Bonus Post!

First, Happy St. Paddy's Day to one and all!  My friend, Mark Koopman's insists this is the correct spelling. He should know, having sprouted from the Emerald Isle as a wee lad himself! If you haven't already, make sure you check out his Blog Hop by clicking on his name above, or in the lower right corner of this page.

 Now - where's that damn thought I wanted to publish? Ach - can't be the Scotch - not this early in the day!

Ah - there it is. So - I was walking the dog this morning (yes, I do occasionally get my butt out of the chair and move about) when a great short-story popped into my head. I haven't written a short in a long, long time. My mother will attest to the fact that I do nothing unless it takes great periods of time and deliberation, but there I go getting off track again.

Anyway - I came home straight away and finished it in under an hour. 2,300 words. I read it to my husband. I read it to myself. I changed one word. ONE WORD. And then I sent it to seven magazines. I was pretty hyped about it. Still am.

Want a teaser? Here ya go. I'll let you know if it gets published. Please, PLEASE tell me what you think!


My husband, Xavi, watches with a frown as I take the leash from the hook and snap it to the dog’s collar. “I’m going for a walk.”
 
“We have to be there at seven.” I follow his eyes to the clock on the stove. Our daughter, Lani, sits at the table, watching us warily.

“It’s only four. I’ll be back in time.”

“You get lost when you walk.”

Lani’s eyebrows shoot to the roof of her brow. “Lost? Mommy, you get lost?”

I laugh. Xavi used to say my laugh was like the sun coming over the horizon in the morning, like the color yellow. Warm and soft, soothing and pure. He used to say it filled his heart with happiness. Now it makes him frown even more.

“Only in my head, Mija. Only in my head,” I smooth the hair on her back. At twenty-three, she’s a thing of beauty.

“Except for one time,” Xavi says, looking at me. The smile is tugging at his mouth again. He can never stay angry.

“Except for one time,” I answer, smiling back. I kiss him softly on the cheek and head out the door with the dog, aching to put miles under my feet.

I think about the one time, as we march up the hill behind the house. The first time, when Xavi and I met. I’ve always walked. Walked for hours, wandering the trails on the mesa where we live. Walked aimlessly, blindly, listening only to the music in my head and seeing only the images in my mind.