have liked my brother‘a fiancé, I think. I’ve only met her a few times. But mom liked everyone, at least until they did her dirty.

I had no idea that writing a blog post about her would be hard. I’m laying next to my my sleeping Kid, writing this, trying not to cry.

The pain of loss, of losing someone you love so much, it never goes away. It is a wound that never heals. And it can never heal because we keep—whether intentional or not—picking at the scab that covers it. We let it bleed a little.

But I will not lie and say that it doesn’t get a little easier to cope with the pain. Over time, you get used to it. It’s like an uncomfortable buzzing sound coming from your ceiling fan. But you cannot sleep without the cool air so you leave it on. And eventually you forget it.

Or how you can always see your nose, your brain just erases it.

All I know is that every day for the last four years my heart has ached and wished she was still here. Eventually I stopped crying every day. But sometimes I hear a sad song, or watch the video from her surprise 60th Birthday party. And I peel away the scab and let the wound bleed.

Doing so sometimes feels like a little bit of therapy. But then I calm down, dry my eyes. And maybe I should start remembering that I’m her rock. Even if rocks gotta cry.

In Loving Memory. 11/10/1956-04/19/2018

J-JCCJ-CJL-BBG-OGNW-EBX-S

We Love You, Always.

-c

Here’s a list of things everyone needs or wants to hear at some point. There’s at least one thing that everyone might need to hear right now.

07 Tuesday Dec 2021

Posted by in Non-Fiction, Opinion Piece, Random

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  • You’re doing great.
  • I’m proud of you.
  • You are beautiful just the way you are.
  • Do what makes you happy, so long as it isn’t hurting you or anyone else.
  • Love yourself more
  • Take care of your mental health. It’s just as important as your physical health.
  • Hey. Eat that treat. Everything is fine in moderation.
  • “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” Elenor Roosevelt said that.
  • YOU ARE NOT ALONE.
  • Just keep swimming. Dory said that.
  • Don’t impulse buy that thing. ESPECIALLY if it’s over $100. I learned my lesson.
    • Unless you’re filthy rich. You do what you want.
  • TAKE. CARE. OF. YOUR. FEET.
    • don’t question me.
  • Not everyone is going to appreciate your weirdness. Uniqueness. Same difference. But there’s gonna be someone that does.
  • You DO NOT have to be a “Christian” to be a good person. You just gotta wanna.
  • Keep up the good work.
  • Be very careful with credit cards.
    • In fact just don’t get them.
  • Adopt don’t shop.
    • Don’t adopt unless you plan on keeping it for life.
  • Love never dies as long as one person who loves is still alive.
  • I might not know you. But I love you.
    • Unless you’re mean to animals and/or children. Then you get no love from me.
  • “A heart can will never be practical until it can be made unbreakable.”- L Frank Baum said that in The wizard of Oz.
    • But perhaps an unbreakable heart feels less. And what fun would that be?
  • Apple Watch has a tip calculator.
  • A perfect nights sleep is dang near impossible.
    • Nap time is highly encouraged. BUT you might wake up feeling worse.
  • Sometimes crying makes you feel better.
  • do what you love. Unless it’s something like murder. Don’t do that.
  • Spellcheck your tattoos before you get them.
  • Chapstick on paper cuts. Trust me.
  • You will forget the physical pain. You will remember how badly it hurt. But you cannot recall it. Once it’s a memory it doesn’t hurt anymore.
  • Your hard time might feel different to someone else. Don’t judge the way someone reacts to their own situation. We all hurt and heal in different ways. Respect and love go a very long way.

What thing would you share with the world if you could?

Thanks for reading. Hope at least one thing was helpful or made you thing.

-c

Being a Mommy is Hard Work

24 Wednesday Mar 2021

Posted by in Mommy Tells, Motherhood, Non-Fiction

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My Daughter Had a Dental Appointment Today

This was not just your typical run of the mill every six months check up.

About six months ago, I came home from work, and the first thing my child said to me was, “mommy I fell but I’m not crying anymore!” Well that’s great honey.*looks at daddy* what the hell?

