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Why I Write
When I write, I draw on my experiences as a woman with a painful past, a rapturous wife and mother, a world traveler, and a spiritualist. For me, writing is an art form. Like an artist, the work becomes more than I imagined it would be. When I set out to write a story with a particular idea or character in mind, words I cannot claim as my own flow from a magical and mysterious place through me and onto paper. The work takes on a life of its own; it is living art. The process fascinates me, satiates me, and makes my life more meaningful.
Please read my stories! If you would like to offer me feedback on my work, please click here and sign up for a free membership: https://heftynicki.Writing.com
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My 15 For 15 Entries 9/18- 10/2/09 - #668575 added September 20, 2009 at 3:39pm
Restrictions: None
September 20 - Raft
Tess sucked in her breath when the raft guide checked, then tightened, her life vest.
"I'm sorry, is that too tight?" he asked.
"No," she replied too quickly, "it's fine."
In fact, the pressure from the vest pressed on her chest and she we conscious of pain in her right breast. She forced her attention away, and looked up. Steve was smiling at her.
A wry grin pulled at one side of Tess' cheek. "You look goofy in that helmet," she teased.
"And you look scared," Steve joked. "You ready?"
Tess ordered her smile to stay put, and thankfully her facial muscles obeyed. "Let's do this thing!" she shouted. Their friends behind them, Andy and Becky, whooped in unison.
As they walked toward the river with their group, Tess took a moment to thank God for all his blessings. Steve had received the call they'd all been waiting for just before they left for this trip. The doc says he's cancer free. Cancer free. She still couldn't believe it. The past two years had been a frightening nightmare, but they'd gotten through it because they'd made a sacred pact to live their lives. Period. Cancer or no cancer. Andy and Becky had made the pact with them. Looking back, Tess reflected on the past two years.
After Steve's treatments had begun, they'd gotten together at the hospital. Each wrote an adventure they always wanted to take but were too scared -- or broke -- to do it. They put their papers anonymously into a box. Every six months, when Steve was between treatment rounds, they pulled a paper from the box and went. Just went. And lived.
So far they'd scuba dived off Key West. They'd skied at Vale. And today, they were rafting the Colorado River. Today was different though. Today they weren't enjoying a day outside Steve's world of cancer. Today, they were living Steve's world without cancer.
They thought brought tears to Tess' eyes. Steve glanced at her, and his smile faltered.
"What is it, love?"
She gave her head a little shake. Something. "Nothing," she lied. They were next to board the boat. "Here we go!"
As the raft rocked and she sat down hard next to Steve, she realized the last paper in the box was hers. Her sky diving trip. Something she'd always wanted to do. She swiped at a tear that escaped down her cheek. Stop! she thought. Today is for living. Tomorrow I'll tell Steve about the lump.
They pushed off from the bank and started toward the churning river below, Tess whooping as loud as her friends.
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