A few weeks after the funeral, she went back to the house where she grew up to sort through her mother’s things to ready the house for sale. Her mother was a shy woman who lived a quiet sheltered life with no secrets or great passion. Looking at the few things her mother kept in the trunk in her bedroom she was surprised and wistfully smiled; her shy and quiet mama did have passion in her life and maybe more than a few secrets.
We are so far apart and if I could fly on eagle’s wings over the ocean to be with you again I would though our families would keep us always strangers never lovers. Oh, my Love, how I long to see you, hear you whisper my name, feel your arms around me and your lips on mine. But all I can do is write in my diary and hope for the day when I am free of this prison where my father keeps me hidden from you and the world.
When he grew up and moved here, something he never wanted to do, he accepted that there were things and friends that he would never see again. Wondrous things and friends from where he came from and had to leave behind because they did not and truly could not live in this real world he now called home. But here she is with something important to say to him and if Tinkerbelle can survive long enough in this place she will.
He was a tall dark handsome gypsy, a heartbreaker with a wicked smile and a wild laugh. He loved his life traveling where and when he wanted in his tiny caravan with no ties to bind him or worries to keep him awake. All that changed when he looked into the green eyes of a most beautiful witch and was forever lost in her spell.
She had been working on the project for days and all she had to show for all the hours was a lot of colored paper, cut and folded and strewn across the table. Looking at the table she thought it looked like her life; she had the imagination and ability to finish but she was tired of the work and life with little desire to continue with either. Both were a mess and she wanted them over and done with, however, there was the possibility that tomorrow would be better so she went back to the table and began again.
As they were walking through the old house they just bought their, fourteen-year-old son let out a whoop and shouted, “Hey Mom, know how you are always saying my room is a dirty mess and I should clean it more often? Well, by the looks of it whoever lived here before didn’t clean very often either, like maybe never. Come see what I found in the back bedroom closet!”