Baby daddy/spouse goes on to explain that Child was being her usual self and jumping on her little indoor trampoline (best worst purchase ever) and was told to be careful. Minutes later she fell. It’s been some time so I can’t remember the details but she bruised her chin but otherwise did not complain.

A few days later I was checking her teeth. I’m a paranoid momma and I wanted to a: make sure she didn’t hurt them and b: she was still a member of the no cavity club.

When I looked at her teeth, the first thing I noticed were her two bottom front teeth. They each had a dark line! I thought, “dear lort she’s cracked her two front teeth!”

But upon closer inspection, it turned out to be, I believe, markings left by her trampoline bar, when she fell. She said they didn’t hurt and were fine. So I sighed, “this child gonna kill me.” And I continued inspections.

That’s when we came to the root of the problem (ha). I first thought it was a cavity, as it was dark, and encompassed a large portion of her tooth. But, panic setting in, I used one of my flossers and cleaned it out. She’d eaten a brownie before and that was our fake cavity. The problem was: her tooth, a back tooth, didn’t look quite right.

My first thought was, oh no, my baby has tooth decay.

Good Dental Hygiene Wasn’t a Priority

Growing up in a lower income family? We didn’t have regular dental care. We couldn’t afford for a long time the “extra” insurance that was dental and vision, not until much later.

I remember when we got most of our dental work, was when dad was out of work and we were “on true draw”. Mom utilized that government insurance and took us all to get checked. Lort knew when we’d lose it, or when dad would have a a job, so, get while the getting is good.

It also wasn’t a priority to keep our teeth clean. At a certain age it becomes “if you wanna keep ‘em, you gotta clean ‘em”. I don’t recall a lot of being made to go brush. So as an adult I really want to instill the importance of good dental hygiene in my child.

The Child Grinds

Have you ever met a six year old who grinds their teeth?

Welp. Guess what Dr Dentist notices EVERY TIME?! Yup. Girl grinds her teeth. It’s not as often as it used to be. But it still happens.

So when we showed up for an out of regular schedule visit, I don’t expect him to take one look and say, “oh yeah, it’s where she grinds, she chipped it.”

Dude says what now?

Like, when? Where? Where did it go? Did she swallow it? Why? Huh? Of course my child…

These I didn’t ask. But I did ask, is there any way to stop the grinding? Nope. If she keeps it up into her adult teeth, she’ll need a mouth guard for the night.

The only option was to fix it, until broken tooth leaves and her permanent tooth comes in. With a cap.

Now, girl normally won’t even let them take an X-ray. I knew capping would be a battle.

Today

Today was (supposed to be) the capping. She wasn’t having it from the X-ray to the green table. I admire and praise the dentist and his assistant for attempting but my girl was just a struggle. And it was a traumatizing experience. For both of us! They got far enough to put the material on, but she started to panic.

She has been scheduled for a sedation assisted procedure.

This one time when she wasn’t even walking, she swallowed a dime. She had to be put to sleep and scoped. That was five years ago.

Needless to say, momma is stressed from today and stressed just thinking about what’s to come! Luckily it’s over a month away so I can mentally prepare.

Here’s hoping it all goes smooth.

Thanks for Reading!

-c

She told the assistant that the tooth cleaning stuff tasted like birthday cake and smelled like pickles. What time she wasn’t freaking out, she was being adorable.

A Journey Begins

28 Sunday Feb 2021

Posted by in Family, Non-Fiction, Truth, Uncategorized

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Back Story

I have a complicated relationship with religion. I always have. I’ve said this here before, I’m sure. My parents were never religious, although my mom had her “deep thought” moments. If we went to church as children it was an infrequent occurrence, and I don’t remember my parents being there. So religion was not something part of our upbringing, nor was it something outwardly encouraged.

I grew to question more than believe. There were a lot of things in my life that led me to this, mostly inconsequential to anyone but myself. I question more and more as I get older.

I also don’t hate, judge, or question others in their beliefs. In fact I’m a little bit jealous of their faithfulness and dedication. Unless you’re the faithful for appearance’s sake, but not in your heart.

But I can without a doubt admit that there have been a handful of times I have prayed to God or thrown a thought or hope into the universe and even (lard people don’t come for me) prayed to my mom.

