The writter

"Are you coming tonight?", She asked this question every time she would sit down to write! Waiting for the knock on her head, signaling the gushing, pouring river of thoughts her visitor would bring her.

She knew most people had writers block from time to time; but lately her block was as wide and long as the great wall of China!

She even researched articles on the "Great Wall" just to get writing ideas.

She tried walking around the block, going to the gym, starting in the middle of her thoughts; Nothing, it went nowhere in her head. She was getting impatient wanting eagerly to climb to the top of that dead block and start writing.

Her hand went up and slapped her forehead, her head snapped back, wake it up! Nothing! Ouch! Sometimes it hurts to write.

It's not like she hadn't written before. Her Word Document was Full of her writings, most of them were therapeutic ramblings about her life and what she experienced in her 69 years. She sighed, "had it really been that long"? Three marriages, although she only counted 2 of them. The fist was actually when she was only 16, that counts as a "Learning Permit".

The only perfect thing to come out of that marriage was her magnificent daughter, Lisa. Lisa's dad had a habit of going out for a loaf of bread and coming back 3 days later. He was a wonderer, and artist and a very well know "Pin stripper" of cars around the country. He was an wonderful father to Lisa, but had no idea what the definition of "How To Be A Husband", meant. When he was "Asked" to leave their home he went gladly contributing nothing, zero, nadda for years.

The lady remembered when she forfeited the monetary help. Lisa's dad had come to pick her up for the weekend. The lady had had it! Left without a car, a broken washer and dryer and limited funds through her meager job's she was finally going to make a stand; with a defiant hand on her hip, the other one holding her precious daughter she locked eyes with her ex husband and said, "Unless I get some help from you, you will NEVER see Lisa again"! She started to turn and walk away but stopped abruptly, their was a silent tear rolling down Lisa's cheek. The lady let out a sigh, turned back around and placed her daughter into he fathers arm. She never mentioned it again. This made her more determined to do it alone, on her terms, she would become a warrior!

There were writings and poems on her computer of her early life in New Port Beach CA, everything from raising her daughter alone to a horrific event of "Date" rap. She came from a family of 10 children, "A Good Catholic" family of course but just a dysfunctional as the next family with that many mouths to feed and a father that wasn't physical able to work. That is probably why the marriage at 16; the "Great Escape", that went well. She stopped staring at her blank computer and patted herself on the back. Yes, she had made it through a bumpy, harrowing, wonderful "Mad hatters Tea Party" of her life.

Her second marriage lasted almost 20 years until the bottom of her husbands alcohol bottle kept magically refilling it self. She left him this poem as she walked out the door.

His Mistress name is Wine

He says he loves her; she makes him feel so fine

But she’s made our life a wreck

Every night I sit here and watch him hug her neck!

It used to be me he would run home to greet

Now it’s her, I can’t compete

I watch him nightly sitting there

She’s on his lips; she’s on his chair

He doesn’t see me anywhere

He lies to me

Says just the one

I keep counting two three four

This time he can watch me as I head out the door

His Mistress name is Wine

And I won’t compete anymore

They can end up together, again on the floor!

Maybe this time he’ll follow life’s cord

And end up with Betty Ford!

He wasn't a "Bad" man, in fact he was the savior she needed at that time in her life. He took Lisa in as his own daughter. For years they had the perfect marriage; envied by all their friends and family!

She had sat in her chair, in her office for what seemed like an hour. The lady glanced at the blank page on her computer. Well, it really wasn't blank; at the top of the page there it was in black ink. She had written Assignment one. "Not bad for an hour", she thought, but glanced at her clock; it had been one and a half hours.

Sure, she had gotten up once or twice for important things like a glass of water, a bowel of peanuts, and a cigarette on the patio.

She knew she wanted to come up with a great first sentence that would draw the reader in. The lady began to type.

 "She would if she could, but she can't, so she won't"!

Re-reading that line it suddenly flew out of her head and smashed against her office door, breaking like a Goose egg spilling letters of the alphabet across floor. They began rolling on the tile until they landed against the Lady's dark mahogany antique hutch in her foyer. All at once she was on her knees, on the floor, trying desperately to put them back into her head.

Once they were back in place, she sat, again in her chair and starred at what she had written. She quickly deleted it and looked back at the page. Assignment one...Well that was start at least. Maybe should she write about NOT writing, "That was a thought", she liked it and the words began to flow.

Yes, she COULD do this. She could write. Her fingers were tapping furiously on the keyboards until her assignment was finished. A smile of complete and utter satisfaction was plastered all over the lady's face.

Yes, you did come tonight, hopefully I'll see you tomorrow!