The Hand That Holds Mine

The sun rises bright and beautiful as if it feels no pain.

It must not see, it must not hear, it can’t possibly or it would not be able to overcome so defiantly.

My bed creaks and whines when I leave it behind.

I don’t know why it tries so hard to hold onto me but yet I continue to try and overcome.

I put on my shirt, my pants that fit me, find my socks and glue my heel back to my boot.

My gloves are lost, my coat is torn but my scarf still keeps me warm and so I continue to try and overcome.

Work has no pride, no place for me but I have no other place to be.

My broken dreams continue to rise, my hopes continue to fade but still I try to overcome.

A broken window and a gas tank on
E,
it’s not Friday so I have to walk each day for at least another three.

And so I walk while the world cries and pleas and tries to swallow me but still I continue and try to overcome.

My lock on my door only turns halfway, but I don’t have anything to steal anyway.

My fridge is bare but my cabinet still holds three so I continue to try and overcome.

The news haunts me, the weather threatens to rain down on me but another day has gone by.

And I have overcome, I have overcome … I have overcome -
the sun has nothing on me.

~
Adeline ~

How many blows from life’s fists can one person take before they stop believing?

My name is Adeline Beal, I was born with next to nothing but aspired for everything. The world around me has always moved quickly, and with a darkness that hovers over me like a never-ending storm. My life was set to be like my mother’s, working day and night, caring for children she couldn’t afford and taking care of a dying husband until she had nothing left of herself. She had strength like no one woman could but still … the world beat her down. The world took my parents from me and sent my brothers and sisters to places I could never find. The world has a way of taking more from you than it is ever willing to give. When you are born, no one promises fairness or even hope. The only thing you are given is a life and it is up to you to make the best of it but I wanted to do more than simply - make the best of it. I have never spent a moment not dreaming, not believing in another place, another world, a better world. I refused to believe that this was going to be my life, that - struggle and heartache, were going to be the only life I know.

With what I had learned from my own life experiences and my imagination, I escaped to write my first book - in the backroom of a sandwich shop. My manager was kind enough to allow me breaks long enough to get a chapter a day done. The man I married called it a waste of time, a foolish hobby, an annoyance that he was sick of hearing about. Books and writing, all fantasies that have no place in real life and no security for what
he
wanted. Two years after I finished my first book, it was published and six years later, I completed my best-selling series and made enough money to live a life I had always dreamed of. I could finally buy a home, have children and a dog to sleep at my feet as I write. A chance to travel to places I had only seen in pictures. My road was becoming brighter and brighter and I felt as if I could almost touch that beaming light at the end of my jagged road. That I could reach out and it would warm my hand and instantly set me free from my past.

In every book I read as a child, it always ended with, “And they lived, Happily Ever After.” Happily ever after? How is that possible? Am I suppose to believe that they never fought? That they agreed on everything - forever? That they never had any concern of any sort? Did they spend every moment of their lives together just being … happy? Well that doesn’t sound all that appealing to me. It’s the twists and the bumps in the road that make the journey so exciting and so much more fulfilling when you overcome them. In my books, it is the ability of the hero to overcome but only with his heroine at his side, battling every step of the way, hand in hand. Together they make a life, by traveling down a long and rocky, but oh so exciting road, making their happiness with each day that they overcome together. My stories may end with a resolution and the hero and heroine may come together but not happily ever after, but happy to journey together, forever. At the end of each of my books I place a symbol, my symbol for happily ever after. The perfect rose encircled by its own twisted, rugged vine. For they may be happy now but they will most certainly run into bumps and twists along their journey, but true love will always help them return to the perfect rose.

That is the life I wanted, not the happily ever after but just like in my books someone to travel by my side and help me return to the perfect rose.