Tonight

Here in good old temperamental Kentucky (the earth lately tbh) it’s been raining cats and dogs and cows and ducks for days now, resulting in dangerous flash flooding and water in the roads.

I drive a little old (literally old) 2007 Chevy Cobalt. Me and that old girl have been through some schtuff, so I ain’t trying to throw hate. But she be light and if you’re not careful and you hit a centimeter of water in the road the wrong way she will fly off into outer space.

“We’ve been through some schtuff .” A thing we’ve been through.

Tonight on the way home from work, the pouring rain reduced visibility to darn near nil, and there was a conservative estimate of an inch or so of water in the road a lot of the way (I might have caused a tidal wave to hit Japan in some places). Needless to say, I was SKURT. It didn’t help that my ARCH NEMISIS THE BIG SANDY RIVER was to my right for 75% of my drive (that’s another blog post).

The point I’m so wordily trying to make here is that I may or may not have verbally dictated a request for leniency in the matter of life or death unto an entity that may or may not be God and/or my mom.

The basis of said request entailed my desire to live for the love of my life: my daughter. Also included was a not-promise-but-an-acknowledgment of my own responsibility in keeping myself alive. I’ve made promises of “I’ll be a better person” or “I’ll pray more” or “I’ll dance naked under the pale moonlight” before and I’m no good at keeping promises. Or dancing. Or nudity. Gross.

But on that long, slow, mentally taxing drive home I kept telling myself and who/whatever was listening that I just wanted to see her face. I mean my husband is cool and all but he knows she’s number one. “Please let me see her face. I need to be alive for her” was my goal.

Now, I know normal people wouldn’t have been afraid for their lives, but I’m not normal, clearly. I also have anxieties and fears that are irrational and I accept them and we’ve bonded. Not really they just won’t leave me alone.

“As I’m writing this it’s still pouring rain AND THERE ARE WEIRD SOUNDS OUTSIDE so, anxiety, clearly here to stay.”

Me, suffering silently 2020-?

As I was saying, I have irrational fears, not excluding the fear of dying in some way related to my car. I said we’ve been through a lot and there’s still more to come.

So I drive home, slowly, and tightly gripping the steering wheel, wanting nothing more to make it home alive to my sweet child. I cannot help but “tell” myself and this mystery audience that I suppose only my heart knows is there, “if you help me make it home safely, I will try to keep my end of the bargain, and continue to live.”

That doesn’t mean I wanted to die, nay. I fear death, heavily. I just wasn’t trying really hard to not die.

I Did Live

Unless I’m writing this in limbo, I clearly made it home to my daughter, whose first words upon seeing me were, “did you bring me something.” I did baby. I did.

Sample image of the thing I brought her.

When I pulled into the driveway and put the Old ‘Balt (that’s a thing I call my car sometimes) in park. I took a deep breath as I waited for the rain to lighten up before I got out. It didn’t.

little wet

By now, hours later, the rain has indeed lightened up, I can barely hear it now, and my tiredness is getting to me. I’ve not stayed up this late in a very long time. But I need to get this all off my chest before I go to sleep. I need to document what happened today, so there’s a least some written record of it.

I WILL Live. Period

I won’t be afraid of my heart exploding, or a heart attack, because I will try in earnest to stop drinking caffeine, my only drug of choice. And I will be able to climb stairs without feeling like death (except for that fear or stairs-you guessed it, another post). I will lose weight, even if I don’t want the flappy skin side affect.

And I will be happier, because I will either find a better job or get back into teaching.

Oh and I will also try to document my “journey” right here. So, y’all get to deal with my bonkers self ALL. OVER. AGAIN. Maybe WEEKLY even!

MWHAHHAHAH!

Thanks for reading!

-c

My kid asked me to tell her about her brain and heart before going to sleep tonight. And she said something about “the little thing in my brain and what it does.” Has she been chipped and is self-aware?

08 Saturday Jun 2019

Posted by in Family, love, Mommy Tells, Motherhood, Non-Fiction

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From the time she was old enough to lift her tiny little hand my daughter had a thing about rubbing people’s noses and faces to fall asleep-especially mine. Now she’s four and a lot stronger and has a habit of pinching my nose closed, and hitting it. Not hard, but noses are tinder.

