Archive for December, 2011

Sneak Peek Sunday

Every Sunday I will attempt to share an excerpt from my work in progress which will hopefully be a book someday…”You Can Hope”. 

March 2010

I drove down the familiar roads seeing all of my favorite pure Michigan sights.

Big barns set up in front of the sunset with a pond reflecting the light that is pounding against it. Rows and Rows and Rows of corn set the scene that I am back in the heart of the Midwest and I wonder why I’ve been gone for so long.

The blue water tower with IMLAY CITY is in the distance brings back smells that are all too familiar. Memories flood my mind with every street that I turn down.

I pass the home where I used to babysit three crazy kids. Knowing about the secret stairs that leads to the attic with a giant trunk that I still think must hold treasures that only movies could uncover.

A couple is walking their dog down the street and I wave knowing it is my High School English teacher and her husband. Haven’t seen them for a few years but I have become used to bumping into them every now and again when I come back to visit.

Finally, I pull into the driveway that I can picture in my mind every time I close my eyes. I stay in my jeep for just a few minutes longer knowing that what I’m going to experience is not going to be easy. Knowing that when I walk through that door so many emotions will explode into my heart.

The smell of coffee permeates my nose as I set my bag down and greet my basset hound who can’t tell who I am but is ready to greet anyone that comes through her doors gladly.

I walk through the big oak doors and there he is sleeping on his chair. The one constant I can always count on. My mom quickly greets me as she comes down the stairs which wakes my dad up and I am welcomed with the largest smile I’ve ever seen.

He stands up and pulls me into his arms. I just saw him last week but I sink into the unexpected snuggle and finally, finally, I can feel myself relax.


I jump up. The room is dark and my arms are empty. I am suffocated with tears as I reach to shut off my alarm clock. It has been almost a year since my dad has hugged me, except in dreams that never come often enough.



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