Author: ReelLifeYarns

Of Unknown Origin: A Short Story
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Of Unknown Origin: A Short Story

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We all think we have a unique origin story – something that will really stand out when someone says “So, tell me about yourself. Where are you from?” My memories of the earlier years of my life are as fuzzy as a dream you can’t remember 2 minutes after you wake up. You know it happened, and you know you WANT to recall the details, but it just escapes you. So, I can’t tell you a thing. Where am I from? Your guess is as good as mine. All you really need to know about me is I’m tough as nails and I will hurt you despite wanting nothing more than to be loved. Since you seem to be curious, I will tell you what I can – starting with what was likely the most important day of my life. 

It was springtime, and so many scents wafted through the air on a gentle breeze early that morning. The sharp essence of pine mingled with delicately sweet magnolia. The warm smell of the earth comforted me in the makeshift nest I had been sleeping in since the second night. Sounds great, right? Except it wasn’t. Even without memories of life before the woods, I’m pretty sure I was never a fan of the outdoors. Yet there I was – in the middle of 10,000 acres of primitive forest, completely alone. It had been a rough few weeks out in the woods. At least, I think it was weeks, but it could’ve been months. The trifecta of malnutrition, exhaustion, and fear made it nearly impossible to track the passing of time. All I can say is I didn’t have much life left in me the night before, and I didn’t expect to wake up that day.  As a matter of fact, I recall hoping I wouldn’t wake up at all. These days, I spend a lot of time trying to remember exactly how I ended up there. I spend even more time contemplating how I managed to survive. 

Saying I was all alone in the forest is not exactly accurate. The expected occupants of most forests were present – coyotes, birds, snakes, the occasional bear. I was no Snow White and none of them were my friends. I still can’t believe I wasn’t eaten by the coyotes at some point. I think one may have tried, or maybe my leg was nearly caught in a bear trap, or maybe I was hit by a car. How I ended up with a severely broken leg is one of what I refer to as the “unsolved mysteries of the woods”. Another of the mysteries is how I didn’t starve to death. I don’t possess any special knowledge of edible flora so I just kind of ate what looked like it might not kill me – leaves, a few berries that I noticed some rabbits were eating, some strange looking brown mushrooms that were definitely of questionable safety. It wasn’t much but it did keep me alive. Fortunately, once my body became accustomed to having almost no food, the hunger kind of just went away. 

That particular morning (the one when I didn’t expect to wake up) was the day after I ingested one of the questionable mushrooms. I was awoken partially by the breeze and partially by the sound of non-forest creature sounds. I hadn’t heard any human sounds in so long, it actually startled me. For reasons I didn’t fully understand, I wanted to get up and run away but there was no energy for that. It took a minute to realize I didn’t need to run because this person may be able help me. I laid there thinking I should stand up or make a sound, any sound, but I just couldn’t. My body was heavy as a pile of wet concrete and my voice was completely gone. I was just too weak to do anything to help myself. I knew this was probably my last chance for survival, yet all I did was lay there, praying that I hadn’t done a very good job at concealing myself. 

I was fading in and out, only semi-conscious. The footsteps were getting closer. I tried and tried to will myself to move, and I imagined that this is what being paralyzed would feel like. My exhaustion was like a tranquilizer that I could no longer fight the effects of, and my eyes closed once again. When they opened next, my blurred gaze fell on a man standing maybe ten feet away from me. A tall man, dressed in camouflage from head to toe, carrying a gun. He looked dangerous but nearly jumped out of his boots when I looked at him. Judging by the look in his eyes, he was probably more scared than I was. It didn’t matter either way since I was pretty sure this was the day I was going to die. How I was going to die was kind of irrelevant, so I closed my eyes and drifted off again.  

