Summer 2007

This is a free association word prompt.
(response to word prompt underlined in the story)







After the Last Goodbye

Sitting in the old wicker rocking chair in a room
that had served as a nursery for three healthy infants,
Meg's heart felt full of passion.
Lately, she had been crying over just about anything
and being in this room,
probably for the last time ever,
was about as painful as any situation could be.
There was no way she could hold back the tears now
and she didn't even make an attempt to do so.

Meg sipped at her second glass of iced tea
and plopped herself down in the old wicker rocker
left for the new owners of the house.
She pulled her journal out of the over sized
carry all tote bag she always had with her.
To some a journal like this would be no more
than a book full of jotted down memories
that would be slowly forgotten over time.
To her, this journal had become her lifeline.
It was her escape from the explosive confrontation
that had ended her marriage,
her way to hold on to her sanity
without becoming a burden to friends and family,
her way to work through the pain
and try to find contentment again.
Instead of writing down her thoughts here in this room,
Meg started to read some of the entries
she had written long before she found out
her life was taking a whole new direction.
She was hungry to relive moments from the past
when she had laughed and loved so easily.
The air in the room seemed thick and heavy.
A quick glance out of the window told her that evening
was approaching and she sat there for a while, quiet,
lonely and unsure of what to do from this point.
She turned back to the entries in her journal
and allowed herself to forget about the reality
all around her and instead
swim in her memories for just a while longer.

All of her words up until eleven months ago had painted
pictures of a happy family frolicking without cares.
She had written about her children and all
of the childhood giggles and upsets they endured.
Many pages of her life, yes,
not just her journal but her life,
were about two yapping Yorkshire Terrier dogs
happily nipping at the heels of her children
as they all chased fireflies or played a game of tag.
She read until she came to a page
that described the fear her youngest daughter Sarah
had felt when they moved into this house
when she was only six years old.
"Mama," Sarah had asked her,
"How will I make new friends?
I'm not allowed
to go out of the yard by myself you know."
At the time, it had been so easy to reassure Sarah
but Meg realized that right now,
she herself felt just as scared as Sarah did
at the age of six and she had been just as stubbornly
avoiding the change that had to be made.

She couldn't recall the exact moment that her world
had started to crumble
but she would never forget the pain it brought her.
Her husband, a safe, solid, dependable
pillar of the community had sent her and the children
away for a few days to visit with her family.
He hadn't expected Meg
to become ill and return home early.
She hadn't expected to come home
and find another woman in her kitchen
wearing nothing but her husbands oversized t-shirt.
Everything that happened over the course
of the next few hours is still a blur to Meg
but nothing was ever the same again
as it had been before she and the children
left giggling just a few days before.
When the full impact of the event had sunk in,
she was filled with anger and devastation
Only a few days later,
total humiliation set in when she was served
divorce papers along with a hand written note
from her less than charming husband,
"Sorry it didn't work out,
I need to really live my life
instead of just working to get by.
Hope you find someone to make you happy the way I did."

Meg walked through the house again noticing
how comfortable and cozy it appeared to be,
as if it was just waiting for a new family
to bring in laughter, romping, life and dreams.
She stopped in the kitchen and wondered
if the new owners would bring in fresh tomatoes
from the garden and slice them thickly
to eat on sandwiches thick with mayonnaise.
She wondered if the new woman of the house
would play the radio while she cooked and did the laundry,
dancing around the room,
often with a broom as her dancing partner.

She left the house through the kitchen door,
pulling it tightly closed
and checking to make sure that it locked.
As she walked to her car she realized that her journal
was not just a record of her thoughts
and the events of her life.
Writing, Meg had to admit,
was her way to calm frustrations,
to think things through,
to vent her needs and her desires.

She opened the door to her old Chrysler
and looked back at the house one more time.
She got into the car,
and before she started the engine,
took a large manila envelope from her carry all tote bag.
She needed to write something down right now,
before she had too much time
to think and maybe change her mind.
She needed to sign the final divorce papers
she had carried around with her for a week now.
Being here in this house one last time
had been good for her.
It had given her some closure.
After all, this wasn't the first time
she had made changes in her life
and she had always survived.
With a new attitude,
Meg realized that the contents of that envelope
could either be an
ending, or a new beginning,
the choice was hers to make.

© 6/20/2007 Dianna Doles Petry







Click HERE
to visit Dianna's personal website.













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