Death Arrests

Death

Arrests

One

He has died. She has passed on. He has gone to be with Jesus. It doesn’t matter how you say it. The news has such finality that one must pause. Separation between you and the one you know, the one you love is irreversible.  Depending upon how close you were to the one who is no longer with you, you stop for awhile (hours, days, weeks months) and take account of what is lost. 

No one is perfect. By the same token no one is all bad. Those redeeming qualities of the person who died will no longer be experienced by you. There is no hope that you will delight in that person’s joys. All you have left is memories. 

How long you stop to savour those good memories, how long your life is arrested to recall what you have lost, depends upon how closely you were tied to the deceased.  In some cases, people take a leave of absence from work. Some even quit work. Life’s duties can force a refocus. Still special occasions spent with the now deceased can cause a pause, special times like their birthday or the times you spent making a meal or going to football games. Another one’s death forces one to stop and acknowledge loss.

Death or a sudden loss occurs many times in my novel, Baggage burdens.At times the loss is shocking. Reaction is the first priority. Whatever is happening is set aside as is the case when Joseph’s dog, Butch, died. Even Joseph’s friend, Thomas, quits working on rebuilding the garage to comfort Joseph. 

News that Jill’s mother died is unexpected. The loss forces Jill to hurry away from the friends that she is visiting. Memories of her mother’s love flood back even though Jill had some misgivings about her mother. 

Jill ran away from her loving grandmother. That separation caused Jill grief. She missed her grandmother dearly. She stopped what she was doing and thought of her often. But like a death it was something that she thought was irreversible.

Julie looks at Jill. She reaches out for her aunt’s hand and holds it in hers. “The reason your grandmother hired the detective was to let you know your mother was very ill.” Julie lets the information sink in before continuing. “You see,” she pauses. “Your mother had cancer.”

Jill’s arm jerks back as if a mousetrap snapped. She runs outside through a blur of tears. She barely makes it out to her car. Images of her mother combing her hair as she sat on the stool, her mother telling her how beautiful she looked, her mother rushing Jill off to her room when her intoxicated father destroyed the peace flash by.

Jill envisions the detective’s search as her mother’s voice calling for help, a call she ignored. Blame for abandoning her mother threatens to suck her into the ground like quicksand.

After a moment’s delay, Ann and Julie race after Jill. Once outside, Julie touches Ann’s shoulder, slowing her down. 

“I think the rest of the story I have she should hear in private. It may help calm her down,” says Julie. 

As she approaches Jill, Julie lets her feet scrape the cement pad to announce her arrival. After standing near Jill for a few minutes, listening to her trying to control her sobbing, Julie puts her arm around Jill’s shoulders and holds her. 

“Josey wants you to know that your mother wasn’t alone when she passed away.” 

Jill looks at Julie. 

“Josey and your sister were by her bedside,” continues Julie.

“Kathy?” whispers Jill. She bursts into a fresh flow of tears. I completely forgot about her.

Julie holds Jill in her arms. In a whisper, she continues. “Yes, the detective located her about a month before your mother died.” After a while, Julie adds, “Your father was by her bedside too. He was sober. Josey said he’d been sober for several months. It was hard to believe, she said. He’d quit drinking when he heard about your mother’s illness, almost as if he thought Alice wouldn’t die as long as he stayed away from alcohol. At least that is what Josey thought. When your mom died, he took it very hard. Josey felt sorry for him.”  

Haiku capsule:

Someone special dies

Drop everything. Remember.     

Now–– just memories.

Next Blog: 

Sacrificing––

a Sign of Love

Building Relationships

Food and 

Building          Relationships

Building or strengthening relationships presumes a connection already. A good way I have found to grow an appreciation for each other is by coupling it with a time together with food.   Taking someone out for lunch or dinner is an attractive offer, especially if the treat is on you. Sometimes just going out for a cup of coffee (or tea for those who prefer it) and having a donut works––Tim Hortons here I come. Even if the price of the outing is shared there is still a good benefit––talk about food is a safe ice-breaking topic. When there is a sensitive topic (personal, or private) to be discussed the public arena motivates a more control response for most people. 

Preparing a meal is even better. The time spent making the dinner is an indication of the extent that the host wants to really draw them together. The only action that surpasses making the meal is when it is done together. Working co-operatively over a couple of hours leaves more time to share with each other, to just joke around. This is a cement that church and community groups find when they work together to provide a meal for others. A team mentality forms. Appreciation for each other develops.