As hard as we try to break her she still picks her nose and eats it. Gross. I’m afraid she’ll get laughed at one day.

She’s super smart and loves to learn. I blame Daycare and YouTube Kids. I helped a little too. She’s got a good brain and learns fast.

Except for potty training. We’ve had lots of ups and downs. But maybe we will get there. Maybe.

She’s my whole world and I wouldn’t change a single moment with her. Not the poop, the nose slaps. Not the late nights or early mornings. Or those first six months where she barely slept at night and I was *this close* to jumping off a bridge.

I wouldn’t change a thing. I wouldn’t have another either. But I wouldn’t change a thing about the one I got!

-c

The Struggle is Real

01 Saturday Jun 2019

Posted by in Family, love, Non-Fiction, Rant

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I often have days where I want to stop. Stop. Give up. Quit. Throw in the towel, give up my seat. Give away. You know?

Today was one of those days. I didn’t have enough. Enough people, enough money, enough time, enough energy. I felt like I was messing up around every corner. And it was the busiest day. That made everything worse.

I stopped to do something and someone needed me. I had lines I had to shorten, and not enough people to shorten them. Get them down and they filled back up. Thought about doing something that I needed to do, I got pulled away.

I feel like a failure.

I feel like I’ve let everyone down.

Struggle. Struggle. Struggle.

When does it stop? When can I stop?

But now I’m home, two hours after my shift should have ended I’m crawling into bed. Next to my sweet one. My heart. My sunshine. She’s asleep but I can snuggle.

Snuggle snuggle snuggle.

And for a few hours I can pretend all is right with the world.

Because I did something right with her.

“What the Heart Wants” 5

11 Monday Jun 2018

Posted by in Choose Your Adventure, Fiction, Story 1

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Click the image to go back to links page

Once inside Eliza and Joanna both marveled at the interior, quite a bit different than their own home. Ornately decorated, the Perry’s home was indeed much fancier. Joanna openly admired the home, and stared wide eyed at the chandelier, “Oh!” She said. “That’s beautiful.”

“It is quite nice, isn’t it?” Mr. Perry asked. He smiled down at Joanna, who nodded in agreement.

“You do have a lovely home,” Eliza agreed.

“Thank you,” he responded, smiling at her.

She smiled back at him, and allowed herself to be led into the parlor.

In the parlor she saw a man and woman, and a girl about Joanna’s age. “Joanna,” Mr. Perry addressed her sister.

“This is my sister, Penelope.” He gestured to the dark haired girl.

Joanna looked at Eliza for direction. “Go on, say hello,” she suggested. She walked shyly over and sat down next to her.

“Eliza, these are my parents, Robert and Lilith.”

Robert Perry stood and offered his hand to shake. “It’s nice to finally meet you, though I feel like I know you already.

Your father spoke of you both a great deal.”

Eliza couldn’t recall a time when he’d spoke of Mr. Perry at all, so she wondered about the opportunity for him to speak to Mr. Perry. She was still shocked the two men ever had a relationship. The younger Perry cleared his throat next to her.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Perry.” She turned to Mrs. Perry, “and lovely to meet you as well.”

“The same,” Mrs. Perry replied with a small nod. She seemed disinterested in Eliza.

“Yes, well, we’re just waiting on one last guest.” Randall said.

Almost on cue, there was a knock at the door, and moments later Aunt Clara and her husband Harris were being

announced at the doorway. Eliza watched as her aunt’s face fell at the sight of her and Joanna.

Eliza started to speak to her aunt, but was interrupted. It was as if Lilith Perry had been risen from the dead. “Oh my dear, Clara!” She exclaimed. “How lovely to see you!” She seemed to leap up from her seat to great Aunt Clara with open arms. Clara smiled smugly in Eliza’s direction, as if she were teasing her, trying to make her jealous.

Once the women were done embracing, Aunt Clara openly acknowledged her niece. “Eliza, dear,” she said, “I didn’t know you were invited.”

“Oh, did Mr. Perry not inform you when yesterday afternoon?” Eliza asked. “He invited me right after I spoke to you.” She smiled kindly at Mr. Perry for effect.

