She has almost gotten used to looking at the eclipse, the dark grey void in front of her. She has almost learned to discern what lays at the edges of the corona, the periphery of her sight.
"Please don't," Candace begs Wanda, the pink fuzzy shape that is her nurse. "Please no fuss, no singing, no candles. Just let it go, okay?"
It has been years, decades really, since she celebrated her birthday. Well, if pressed, she'll admit to occasionally having killed a bottle of wine on that day. In general, though, those days have passed in blessed negligence.
Why would she want to celebrate? Why celebrate the fact that she has simply been breathing for this many years? It's not as if she has produced anything noteworthy. And why would she want to be reminded that she may still have years stretching before her?
Now that her macular degeneration has made it impossible for her to live alone. Now that she can't properly see the TV or a computer screen. Can't see playing cards, scrabble or backgammon pieces. Can't see the yarn she used to knit. Can't read a book or newspaper, can't paint or take a walk on her own. She is not looking forward to years of being locked in her own thoughts. Yes, she knows about audio books and podcasts. But she'll admit her concentration is wavering and won't let her sit and listen without her mind wandering.
Wanda, being young, optimistic and sweet just had to stop at the bakery and buy her a cupcake. "Go ahead, make a wish, Miss Candace. I won't tell anyone."
Candace has only one wish. One she's had for decades. Her biggest regret. She tells herself she's only indulging Wanda when she closes her eyes.
I would like to know what the road not taken would have looked like.
Candace smiles and takes a bite of the little cake and thanks Wanda for the thoughtful gesture. As far as cupcakes go, it's not bad. When Wanda has moved on, promising to be back later, Candace leans back in her recliner, folds her hands in her lap and closes her eyes.
^*^*^
She's resting on her elbows, looking down at Brody. His sea-blue eyes look up at her. His smile is tentative as if he's waiting for her to say something. She smiles, nods. "Yes."
He melts in relief. One arm wrapped around her shoulder, the other pulls her close to him. She shudders. Oh, my! Is she - about - to have - her first - - She grinds herself against him and dissolves.
When she opens her eyes again, Brody looks at her with a combination of awe and humor. "I should have asked months ago." he grins. She smiles and sags into the safety of his arms.
*^*^*
Wanda wakes her for her one o'clock medications. Candace smiles sleepily at the pink blur to her left and dutifully swallows the pills Wanda drops in her palm. Candace tries to snuggle back into her dream.
"You okay, Miss Candace? You feelin' alright?" Wanda probes.
Candace nods and looks toward the young girl. "I'm okay, Wanda. You just woke me from a lovely dream. I want to go back there."
Wanda chuckles. "You do that and tell me all about it later, will you?"
Candace smiles. "My dreams may be too hot for you to handle, child."
Wanda is already a silhouette against the light from the hallway. "I hope so, Miss Candace." She laughs. "I hope so."
^*^*^
Brody urges Candace to sit down at the kitchen table. "I need to talk with you." The twins - screech! Time out! Twins? Who said anything about babies? Let alone twins. Really? Twins ... Well, okay, twins it is. - are asleep.
As soon as he pulls the chair out for her, Candace thinks the worst. He has found someone else. He wants a divorce. He has a terminal disease.
"You want to start a business?" She almost laughs at the relief. A business she can handle. She scoots closer. "Tell me about this business."
He takes both her hands and describes his plan with enthusiasm and detail. He'll need to go back to school, part time would be okay. He'll work with his friend Will. How much they'll need to borrow. Their timeline, projections, etc., etc.
"Okay," she says at length, knowing that Brody is always thorough, will have researched this plan to the nth degree. "Okay, we'll make it work. Cut back on things. We'll make it work." She takes his hand and leads him upstairs, giggling. "If I'm to be the breadwinner for a while, I want to be on to..."
*^*^*
"Miss Candace?" Wanda gently touches Candace's shoulder.
"Wanda, your timing leaves a lot to be desired." Candace grumbles.
"That's what Mr. Courts in 43 always says too. " She laughs. "Your children are here."