Over the next several hours I came in and out of consciousness, deep in the throes of what felt much like a fever dream. Once, upon waking, he was standing over me with his pistol in hand. At some point I heard him talking on the phone. Next, I remember being in his truck and he was offering me a sip of water. Then I slept for a long time. In spite of being basically kidnapped by a gun-toting stranger, it was the first peaceful sleep I could recall having. I still didn’t know what his intentions were, but I didn’t care. I was satisfied with knowing I didn’t have to worry about being torn apart by wild animals. 

After hours of driving, we arrived at what I assumed was his home. We were in a pretty busy neighborhood, so I started to relax. How nefarious could his intentions be, here in the daylight with some ragtag kids riding their bikes down the street? Then, I heard the voice of a woman approaching the truck. She wasn’t close enough for me to make out what she was saying, but the man replied, “Maybe I should’ve just put him out of his misery.” That’s when I opened my eyes and saw the lady looking directly at me. She had the lightest eyes, which were the most interesting mix of blue-green-grey. Based on the worry I could see in her eyes, I must have looked a mess, even though she tried to disguise it with a soft smile. The kind of smile you put on to give a bit of confidence to someone who is just about to die. I wasn’t expecting her to touch me, but she reached out and gently put her hand on the side of my face and said, “Oh, he’s going to be just fine.” At that moment, I thought “If I had a mom, I would want one just like her.” 

That was 12 years ago. The lady with the soft smile and the camo man are now my family. It has been a long road, recovering from the physical injuries and dealing with the emotional scars from not knowing why I was left in the woods. Why did my family leave me there all alone to die? Sometimes, when they think I’m sleeping, I hear mom and dad talking about what they think might have happened. I don’t care about that because I can’t imagine having a better family. I have a lot of emotional and behavioral issues that have affected their lives. Still, they have shown me true unconditional love when anyone else would have given up a thousand times. I know I haven’t been the best dog they’ve ever had, but I love them so very much and I’m so lucky I was strong enough to wake up that morning.  

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Dames Point At Night: A Short Story

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I have been taking a Creative Writing class and I find I am quite enjoying it. I’m not quite sure how creative my writing is, but I am being forced to take a stab at fiction. You get to suffer the fruits of my labor.

Dames Point At Night

Sophie was strong in ways others struggled with. Always able to remain in control during a crisis, perpetually working hard to stay above water financially, doling out advice to the dozens who constantly sought her opinion or approval. Many times, she felt she missed her calling to be a Life Coach. This is probably why she’s my best friend. I need all the life coaching I can get. 

Before the cancer diagnosis, Sophie had finally reached a point in life where she felt happy and optimistic about growing older. She left the desire for youthful perfection behind and embraced the extra few pounds, the greying hair, and the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. It was a fair exchange for the anxiety and self-criticism she experienced in earlier years. As fate would have it, the newfound self-acceptance was cut short and replaced by regret. Sophie spent the better part of the last year battling cancer and thinking about all the things in life she wished she had accomplished when she had the chance. But now her body is tired, her heart is exhausted, and she no longer has any worries about things like never buying a house on the river or taking a monthlong trip to Europe. None of that matters now. She just wants peace. Peace, and one last trip down the river at night.  

She hadn’t been able to get out of bed for two weeks, so we were all surprised when she woke up today and asked to go for a boat ride tonight. We had to figure out the logistics, but it all came together. David, her husband who adores her, and I carried her down the dock to the boat. It struck me like lightning during a summer thunderstorm how she weighs next to nothing now. She insisted on sitting on the bow instead of in the seats at the back of the boat. She said she likes riding on the bow at night because the lights from the bridge twinkle on the water like fairy lights, and you can see it best if you sit up front with your legs dangling over the edge. She isn’t strong enough to sit up here on her own, so I’m sitting behind her, my arms tightly around her waist while she leans back against me, our legs dangling over the side. I feel kind of special because this might be the first time in her life that she’s allowed herself to lean on anyone, literally or figuratively.  