While kiss-and-make-up may sound like a more enjoyable way to mend strained relationships the idea of meeting together over food of some sort is a frequently strategy that I have used in my novel, Baggage burdens. At times, to build trust in each other, two people might meet over food and drink. A favorite example of using this technique takes place in the bakery where Jill works. Her employer, Mary, asks Jill after the store closes to sit down and enjoy a cup of tea. Pastry accompanies their drink as does talk about the customers that came in that day, a safe topic. While many times it may seem like Mary ‘s coaching Jill to know her clients better, often Mary shares secret information about her customers too. It’s sign she trusts Jill. It becomes a time they both treasure. It also opens the door to share personal experiences. 

Is it wise to bring up a sensitive issue when eating out? Joseph tests this strategy when he questions Jill about why she doesn’t trust Rebecca, a good neighbor and friend. He waits until the waitress serves their dessert, and he’s paid for the meal. From the last extract below you decide if it worked.

Mary hangs up the Closed sign. Joseph catches the hint. With a wave to Mary, he turns to Jill and says, “Maybe next weekend you and I will go to Mirror Lake for a while.” 

“I’ll think about it,” mouths Jill, as she leads him to the door. The bells above the door sing out, and the shop closes for the day. Mary sets the teacups out for their usual day’s wrap-up. Two large peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies centerpiece a small paper plate. 

“So, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think Ben has a little competition. Yes, definitely a little competition.” Mary points to Joseph as he drives away.

“He’s just a nice guy. That’s all,” disclaims Jill with a wave of her hand. She nibbles at her cookie.

“Oh, come on. A strong, well-built man like that. His long blonde hair is always clean and combed. That’s a good sign. And you know, he owns a pretty good chunk land southeast of Camrose.”

“Okay, so he’s attractive, and he has land, but there’s nothing between us.”

Mary waits for three weeks, hoping Jill will share what happened when she went to Mirror Lake with Joseph. After Jill locks the door of the shop at the end of a normal Saturday and they sit down for their late afternoon tea and brownies, Mary asks, “Are you ever going to tell me about your date with Joseph? 

“First of all, it wasn’t a date.”

“Whatever.” Mary waves off the distinction.

“We had a good time.” The silence tells Jill Mary is expecting more, so Jill reports what she learned about Joseph and his background. She doesn’t mention Joseph’s fear of not finding a girl to marry.

“You going to go out with him again?” Mary leans closer as if expecting Jill to whisper her plans.

In a mood to tease, Jill nibbles her brownie before answering. “If he asks.”

“You mean when he asks,” corrects Mary confidently.

“You seem very sure.”

“I am.”

“Because?”

“He as much as told me so.”

Jill smiles.

When the waitress returns, Joseph signs the bill. Once the server leaves, Joseph thinks, Now. Shouldn’t have any interruptions. He hopes Jill will not erupt in anger and storm out of the restaurant.

“Jill, remember a little earlier you asked if something is wrong?” 

Jill nods before she takes a sip of her tea. 

“Well, something has been concerning me.” He waits until she finishes the cake in her mouth. “Why have you been avoiding Rebecca? Did she say or do something wrong?” 

“No. I just don’t want to have anything to do with her anymore.”

Her calm response encourages Joseph to pursue the matter. “It’s surprising. When you returned from the hospital, she visited you every time I went to the market. Then all of sudden she’s not welcome at Daniel’s birthday, at our Thanksgiving dinner, at our wedding anniversary, and at your birthday.”

Jill interrupts. “I just don’t want to be around her anymore. Is there anything wrong with that?” A note of annoyance creeps into Jill’s response. 

“If she’s done something wrong, I know she’d like to make it up to you.”

“Look, she didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Her stern response cautions Joseph, but he feels he can’t quit. Bringing up this topic was hard enough. “Then what?”

Jill’s face turns red. “Do you really want to know what the problem is?”

Jill’s voice forces him to glance around the half-full restaurant. Turning to Jill, he firmly answers yes.

Jill leans forward and whispers. “When I am with her, I feel like a moron. Are you satisfied?”