Children? Wouldn't she remember giving birth? Everything she has ever read or heard about pregnancy, childbirth, motherhood has led her to believe that it is absolutely life-altering. Why doesn't she remember this?
She lowers the footrest of her recliner, rakes her hand through her too thin hair and slowly gets up. When she turns toward the door, she is instantly, completely overwhelmed by a tsunami of feelings that she has never felt before. Is this what all mothers feel? Is this what her mother felt? This heart-filling, protective - don't anyone dare hurt one hair on these perfect creations, my creations - feeling?
Candace watches a beautiful female replica of Brody walk into the room, closely followed by a male mini-me. Correction, a taller, more handsome version.
"Mona, Mike! You came. You made my day." She's babbling, gushing. Oh, what the hell! She's eighty - effing- five years old and she's just fallen head over heels in love with her own kids for the first time. She's entitled to babble, isn't she?
It's a rare, perfect day in April. The breeze is gentle, the afternoon is fragrant with the smells from the barbeque. There are no clouds in front of her eyes, no Vaseline smeared over her corneas when she walks outside. There on the lawn are - Candace sees them clearly, has known them forever - Mona's husband Len and their children. Mike's wife, Conny and their two boys. And their spouses and babies.
Just minutes ago, she was alone. Just minutes ago, she was all but blind.
Her kids - really, she reminds herself. She has kids, she and Brody have children.- Their children know better than to bring cupcakes. There is wine and nuts and cheese and many other goodies.
Candace is holding one of her great granddaughters. The poor thing looks just like one of Candace's baby pictures. She's a mess, a happy, sloppy mess. A little moist from the more than a little moist baby bottom and a bit sloshed from the wine.
Suddenly there are so many memories.
Their birth, first steps, learning to ride bikes, their first dance, first dates. Their almost constant bickering and competition. Their fierce defense and united front against any outsider. How they had struggled being at different colleges. Their weddings. How they have gone their separate ways, but always know where the other is, what they are doing. How they still tease, admire and support each other.
The sun is about to be eclipsed. Everyone has special glasses. Len even bought special lenses for his camera. When the sunlight starts to fade, Candace's vision begins to blur and cloud again. She reaches for their hands and marvels at the possibility of having created these two seemingly perfect humans. To have somehow experienced, conjured or dreamed their lives in the span of a few hours. She knows that all this will disappear when she wakes up. But Candace would like to think that they are real in another, more perfect universe. A universe where she is more confident, able to trust her judgement and allow herself to love and be loved.
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75 comments
Writers write from their own experiences and when I put two and two together from reading the comments here, this story resonated even more strongly. Great job! I used the beginning of this story to start me off on my latest, tentatively titled, "One for All Time." A little inspiration was all I needed, then I was off and running! Thanks for that.
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You are welcome. Would love to read it. Give me a heads-up when it's done, will you?
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Brilliant job, Trudy. Another winner. I love that you ended up with so much light.
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Thank you, Story.
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Great descriptions, I really liked the tone change from the beginning, depression and pessimism, to the hopeful optimistic view at the end. All from the MC's imagination. A great example that we can always dream big! Congratulations!
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Thank you, Marty. It is good to dream.
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The voice, the chosen words. Congrats.
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Thank you, Phillip. I'm glad you enjoyed it.
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I'm currently in heart failure. Genetics really shouldn't be allowed to have such a sway on our health when we've worked so hard to counteract them. But I have similar feelings so often. My memory slips because I've had three heart attacks in three years, and it just does something to brain function. So my entire household calls 'house slippers' 'foot muffins' because that was once the best I could come up with. But it's strange to feel like a stranger in your own body. I've always had heart issues. I've been sent home to die more than onc...
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Thank you so much, LeeAnn. I do understand. It doesn't matter whether we're twenty-four, forty-eight or in our dotage, at some point we are faced with the inevitable. And then we wonder if we could have done better, will there be time to make it better, make amends, leave a better legacy. Anytime we beat the odd (I've done it twice), something shifts, be it subtle or overt, but we are not the same anymore. There is a "before me" and an "after me". Neither one is better nor worse, maybe a little wiser - we hope. More power to us, right?
