Continuing the new story.

She gets ready to shoot; her daughter meets a doctor who suggests she shouldn’t shoot because she’s pregnant and suddenly they are friends. The daughter tells him she’s a widow; the doctor has a son and suggests they meet. When the doctor sees the lovely mother, he recognizes her as the woman he had fallen in love with during her pregnancy.

Her husband had them all move because he felt she was getting involved with the doctor. The story goes round and round in a delicious way. You’ll enjoy this story when it’s finished

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My Latest Story

This is the latest story, another one I Love. Join me in another tale of romance and love. She finds herself in an odd position. The doctor who delivered her baby has discovered her at a place to shoot. What an odd position . Add to this, her daughter is expecting and he reinvites the two of them. What will become of the two couples after all these years.

An anniversary for us

Coming soon, Don and I will celebrate so many good years together. December 28 is the date. We celebrated at the dearest restaurant near our home inviting close friends only plus our beloved children. Don wore a tux-so fancy-and I, with him, went to Lord and Taylor for a nifty white gown. We handed out copies of “Young at Heart” and everyone sang as we walked up the aisle. So much fun. Then I wrote a script about how we met. And so it went with lots of love and friendship.

The years have passed and we are still together. Talk about sickness and health, we’ve had it all and still survived. We are still best buddies, no matter what. So join us in a premature celebration on this day.

Thanks for joining us.

Don and Charmaine


Wip-check this out

Newly widowed Joan has her mind in a spin. What to do with his car now that he’s gone and his Harley. Yum. She can ride that baby anytime and the Skeet club he belonged to. Hell, she can shoot skeet just as well as the men. Oh yes. And she had their, uh, her therapy dogs all trained and ready to work. That would take up several days each week.

And so we meet the widow to see what she’s up to.

With high hopes, Joan dressed in Larry’s Harley jacket over his fancy club outfit. His suede jacket fit nicely over her pink cashmere sweater and jeans. Her body had a good shape for an older woman; Larry always said so, the jerk, and best of all, the women never came to the event because they weren’t shooters.

She zoomed into the parking lot causing a commotion right away and she removed Larry’s helmet, shook out her beautiful hair and knew she needed a smaller helmet. James Franklin, the president this year so strong and healthy said, “We were all so sad to lose Larry and of course we will reimburse his yearly dues.

“James, that’s not what I had in mind since I’m an excellent skeet shooter and want to continue.” The tall man nodded, his gray hair combed so smoothly back fell forward: “Joan, we don’t have a rule leaving women out of the club so you are welcome.”

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A WIP!Once again.

Title: Since Larry Died

Newly widowed Joan braced her hands on the edge of the kitchen sink as she stared out at the garden. She breathed in the scent of lilacs wafting through the open window and thought what a mess and she had to fix it, make it right and why? No one’s home and only she would see the flowers bloom anymore; the fun of pulling dandelions together ended the day his heart attacked him.

A laundry list of pleasure left her life but the worst one to top the list was he never even said goodby.

Joan inhaled a deep breath and let it out in hopes the memories would fade in time; then the backload of conviction she’d summed up to battle her wallowing in the abyss, she snapped her shoulders back and spoke to her deceased husband.

“You exited stage left so I’ll write the next scene myself, if that’s okay, my dear.”

She had to write a letter to him; “Dear deceased Larry, you son of a bitch! “It’s your fault you died and left me alone. Take your pills, I said, everyday, but no; and now you’re gone and I’m alone.

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More memories

This is the time of my life when memories come fast and strong. I recall the son who didn’t live. Labor pains came, I heard the delivery and asked the nurse what I had. She said for me to wait for the doctor. The news was grim. The baby didn’t survive.

Some months later, the same experience happened. We had two sons and then bad luck. Another one lost. Determined to complete my little flock, I eventually had another baby boy so precious and then the girl I’d waited for. A difficult task and finally she was born; I came close to dying but survived after four days. I saw the light in a tunnel, reached for it and thought; live. Your husband has to be there for the little ones so new and the older sons. So I lived and lived to raise a family expecting the older kids to grow and be so fine.

Not true. They didn’t do as they should; my husband died and I was alone. Truly alone. So that’s life. Determined to move on, meet someone knew, that;s what I did. We make a good pair, taking care of each other. Once in a while, things work out.

Thanks for listening. May your lives be happy and blessed.


Short story

She was born and a few days later she got married. She could hardly remember a time when Bob wasn’t an inportant part of her life.

They met in high school, a suburb of the north side of Chicago. Joyce was a freshman, Bob the big senior voted the funniest in his class; a six footer with sand colored hair, green eyes and freckles.  Who could resist him? Not Joyce who made up her mind, setting her cap, the way people spoke in the forties. Like a detective on the scent, she tracked down his schedule to find out where he’d be at homeroom. where everyone had to be at 10 a.m.

Racing up to the fourth floor domain of the seniors, the freshman , wearing a red plaid pleated skirt, red cashmere sweater set with Peter Pan collar dickey and white bobby socks with white and brown saddle shoes, ran up three flights, taking the stairs two at a time.

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