The revelation catches Joseph off guard. He debates pushing any further. Taking her whispered response and her leaning forward as a sign that she doesn’t want to make a scene, he continues. “No. I don’t understand why a person who’s been so supportive …”

“That’s exactly why,” interrupts Jill. “She so good at everything. She’s such a good friend, such a good hostess, such a good cook, and such a good mother. I can’t compete. I can’t even come close.” 

“You don’t have to compete …”

Jill glances around the room to see if her raised voice is attracting attention. “Can we leave now?” Without waiting for an answer, she puts on her scarf and overcoat. 

Joseph scrambles to keep up with her. By the time he grabs his coat and the birthday cake, Jill is halfway to the door. As they reach the truck, he catches up to her. She opens the door for herself. No words are spoken on the brisk walk to the truck or as he drives out of town.

Haiku capsule:

Chat over some tea

Add peanut butter cookies

A friendship bond builds

Next Blog: 

Death Arrests One

Food

Favorite Place

Favorite  Place

Do you have a favorite place that you like to go to? No. I’m not talking about for holidays. A favorite place locally that you go to as often as you like.  Maybe it’s a particular restaurant, a bar, a room on campus or a window overlooking an attractive sight. Such places often afford a sense of joy, comfort or relaxation, maybe even safety or privacy. 

What are the appealing features of this place? Is it a place of action, laughter, loud music that fills you with excitement? Is it a place of silence creating a calming effect for reflection? Perhaps your special place is one of memories of an event, a pet or a person, one who is no longer with you. A place in nature where one experiences peace and order is a blessing for rural residents. 

Spending time in such stress-relieving places provides time for recovery. In writing a narrative it is a technique to break from a struggle, an opportunity to recognize that the world or the times is not completely crazy, that life really is good. 

In mynovel, Baggage burdens.Joseph and his children have such place. It’s a place away from fields and work, from the household chores. For them it’s a private place where they talk about personal interests. It’s a place under aspens and willows near a stream where water giggles as it jumps down from a ledge three-feet high, a place where fish too small to be caught swim safely and a rabbit hops out into the sun, munches on some blades of grass and hops away as if no one was there. What a relaxing place to contemplate responses to challenges! 

When one shares results of a demanding decision a reader knows that stress is no longer unavoidable. Trauma has invaded what should have been a safe sanctuary.

“Daniel. Care to go horseback riding?”

“Sorry, Dad. I was about to leave to see Eve.”

As Daniel walks out of the house, Joseph follows him.

“How about you split the evening, part with me and part with Eve?” 

Puzzled by Joseph’s unusual persistence, Daniel stops and looks at his dad. “Something wrong?”

“We need to talk.” 

“Our usual place?” asks Daniel as they enter the corral where the horses are penned. 

“Yeah.”

Their destination is three large boulders near a stream at the far end of Joseph’s land. Daniel chooses it because it’s on his way to Eve’s place. Joseph likes it because there is a little waterfall no more than three feet high. He loves the sound of trickling water, and there is no sign of roads or buildings. If he had a tough decision to make, he’d ride out here and pray. When he leaves, he always feels at peace, even if a solution escapes him. 

Once they ride out of the yard, Daniel says, “Race?”

Joseph nods. They both shoot off. 

“Ah,come on!” Daniel arrives two horse lengths ahead of his father. 

Joseph usually wins. 

“You hardly tried tonight.” 

“Maybe I’m distracted.” 

“Right,” responds Daniel in disbelief.

“Or you’re becoming a better rider.” Joseph hopes winning tonight might put Daniel in a happier mood. 

They both let their horses nibble at the long grass in the midst of the aspens and willows. Once they take their usual seats on the rocks, Daniel begins, “Shoot. What’s up?” 

“In a big hurry to see Eve?” Joseph grins.

Daniel smiles and nods.

Joseph takes a deep breath. “Your mom and I have been talking about moving into Camrose.” 

“What!” Daniel cuts in. The unrestrained emotional reaction matches Joseph’s expectation. Before Joseph can repeat his statement, an irritated Daniel says, “Hold it. Hold it. It’s not you and Mom. It’s Mom, isn’t it? Honestly?”

Haiku capsule:

A place for you and me,

Intimate conversations

Vault of our secrets

Next Blog: Food and Building Relationships

PASSIONS

Passions

What is your passion, that something you can’t wait to get back to, that something that so occupies you that time ceases to exist?  The list of passions could be endless but what really counts is the joy one receives from engaging in that special activity. Sign of the good life––one who is able to frequently engage in their favorite hobby. I say frequently because life’s responsibilities––your job, your family and good friends–– are priority one.