“He did not,” Clara replied. She glanced at him herself. “But this will make for a lovely dinner, wont it, dear?”

Just then, the butler entered and announced that dinner was ready.

They all filed into the lovely bright dinning room. Eliza noticed that the dinner table wouldn’t even fit through her front door, much less the dinning room in the house. The table itself was beautifully set with expensive china, crystal glasses, and lovely flowers. They were each seated at specific locations, of course Eliza was placed across from her Aunt, but, she felt rather awkward to be seated elbow to elbow with Mr. Perry, the elder. Her uncle, Harris, who rarely spoke, was on her other side.

When everyone was seated, dinner was served, brought out on silver serving dishes by kitchen staff. It smelled lovely and was the best looking meal Eliza had seen in a while. She kept a eye on her sister, to watch her manners. Joanna was the perfect lady, waiting patiently and thanking servers. Aunt Clara said not a word to servers, if you were basing it off her, the didn’t exist.

Once everyone was served, she spoke up. “This looks lovely, Mr and Mrs Perry.” She looked from one end of the table, where Mr. Perry sat, to the opposite end where Lilith sat, and neither had paid her compliment any mind.

After a moment of silence, other than the sound of silverware on china, Randall spoke up. “It does look, lovely, Eliza.

Our cook makes a wonderful roast.”

“My cook in the city makes an amazing roast as well,” Aunt Clara said, smiling at Randall.

“Oh the city,” Lilith cooed longingly. I do miss it so.”

“Are you quite fond of it, Mrs. Perry?” Clara asked.

“Quite. I was born there,” she said. “I only left when I was married.” She stared pointedly at her husband.

“And you’ve never forgiven me for it.” He took a bite without looking from the plate.

Next to Eliza, her usually quite uncle Harris cleared his throat. From Eliza’s point of view, he was stifling a laugh.

“Excuse you, dear.” Aunt Clara said, angrily.

“We’ve never been to the city, Joanna and I.” Eliza smiled at her sister. “I quite like it here.”

“It’s a shame your father never brought you to visit,” Clara said. “You’d quite like it, if you’d had the opportunity.”

“It’s a shame you never came to visit us.” Eliza replied. “Until he passed. I wonder if there’s a connection.”

Everyone was looking at the two of them, and Eliza didn’t mind. After an eternal moment of silence, Randall volunteered to ease tension.

“Father and I have business in the city soon,” He said. “You’d be welcome to join us, I’m sure.”

“I’m sure she’d not enjoy our boring business.” Robert said, seemingly annoyed at his son’s offer.

“Perhaps you can take care of our business and I could introduce her to the city.” Randall suggested. He turned back to Eliza, “I could be your personal tour guide.” He smiled that smile at her.

“Oh, well,” she stuttered. “I don’t know.” She looked around the room at everyone waiting for her answer. Robert’s eyes were squeezed into slits, waiting. Clara’s eyebrow was raised in annoyance. Lilith poked at her food, trying to pretend she didn’t care. Harris just at his food in silence. Joanna, though, looked excited, eyes darting between her sister and Randall.

“It’s a lovely offer, Mr. Perry.”

“Randall, please.”

“Randall. But I would have to think about it. There would be things I’d have to make sure were taken care of, of course.”

“Do think about it, please.” He said. The look in his eyes said he’d really enjoy her company. But she wasn’t sure what that meant for her.

After another awkward silence, Penelope said her first words of dinner. “Is it time for dessert?”

Once dinner and dessert was concluded, Penelope took Joanna to her room to show her around, and the adults retired to the sitting room. The men stood in the corner in discussion, the women sat on cushioned chairs in the opposite of the room enjoying tea. Eliza sat in silence as her aunt and Lilith chatted about the city. She watched the men, their heads to father about some mysterious thing, and wondered what it could be.

Did her father often stand this way, with the Perry men, quietly discussing some secret business? He had never been the quiet whispering type. He was more suited to laughing boisterously, making others laugh with him. And again she wondered what he had to do with the Perrys.

