Since returning from holiday I’ve been totally remiss in replying to comments, have had no hope of keeping up with reading the blogs I follow, and haven’t written at all… I’m even confused about what day it is and how long I’ve been back! It was that good 🙂
So… I may have written this story before, multiple times, different ways..it’s worth repeating 🙂
Create a short story, piece of memoir, or epic poem that is 26 sentences long, in which the first sentence begins with “A” and each sentence thereafter begins with the next letter of the alphabet.
All bets were off the minute he walked into her field of vision. Believe it or not he was basically handed to her on a plate by her father!
Couldn’t hold him though, those doors slid shut long long ago.
Days spent surfing. Endless dances with the waves. Fish and chips, and coconut suntan lotion, and then…
Gone. His contract was up, he moved on and she was back at school in the city.
Instinct tells you the story stops here right? Just believe me when I tell you it’s the never ending story.
Kept in touch by mail – how she wishes now she’d kept his handwriting, his wonderful words. Long letters from a doctor 10 years older than the schoolgirl. Mind blowing, the age difference, the attraction? No, he was a perfect gentleman…for now.
Ordination was part of his story. Perhaps he thought about her while he was in the monastery, certainly he didn’t stay in robes. Quick side note – while she thanks him for introducing her to Buddhism, he no longer even meditates regularly…
Right after returning to Australia he came back, to stay with them again. Sun, surf, and stolen kisses…so gorgeous. This time he was there for her. Under no circumstances was her father happy about it, she was never sure why – the only answer could be the age gap? Very surprising that he wouldn’t rejoice in a potential son in law, let alone this one.
When it came time to leave this time, to drive up the coast to his next contract, he didn’t want it to be the end of them – ‘come live with me’… Xenogenous factors (ie the attitude of my father) meant both he and I knew it wasn’t going to happen. Years later we found each other again and emails and mobile phones which didn’t exist back then, have reminded us of a sweetness that we lived – see? never ending story.
Zabuton is calling.
Infinite love and gratitude for introducing me to the art of sitting on the cushion xx may you be well and happy