Your passion is not something you enjoy doing to pass the time. It’s something you steal time to do.  I love to play golf and pool. Then time ceases to exist. But if I’m not in a game I’m okay. Not true with writing. I miss writing if I can’t spend time creating a new piece of work and then showing it off to those who are willing to put up with my excitement.

Some people are lucky. They can earn a living from their passions. Think sports figures, musicians. There are some people whose job is their passion. Most of us, writers artists, need a job to pay for the love of our treasured activity. 

In my novel, Baggage burdens. many characters have a passion, but for one reason or another from time to time they have to set it aside for life’s demands. Reality. But the dream of making a living from one’s passion is kept alive in the person of Amber. She loves painting so much she makes it her focus in her post-secondary education goals. Her work is so good it sells. At different times she receives support from her aunt, her mother and her grandmother. However, the reality that one needs a job to support the passion is portrayed in the Jill (loves drama) and Joseph (loves growing food). 

Note: The best attribute about following your passion is that being involved in it is its own reward. Being paid for it is just a bonus, a very pleasing bonus.

How’s this for supporting 

a passion?

“Look what I made for you, Aunt Julie,” announces Amber as she tugs her hand. 

Julie squats. “What’ve you got there?” She points to an index card held in Amber’s hand.

Amber turns the card around for Julie to see a strawberry shortcake that she painted. “For you,” announces Amber. “You like strawberry shortcakes, so I painted one for you.” 

“It’s beautiful. And such incredible detail! I can even see the seeds on the strawberries. For me? You sure?” 

Amber nods, prompting Julie to give her a hug and thank her.

“Let me show you something special,” says Amber. She reaches for her card. “You see this?”

“Yes.”

“It kind of looks like a mistake, doesn’t it?” confesses Amber. “A bug landed on my work, so I used a corner of a toilet paper to wipe it away. I tried to be really careful and just barely touch the painting. It smudged. I was going to throw it away. Then I used my finger to brush away the spot. It smeared. I looked at it again.” Floating her thumb gently over the smudge, she explains, “I lengthened it. Now it looks like someone took a spoon and started eating the cake. Don’t you think that’s what it looks like?”

“I do!” says Julie, surprised at the young artist’s creative genius. “I’m sure glad you didn’t throw it out. I think I’ll buy a frame and put your painting in it. When you come to my place someday …” She pauses and looks at Jill. When Jill nods her approval, Julie continues, “You’ll see it up on the wall.”

“Really!” Amber’s thrilled. 

                My support wasn’t as enthusiastic

––I’m jealous–– 

but the encouragement 

still did the trick.

Haiku capsule:

Favorite hobby

Excitement bubbling over

My best time ever

Next Blog: Favorite Place

Happy New Year Foundations

Foundations for a

Happy New Year

Some people put a lot of trust in the saying, starting off on the right foot.  When applied to celebrating the arrival of a new year, who do you most want to share it with? Probably the most important people in your life, the ones you can you count on the most. Isn’t it comforting to have them by your side for important times?  

For some, family is the most important people in their life. Their presence and support are highly valued. Others count on fun to be the hallmark of the new year. Friends, dear friends make the party guest list. And so, one way of determining the foundation or base values of energetic people who stay up to midnight to welcome the new year is by noting who they choose to be with on special occasions and why. Common to both situations above is the most important foundation of all––your loved ones.

In my novel, Baggage burdens. in preparing for and hosting the New Year’s party loved ones are family, but who in the Kreshky really most values family: Jill? Joseph? Amber? Eve?

 “Can Eve stay overnight on New Year’s Eve?” Fred Wicksberg ’s tone is apologetic, as if his daughter has pressured him into phoning. “You do have a spare bedroom?”

Eve is Daniel's girl friend.

Jill greets the request positively. After she hangs up, she wonders if Daniel or Joseph knew of Eve’s interest in coming for New Year’s Eve. 

December 29, Eve phones Jill to ask if she can come over early for lunch on the thirty-first. She explains that she wants to get to know Jill better. 

Surprised, Jill agrees. She wonders what brought on Eve’s sudden interest.