When it was time to go, a sleepy Joanna joined her in the foyer. Penelope hugged her goodbye and invited her back to play. Eliza already liked her better than her mother. Next Lilith stepped up to bid her adieu, taking her hand. “It was lovely to meet you both.” Eliza wasn’t surprised that her goodbye was warmer than her greeting. But when she leaned in to kiss her cheek she whispered in Eliza’s ear. “You’re just another woman to him. He will get bored with you like he does the others.”

The look of shock must have been evident on her face when a few moments later, Randall himself stepped up to escort her to the carriage. “Are you alright?”

She smiled at hm. “Yes thank you.” She said.

“Good,” he smiled at her then gestured to the door, offering his arm once more. He waited until they were down the steps and at the carriage standing in front of Thomas. “Please consider my offer.” He said. “It would be a pleasure.”

She could feel Thomas tense beside her. “I will think about it.”

As seemed to be his way, he took her hand from his arm, and kissed it. He helped Joanna, and then Eliza into the carriage, but did not step away. Eliza watched out the window as he and Thomas stared silently at each other. Finally she cleared her throat. “Good evening, Mr. Perry.” She said. He bowed his head slightly and turned toward the door.

“Thank you, Thomas.” She smiled at him. He returned the smile and climbed in the seat.

By the time they arrived home, Joanna was fast asleep with her head resting on Eliza, who’d barely noticed the ride had ended. Thomas opened the carriage door and saw the sleeping girl, and offered to carry her to her room. “Oh that’s not necessary, Thomas.”

“I know, but she looks so content.” He chuckled and climbed in to retrieve her. Eliza followed close behind, smiling at Joanna’s sleeping face, mouth open wide. A damp spot was forming on Thomas’ shirt. Upstairs Thomas gently laid Joanna on the bed, once Eliza turned down the covers. He tucked her in then stood.

“Sleeping Beauty,” he said. He pushed a blonde curl from Joanna’s eyes.

Eliza walked him back to the door. “I’m sure you have a carriage to return.” She smiled at him.

“Can I ask about Randall Perry’s offer?” He asked bluntly.

“Oh,” she was surprised by his bluntness. “Nothing important,” she said, trying to make it sound light. “He wants to show me the city. I don’t know whether I’ll accept.”

He sighed, seeming relieved. “Right. Good.”

“Good?”

“I just thought,” he paused. “You know how I feel about the Perrys.”

“I do. I don’t know why you feel that way.”

“I have my reasons,” a shadow seemed to pass over his face. Eliza glimpsed it for a moment, then it faded. “I wont presume a right to tell you what decisions to make, but I do hope you trust my opinions.”

“I do, very much Thomas.” She told him, sincerely. “My father trusted you, and I know he never misplaced his trust.”

Thomas looked as if he were about to say something, then thought better of it. “Your father was a good man and I will admire him until my last day.” He told her. You have some of his traits, but it wouldn’t be a terrible thing if you had more than just your mother’s beauty.”

They both quickly realized what he had said, and grew equal amounts embarrassed. She looked down at her hands to distract herself, twisting her gloves into wrinkles. When she looked up he was still looking at her.

She blushed once more. Without a word, he reached up, and brushed away a lock of hair that had fallen in her face.

He let his hand linger on her cheek for a moment. “Eliza,” he whispered, stepping closer.

She looked in his eyes, waiting for what seemed forever, for what she wasn’t sure she wanted to ponder.

“I should go.” He said, removing his hand and stepping away.

“Oh,” she whispered.

“Goodnight, Miss Alcott.” He said. Without looking back up at her, he turned away. He was out the door and to the carriage before she realized.

“Goodnight, Thomas.” She whispered.

She walked upstairs in a daze. Unsure what had just happened, or what had almost happened. Unsure how she felt about any of it. A mix of emotions, shock, excitement, disappointment rushed through her.

So much was happening since her parent’s had died. It felt as if the world had suddenly started spinning faster. So many more questions had suddenly made her once simple life difficult.

Perhaps a trip to the city would do her well. Get away for a time, if only for a day. But with Randall Perry? Someone she was told not to trust?

Exhausted, she crawled into bed and curled up under the covers. He’d be expecting an answer soon, and fell asleep wondering what it would be.