YBC storytime - Time for a New Life

It's been a while since I shared a story, mostly because I had writers block.  But a new story has been tickling the back of my brain for a few weeks, so today I start...

Time for a New Life

Chapter 1 - The beginning of the end

butterfly photo

Sitting here at my kitchen table, I watch the dust float in the air, caught shimmering in a beam of sunlight streaming through the window.  Watching them, I wonder, how can such a sunny beautiful day be so full of sadness?  I glance down at the letter in my hand, again, hoping against hope that this time it will say something different.  But it doesn't.   We're losing the house.  Our house.  The dream house that we planned, and designed, and worked so hard for, gone, just like that.  I get up from the table, rinse my coffee cup and place it in the shiny stainless steel dishwasher, and turn to look at my kitchen.  The granite counters, handmade cupboards, custom tile floor.  So much work went into this kitchen, and I don't even cook.  I hear the back door open, and watch my husband of 13 years walk in the house.  I can tell by his face that the news was not good.  "How did it go?" I ask him, but he just grunts and pushes past me and heads to his den.


vintage mini bar

I follow, just in time to see him pour himself a drink from his personal mini-bar he had added to his built in bookshelves.  What a laugh, John doesn't even like to read, yet he filled the shelves with classics.  Just to look like he fit in with the crowd at the office.  I sit next to him on the leather sofa and hand him the letter.  He just glances at it briefly, then lets it fall from his fingers.  I reach for his hand, but he pulls away and tells me to leave him alone.  Inside I'm screaming "I'm tired of being alone", but instead I just stay quiet, and leave the room.  I go to my sitting room, and mindlessly turn on the television.  Sitting in the bay window seat, I let my mind wander....and wonder, how did we ever get here?  John and I don't talk, and the kids?  Well, they just talk back.  I feel tired.  So tired.  But I don't have time to feel sorry for myself, I heard the bus pull up in front of the house, and my children come running up the long driveway.  Laughing and yelling.  Time enough to worry about the house later, now it's time to worry about dinner.



Just like before, stay tuned for a new chapter each week.  And click on the links below the pictures to see the great items I found to include in my story.  See you later...

Be blessed,

Debbi