When Joseph returns from the vendors with a bottle of wine to welcome the new year, they all sit down for supper. After dessert, Eve volunteers to clean the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher. Amber’s quick agreement clues Jill in. Eve has prearranged Amber’s support. Jill guesses Eve’s plan—She wants me to like her. 

Jill begins to wonder about the seriousness of Daniel and Eve’s relationship.

Daniel and Joseph turn the sofa to face the TV. Amber, with Eve’s help, drags some old oak office chairs from the wall so they all can sit near the screen. Jill brings wine glasses and the bottle of wine, which Joseph purchased. “For the toast,” explains Jill.

The old year marches into history. “Happy new year!” cheers with the hugs and kisses greet the new year. Joseph pours the wine and proclaims the toast. “May this year be even better than the last year. To the new year.” The fireworks on the screen draw their attention. Within an hour, all Jill’s goodies disappear. Good night wishes mark the end of the party.

“So, do you think last year’s New Year’s Eve toast came true?” asks Eve as she looks at Jill and then Amber. Eve is helping Amber and Jill prepare the New Year’s Eve treat trays—a vegetable tray, a fruit tray, and a meat, cheese, and cracker tray. 

“It’s been a good year,” says Jill.

Amber agrees. 

Looking at the bottle of wine, Eve says, “Same as last year, I see. A good tradition.” She sets the bottle down. “I think this year was the best ever. I doubt next year can beat it.” She proudly extends her left hand, wiggling her ring finger. “Today Daniel asked me to marry him.” She bounces up and down like a rubber ball. Jill catches her hand to get a better look at the ring.

After they finish admiring the small diamond ring and congratulating Daniel and Eve, Amber asks, “Why now?” She looks at Daniel for an explanation.           

“Exactly two years ago, Eve let me kiss her. She made it a very special day for me, so I wanted to do the same for her this year.” Daniel wraps his arm around Eve’s waist.

Haiku capsule:

Greeting the new year

Special time for special people

Look who counts the most

Next Blog: Passions

I Can't Sing

I  CAN’T SING

I can’t sing. I know I can’t. My grade six teacher told me so. She must know because she was the coral and music teacher. Because of her teaching, our class was so good that we were to compete in some kind of finals. Another student and I were asked to only mouth the words when we went to perform. My initial reaction––Why should I even bother coming to the finals? Had to. Attendance was taken. 

My lasting reaction––don’t ever sing, not even in a karaoke bar after any number of drinks. That’s easier said than done. In a congregation or other large group, no problem. No one will hear me. In a smaller gathering, I can sing so low that no one will be thrown off by my voice.

 Once that strategy failed. I was part of a small group that was asked to sing on stage for the pleasure of those in attendance. The eight of us were given microphones, thankfully only six. When we were on stage, one of those microphones was thrust into my hands. Unlike the other person who had to share the mike, I slid the terrifying instrument close to my partner. She sang beautifully. The audience really deserved to hear her. 

Just before our fourth song, the sound guy ran on to the stage with a portable mike. He gave the mike I was holding to my partner and the portable to me. Before he left, he tapped it twice to confirm that it was working. Oh, it was working, really working. The audience heard it. They clapped. I felt like I turned bright red. The music for our next song began. As our group started singing my mike sank farther and farther from my mouth until my wonderful partner correct my hand position. Thankfully, I still remembered what my sixth-grade teacher taught me about looking like I was really singing. 

That experience formed the confident foundation to believe that sometimes what a young person is told sticks to them for a life time, or in my case for the next fifty some years. In the case of Jill, the protagonist, in my novel, Baggage burdens. she remembers what her father said to her––you’re undeserving of love. She is convinced she can’t be a loving person so she didn’t deserve to be loved.

The context of the damning phrase is when Jill was seen to be a disobedient child, not a loving child. Therefore, she thought she did not deserve to be loved. Friends later, even her husband, all who did favors for her, did it not because they loved her––she didn’t deserve to be loved–– but because they wanted to put her in debt, put her in a position where she would have  to do something for them. Favors or gifts were a means of manipulation. 

The harshness of the last words angers Jill, reminds her of her father’s angry words when he came home after a night of drinking. 

You’re not fair! Who in hell do you think you are to say such ugly things?

Her unanswered thought failed to erase the label, “undeserving of love.”

Jill’s tears try to wash away the searing condemnation.