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Oh, that was beautiful! At first I actually kind of missed the MD part, and I thought that the MC had lost her vision to looking directly at the sun during a prior eclipse:)/:( but once I (finally) got it, it was so much sweeter-bittersweeter?-than I expected. Pardon my grammar
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Thank you, Faith. I'm glad you enjoyed my story. I agree it was kind-a bitter-sweet. Thanks for reading me.
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Beautiful story, Trudy. Difficult topics graciously handled.
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Thank you, Daryl. I'm so glad you liked it.
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Congrats on the shortlist with this beautiful story. My Mum went into a home last year with Vascular Dementia and her eyesight is bad. I can identify with this story. I'm glad we got to see a condensed glimpse of Candace's life. Great writing.
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Thank you. Kaitlyn. I'm sorry to hear about your mom. Thanks for reading and liking my story.
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Congrats on the shortlist! Well deserved, beautiful story
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Thank you, Hazel. I'm thrilled with the shortlist! Thanks for reading me.
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I really enjoyed this beautifully written story. My mother had Macular Degeneration and it was so sad to see how it affected her life. So sensitively written...
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Thank you, Jenny. Sorry to hear about your mother. MD is in my future too, so am cramping in all the reading I can.
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Congrats on the shortlist, rock star! Exciting! 😀
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LOL! And to think, you get to text with a real star. You rock, babe Thank you.
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Unique and creative, a concept that draws us in and uses vivid, interesting details so we are immersed in the story.
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Thank you, Kristy. I'm so gals you liked it. I'm thrilled with the shortlist. :-)
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Congrats !!!
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Thanks!!! Coem on, girl. Next Friday is your turn. :-)
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Nobody likes me...I'm eating worms !!! haha !!!
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Ha! that's funny! Well, they're high in protein, low fat. ( Ha ha) I've always thought I was a mushroom, you know, kept in the dark and fed manure. :-) Forgive me, I'm halfway through my celebratory bottle of wine. (Sorry, didn't mean to rub it in.) Go find your inner Dora the Explorer and tread fearlessly where no woman has tread before. Go MM, Go!
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Enjoy your celebration !!! well deserved! !!! <3
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Congrats on a great story Trudy!!
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Thank you, Jonathan
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Hey! Look at you! This is becoming a habit.
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Thank you, Ty. I know, right? Beats some other habits I have. :-)
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Hey Trudy, Well done for a great story and congratulations HH :)
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Thank you! :-) :-) :-) :-) This is a great habit to get into. The wine is chilling. Cheers!
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Save me a glass :)
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You're gonna have to hurry, man. That bottle is knocking on the fridge door ("let me out, just put me out my misery!") And I am (deep down - very deep down) a nice person and will give in to its requests. So, Slainte!
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Santé :)
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Congrats on the shortlist! So great to see your name here.🎉🎉 I know I read this but am not seeing my comment. Maybe cause I am on phone and it is not loading all of them?
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:-) Thanks. This never gets old, does it? Wine is on the way/
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Immersive story of the back and forth of how memory works with the present. The contrast between the young and the old works so well here. Life is cruel and yet solace is to be found in the joy of happy memories. Very relatable. In some respects, my mother is in a similar situation so it hit me in the heart reading it. Beautifully told piece.
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Thank you Helen. I' m so glad the message got through. I myself have the beginnings of MD, and I empathize with your mother. Thanks for you thoughtful feedback.
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I’m sorry to hear that.
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Passing between reality and dreams is never easy. I used to have those experiences. Not knowing what was true and not. Forgetting so many memories. Even today I can't remember a lot of them. It's like they forget their way back to me. Some time that makes me sad. Love your story.
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Thank you Darvico. I'm sorry I're missing part of your past. Memories are slippery things. They can take a life of their own or slip away at will.
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That's way I make a lots of new ones. So that I don't miss the old ones. To not have a time thinking about them.
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Beautiful story of the road not taken. Very sad.
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Thank you, Annie. I'm glad you liked it.
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