put on her cheaters and wrote:
Dear Max, grief is like my tote bag. I carry it everywhere I go.
Her eyes felt heavy, and the next thing Harriet knew she woke in a darkened room. The sun had already set, but she took her journal anyway and headed for the pool. The area was nice. Big and spacious with a glass roof that made it possible for Harriet to look out into the night sky. It was too bad that the city lights obscured the sky. Harriet thought the stars would have been spectacular if she could only see them. She settled on a lounge chairand sighed as she opened her notebook and reread what she had just written. Then wrote:
I’m sorry, honey. I must have been tired. I feel asleep. You’ll never believe where I’m at — poolside at a hotel in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. It’s an indoor pool with a glass ceiling. I can see the moon — a little bit — it’s not full, and I can only see a couple of stars. Remember how we enjoyed heading out sometimes, late at night, to kiss in the warmth of the Milky Way? I want to do that again; well, don’t get nervous — not the kissing part, unless it was with you. But I want to see stars. Millions of them poured out by the gallons and gallons.
She stopped writing and thought a moment. Then she wrote,
But Max, the most exciting thing is … well, taking place inside my heart. I had been thinking about my life and do you know — I never accomplished anything. Not really. Oh, I raised a good son. I was a good church lady, but I never did anything. I never even tried, but now I am; I’m finally doing something spectacular. At least it is to me.
She stopped writing again. But then hurried to write,
Oh dear, did I just write that?
She closed her journal and closed her eyes. When she opened them it was nearly midnight and a man was standing over her.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, but the pool is closing.”
Harriet shook her head. “Oh, dear me. I’m sorry. I fell asleep.”
“Happens all the time,” the man said.
Harriet stood. “Thank you. I’ll just be going to my room.” She looked at the young man. “You remind me of Henry.”
“Henry?”
“My son. He’s a writer — working on his second novel — I think it’s number two. He’s not famous — well, not yet. I’m on my way to see him.”
“That’s nice.”
Harriet stared for another few seconds. “Well, good evening, Hen —”
“Phillip, ma’am, my name is Phillip.”
She noticed his name badge. “Yes, of course. Thank you, Phillip.”
Harriet had chosen a king guest room for the night. It was large with beautiful white linens, a huge bathroom, and of course a flat screen TV bigger than her dining room table. So after taking a shower and changing into a nightgown, Harriet made herself comfy in the large bed. She clicked on the TV and surfed until she landed on a Bette Davis movie —
Now Voyager.
One of her all-time favorites.
Just as Bette and Paul Henreid were about to kiss for the first time, her phone jingled. She was glad it did because it helped her not get all misty-eyed.
“Hello,” Harriet said with her eyes on the TV.
“Harriet, it’s me. Martha. I know it’s late, but you know me — a night owl. I was hoping you were still up.”
“Oh, Martha, how nice. How are you?”
“Just fine. There’s a big storm here, thunder, lightning. Where are you?”
“Winston-Salem, North Carolina. And yes, I’m still awake.”
“How’s it going?”
“Fine. It’s going fine. But for a minute today I thought maybe I should just get on a plane and fly to Grass Valley.”
“Maybe you should.”
“Nah, I was just missing Max and Humphrey. Hold on a second, will ya, Martha. Bette Davis is about to —”
“Who? Bette Davis? Harriet, what’s going on?”
“A movie, Martha. I’m watching a movie.” Harriet set the phone down on the bed. A half hour later she picked it up. Martha had hung up.
“Oh dear. I’ll call her back tomorrow.”
Tomorrow arrived and Harriet woke
Dear Max, grief is like my tote bag. I carry it everywhere I go.
Her eyes felt heavy, and the next thing Harriet knew she woke in a darkened room. The sun had already set, but she took her journal anyway and headed for the pool. The area was nice. Big and spacious with a glass roof that made it possible for Harriet to look out into the night sky. It was too bad that the city lights obscured the sky. Harriet thought the stars would have been spectacular if she could only see them. She settled on a lounge chairand sighed as she opened her notebook and reread what she had just written. Then wrote:
I’m sorry, honey. I must have been tired. I feel asleep. You’ll never believe where I’m at — poolside at a hotel in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. It’s an indoor pool with a glass ceiling. I can see the moon — a little bit — it’s not full, and I can only see a couple of stars. Remember how we enjoyed heading out sometimes, late at night, to kiss in the warmth of the Milky Way? I want to do that again; well, don’t get nervous — not the kissing part, unless it was with you. But I want to see stars. Millions of them poured out by the gallons and gallons.
She stopped writing and thought a moment. Then she wrote,
But Max, the most exciting thing is … well, taking place inside my heart. I had been thinking about my life and do you know — I never accomplished anything. Not really. Oh, I raised a good son. I was a good church lady, but I never did anything. I never even tried, but now I am; I’m finally doing something spectacular. At least it is to me.
She stopped writing again. But then hurried to write,
Oh dear, did I just write that?
She closed her journal and closed her eyes. When she opened them it was nearly midnight and a man was standing over her.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, but the pool is closing.”
Harriet shook her head. “Oh, dear me. I’m sorry. I fell asleep.”
“Happens all the time,” the man said.
Harriet stood. “Thank you. I’ll just be going to my room.” She looked at the young man. “You remind me of Henry.”
“Henry?”
“My son. He’s a writer — working on his second novel — I think it’s number two. He’s not famous — well, not yet. I’m on my way to see him.”
“That’s nice.”
Harriet stared for another few seconds. “Well, good evening, Hen —”
“Phillip, ma’am, my name is Phillip.”
She noticed his name badge. “Yes, of course. Thank you, Phillip.”
Harriet had chosen a king guest room for the night. It was large with beautiful white linens, a huge bathroom, and of course a flat screen TV bigger than her dining room table. So after taking a shower and changing into a nightgown, Harriet made herself comfy in the large bed. She clicked on the TV and surfed until she landed on a Bette Davis movie —
Now Voyager.
One of her all-time favorites.
Just as Bette and Paul Henreid were about to kiss for the first time, her phone jingled. She was glad it did because it helped her not get all misty-eyed.
“Hello,” Harriet said with her eyes on the TV.
“Harriet, it’s me. Martha. I know it’s late, but you know me — a night owl. I was hoping you were still up.”
“Oh, Martha, how nice. How are you?”
“Just fine. There’s a big storm here, thunder, lightning. Where are you?”
“Winston-Salem, North Carolina. And yes, I’m still awake.”
“How’s it going?”
“Fine. It’s going fine. But for a minute today I thought maybe I should just get on a plane and fly to Grass Valley.”
“Maybe you should.”
“Nah, I was just missing Max and Humphrey. Hold on a second, will ya, Martha. Bette Davis is about to —”
“Who? Bette Davis? Harriet, what’s going on?”
“A movie, Martha. I’m watching a movie.” Harriet set the phone down on the bed. A half hour later she picked it up. Martha had hung up.
“Oh dear. I’ll call her back tomorrow.”
Tomorrow arrived and Harriet woke
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