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- Sweetness...
Sweetness...
fiction, and life
Hello friends,
Well, I’ve had a rough week. My physical therapy—and now speech therapy—is kicking my brain’s ass. But… Despite my frustrations at this progress that feels more like a set-back, I feel grateful. Why? I keep looking for sweetness, and am finding ways to breath that in.
I have support from friends and family.
There are blueberries in the ‘fridge.
The mama chickadee is nesting happily.
People are reading books I’ve written.
The mornings in Portland are cool, the air feel fresh and clean.
I can re-center into the things that give me joy.
How about you? How is your week? And what is sweet in your life right now?
Continuing with the theme of sweetness, I stretched myself to write a simple, sweet, romance story. It’s not my usual fare, but I hope you like it. Here’s how it starts:
Jacaranda breathed in the scent of her namesake tree. It was in its rare second bloom, just in time for the start of school and the long slide into Los Angeles fall. In Grandpa’s day, the second bloom was a regular occurrence.
“But the greedy bastardos have ruined our water and the air. The trees only bloom once a year now.”
Except for his tree. The one in front of the tidy, two story Craftsman bungalow in the heart of old LA.
The heavy front door of Purple Blossom B&B was open, letting in an errant breeze, tinged with diesel exhaust from the 101. Jacaranda looked up from her work to watch cascade of flower petals, falling to the sidewalk out front, where they would be crushed to purple smears by every footfall of people heading to the panederias, the butchers, and all the other, brightly painted shops of Olvera Street, or heading down to the Chinese American Museum.
She loved the history of the neighborhood. She just hoped her little slice of it could be saved. Nothing in Los Angeles was cheap anymore, and investors sniffed around every few months or so. So far, Jacaranda couldn’t bear to sell. Besides, someone had to take care of the tree. Right?
The scent of the tree had been her grandfather’s favorite smell in all the world. And she was his favorite grand daughter.
Wishing you all the best, whatever your week brings.
blessings - Thorn
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