~
Adeline ~

 
Joshua slips away from his enemies and searches through the darkness to find what he has always wanted, what he has been endlessly searching for …

The golden statue! … no … His hat? - oh, that is so bad. He … is … searching for … his mind apparently, because I got nothing.
I have no idea what he is searching for, I don’t even know who he is!
AAAHHH!
Presumably my last novel and I can’t come up with two sentences that are any good.
Two sentences!

“You decided to get started finally, huh?” Jeneba asks me, as she flutters around my room tidying up everything in sight before she has to go.

“I wouldn’t call it a start, it isn’t even an idea. I don’t know how I am supposed to write without an idea.” I say with bitterness.

“You’re forcing yourself, you should do what you always have and let it come to you. You’ll get it in time.”

“I don’t have any time! That’s the one thing I don’t have.” I snap at her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to take my frustrations out on you.”

“It’s alright, but I would feel better if you would eat some of your food before I go.” Glancing to my side, I turn my nose up at the bland soup and dry bread. I am tired of this diet, I want a pizza - from
Italy
, or Sushi - from
Japan
, not …
this.

Deb walks in and drops several bags on the floor next to me. “What is that?” I ask annoyed by her abundant mess.

“One bag has all the supplies for knitting, the other has supplies for scrapbooking and the last one has some charcoal and such for sketching.” She says smiling wide at me and not at all appreciating my unenthused attitude over it all. “Oh don’t look at me that way Adeline, I think you need to relax, not frustrate yourself trying to write. It is too much pressure, you are trying too hard to make your last book the best ever. You shouldn’t put so much pressure on yourself, you have accomplished so much. Most people would be more than satisfied with your accomplishments. Jeneba agrees with me.” Deb motions towards a fleeting Jeneba. “Chicken!”

“I am not knitting, sketching, nor am I going to scrapbook! I have nothing to scrapbook anyway. Or at least nothing that doesn’t remind me of
him
somehow.” Setting my glasses back on my nose I push the screen of my laptop back into position.

“Ok ignore me and continue doing whatever you want to but the doctor said you need to rest. I am only trying to help.” She leans down kissing my head, and taking my hand when I hold it out for her.

“Love you.” I say with a hard gulp.

“Love you too, sweetheart. Eat some and I will call you later to check on you.” Deb my long time literary agent and my best friend is determined to hold out hope. Jeneba, my neighbor, my good friend and my part-time nurse is more of a realist and maybe that’s why I prefer her to be around. As I stare at the keys of my keyboard, my vision begins to blur and my ears perk up as I listen to my friends discuss my life from a distance they believe is safe enough to do so. Back and forth they talk about a possible cure, and they end their conversation by discussing
him
.

Mitch Blake
- my husband, soon to be ex-husband. He seemed perfect, wonderful in every way, although not overly supportive of my writing in the beginning, he became quite supportive once they started bringing in money. So much so, he was almost annoying he was so attentive and caring. All that ended, when I became sick and became too slow to keep up with him. The memories of our slow demise will always be clear to me. It is so easy for me to see now but then I wanted to pretend that it was all my imagination. I wanted to believe my dreams were still within reach:

 
“Adeline!” Mitch yells racing through the house, finding me lying down. “What are you doing, taking a nap? We don’t have time for your laziness Adeline, get up and get ready.”

“I am trying Mitch but I just don’t think I can. I am so tired and I …” I say watching him as he checks his hair in the mirror.

“You have to be the laziest woman I have ever met. I suppose you want to stay home again? You know if you don’t start enjoying life a little more … all you are going to have is your made up stories.” Sighing deeply he puts his hands on his hips and looks me over. “If you stay home what are you going to do?”

“Nothing, I think I need some sleep.” I sigh sinking into the softness of my pillow and feeling good about him giving up on forcing me to go with him.

Huffing, he shakes his head at me, “At least write, do something. I spend every day working on making you successful and for some reason you think you can now lie around and let me do all the work? I hope you don’t expect me to stay here with you? I have to bust my butt going to all these parties and schmoozing all the money people and try to get them to invest in my new business.”