In January of 2011 I began a journey toward writing with a blog I named “Oh, For the Love of…My Children.” In my blog I tell story after story of life within the confines of our family. As I continued on my blog journey, though, I realized there was something more I was supposed to be doing. About a year after I began my blog, I was smacked in the face with the reality that it is time to follow the path of doing more than just my little blog.
Several times in the past couple of years other people who would like me to write stories about their lives have approached me. And I've been flattered beyond all belief but never really believed that telling others' stories was something I could do and do well. I love telling the stories of our family, our life in my blog. It's easy for me. I live it every day but I have been afraid to take others' stories on because I wasn't sure I could do them justice. I wanted to tell their stories but it was safe within my little blog. But life has a funny way of telling you what to do and when to do it, if you’ll just listen. And I was forced to listen to what life was telling me to do by way of a little Pilipino woman who had her story to tell.
My oldest son and I were traveling home from Maryland together and decided it was time for lunch. We wanted it to be a quick trip through the Wendy's drive through so we could get home. But as we were getting off the interstate, I decided I had a hankering for some good, old', fried chicken a la KFC. Lo and behold...the holy grail of fried chicken was right there in front of us. As I whipped the car into the parking lot, my son decided he needed to go in to use the facilities. We went from a quick trip through Wendy's drive through to parking the car and going in to order.
We walked up to the counter to place our order and pay for our food, and as I handed the little Pilipino woman behind the counter my card, she said, in a heavy accent, "I'm sorry. I'm not really with it today. My mind is elsewhere." I assured her it was fine. “We all have days like that,” I said. It was while I was paying for our lunch the little woman, with a heavy accent, poured out her story to me. It ended with me knowing more about her than I know about some of my friends. I have no idea what her name is but she needed a willing ear to hear her tale and I happened to be there.
She told me she found out her husband of 20 years has been having a five year long affair with another woman.
He fathered a child with this woman, bought her a car, and lived with her when he wasn't home with his wife and family. She told me she called her sister, who is a psychologist back in the Philippines for advice. She asked her sister why she wasn't sad, why she couldn't get mad. This little woman told me, with not a hint of tears in her eye, that her sister told her it was because she was in denial. She asked me if I thought she was in denial. I said I had to agree with her sister. She went on to ask me for my advice...what should she do? Should she leave him now, or wait...Oh, why me, I thought! Heavens, this is not my area. I couldn't wait to leave, to escape from this little woman who desperately wanted my advice and for me to hear her story.
I did a mental head slap as my son and I loaded back into the car. I realized I should have stayed and heard the rest of her story. I should have gotten her name and told her story the right way. It was then I knew it was time to tell other people's stories. I don't know what made this little woman spill her guts to me but she made me realize I want, and need, to tell stories not just about me and my family, but about other people as well, both fictional and non-fictional. It is what I’m supposed to do in life. I am a storyteller.
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Genre - Romantic Suspense
Rating – R (adult language / sexual scenes)