Haiku capsule:

You know, you can’t sing

So, don’t. Only mouth the words.

Life-long branding words

Next Blog: Foundations for a Happy New Year

Black Sheep

Black Sheep

Some ideas that come to mind when I hear black sheep are: odd one, one who doesn’t fit with the rest, even ugly duckling. When referred to an individual this odd ball is usually someone who does unconventional things that doesn’t fit. Whichever way you look at it, the phrase isn’t meant to be complimentary. Other negative references might include he’s square, out of touch with reality, old fashion. However, such a person may be one to be admired instead of ridiculed. It all depends upon the nature of the group that is putting the different individual down. 

This is the mind set behind developing Joseph, a character in my novel,Baggage burdens. At the time he is seen as refusing to conform. Joseph is in the company of his mid-twenties uncles, who loved to drink, particularly at parties. Their uninhibited actions included arguing with their parents and being hurtful. Ironically Joseph and his uncle Mike were labeled as black sheep because they couldn’t “let loose at parties,” couldn’t let alcohol be their excuse for objectionable behavior. 

Both Uncle Mike and Joseph didn’t see themselves as black sheep, because they placed themselves in different company, Mike with his “old fashioned” parents and Joseph with his grandparents. Mike, as eldest son worked most closely with his parents and easily adopted their attitude of conserving your time and energy for useful activities. Joseph was raised by his grandparents. His parents died in a motor vehicle accident when he was very young. Joseph was very grateful for the love and attention from his grandparents, who were Mike’s parents too. 

Even though both Mike and Joseph successful resisted falling into the trap of self-serving actions a haunting impression stuck with them. They weren’t like the rest: they weren’t as good as the rest. That feeling that he wasn’t quite good enough hampered Joseph in trying to win the attention of girls he was attracted to. Somehow, he still felt like a black sheep, someone who was not worthy enough for a girl to want to be with. 

The saying: sticks and stones will break my bones but names won’t hurt me is not true.

“Defending my Uncle Mike often got me in a lot of trouble.” 

His younger brothers labeled Uncle Mike as the black sheep of the family. 

“Know why?” asks Joseph.

Jill shrugs.

“Because Uncle Mike never drank at weddings. He never let loose at parties. Even worse, they claimed Uncle Mike was a drag. He’d report stupid things they did or said when they were smashed. Uncle Mike claimed his parents would have found out sooner or later. 

When I refused to join them at night in the shop for a snort or two, they said I was weird, like Mike. But I couldn’t do it. I’d seen too many times how they would walk into the house drunk. Then they’d get into a big argument with their father. I couldn’t believe the spiteful things they said. Then they’d stamped out of the house. I even saw my grandmother wipe tears from her eyes a couple of times. I just couldn’t do that. Does that sound weird to you?

 “Mike had enough of his brothers bugging him. He simply moved out.”

“When I started working on the extension, I brought bagged lunches and sat at the back near my work area. From there, I admired you serving with such ease and confidence. You appeared to be having fun joking with the people in the bakery. I heard you came up with menu changes. That takes courage.” 

After only a week, Joseph quit making his own lunches so he could purchase his meals at the bakery, and he could talk to Jill. Joseph told Jill that he shared his impressions about her with his best friend, Thomas Croschuk, and that Thomas scolded him for hiding in the background and only ordering food. Following his advice, Joseph complimented Jill on her cooking and remarked about any wardrobe changes.

“Unfortunately, I made my move too late,” Joseph confesses. Embarrassed, he turns and looks out over the lake.

“What do you mean?”

“By the time I acted on Thomas’s advice, I was almost finished with the renovations. To have an excuse to return to the bakery, I volunteered to add the moldings on the ceiling and matching trim around the windows in the dining area. I only quoted Ed a price for materials, not for labor. Ed had a tight budget, but I hoped he would accept. It was a good deal. He did. Later, at the end of November, he paid me a bonus. I think he figured out why I offered to do the extra work. Anyway, I learned through the grapevine that you and Ben were spending a lot of time together. I thought there was something developing between you two, so I gave up hoping I could go out with you. Thomas told me I was stupid to give up without trying.”

When Joseph finishes his story, he looks at Jill. He sees no sign of disapproval. 

Haiku capsule:

Unlike the others

On the outside looking in

Tarred as a black sheep

Next Blog: Can’t Sing