It’s hurricane season, and the weather has been violent the last few days.  But tonight, the river is like glass and the air is just warm enough to feel good against the skin. The boat is gliding across the water like a bird soaring in a gentle breeze. David is at the helm, taking care to visit all the spots he knows she loves. Every now and then, he slows to an idle and says, “Remember the time…?”. Each time he finishes recounting a memory, she nods her head and says “Yes, that was a good day.” We went on like this for about two hours before Sophie turned her head towards me and said, “See? Isn’t it pretty?” A moment later, in barely more than a whisper, I heard her say, “Today was a good day”. I felt her body go limp against mine as she took her last breath. She was right. The lights twinkling on the water do look just like fairy lights. 

Cancer

Be Careful What You Wish For: Bonus Tummy Tuck Edition

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All my life, up to about 40 years old when menopause decided to wreak havoc on my body, I was always thin. I ate like a truck driver, but the metabolism of youth kept me under 130 pounds. If you would’ve told me the number on the scale would start with a 2 one day, I would’ve told you that you have clearly lost your damn mind. Then, last summer, both the first AND second number on the scale was 2. Not only was my weight out of control, but I developed what is referred to as an “apron belly”. This should not be confused with a FUPA. If you know, you know.

Photo courtesy of https://centreforsurgery.com/apronectomy-to-remove-loose-tummy-skin/

Needless to say, I was not pleased with myself. My feet and knees hurt, I didn’t feel cute in my clothes, and I hated to idea of putting on a bathing suit. I started moving a little more and bought a Pilates reformer. I definitely haven’t been diligent, but something is better than nothing. When I started back to school, I also went back on my ADHD medication which eliminates my food cravings. I managed to lose 35 pounds but the belly was still not what I wanted it to be. I started considering having a tummy tuck, but the $20,000 price tag was a little steep for a cosmetic procedure. I was resigned to living with a smooshy little belly flap that loved nothing more but to keep my pants from lying flat in the front.

Then Stage 1 Invasive Ductal Carcinoma of the left breast entered the chat. Unfortunately, this is not my first experience with cancer. It’s not even my first experience with breast cancer. But it’s going to be fine. This is fine.

Comic panel from “On Fire” by KC Green.

I’ve met with the surgeons. Well, two of them. I’m told there will be four surgeons in all and about 8 hours of surgery for my double mastectomy and immediate DIEP flap reconstruction. Basically, both breasts will be removed and fat and blood supply from my lower abdomen will be used to rebuild and restore my boobs to all of their D-cup glory. I won’t have any nipples but I’m getting that tummy tuck I wanted… and, thanks to the Women’s Health and Cancer Rights Act, it will be covered by insurance!

So… thank you, cancer?

Until next time… tight lines and happy minds!!!

Trouble In Paradise: When Things Don’t Go As Planned
Fishing

Trouble In Paradise: When Things Don’t Go As Planned

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My husband and I took a trip down to Key Largo recently. We towed the boat down so we could do some fishing. Lots of fishing. It was to be my last hurrah before my upcoming surgery that will put me out of commission for the remainder of the summer. Naturally, I had high expectations for this trip. SPOILER ALERT: My expectations were a bit too lofty.

We arrived very late Tuesday night to 20 mph winds. We were too exhausted to think much about anything, so we went directly to bed. Wednesday morning we awoke to the same windy weather. Neither of us felt great so we took the day to fuel up the boat, buy some groceries for the week, and take a look around the little community where we stayed. Most of the residences were small park model campers that are fixed up to look like tiny homes. They are situated on campsite sized lots and each are on a canal with a boat slip out back. That was the main feature that drew me to the property.

This isn’t the one we stayed in but it was my favorite. We found out that another unit in the community just sold for $380,000!

We woke up Thursday to 18mph winds but I was determined to get out on the water. We loaded up and set out to find some fish. Manatee Bay was a little choppy but, in my opinion, nothing of concern. The concern came later when we had to cross Blackwater Sound. If you had told me the waters would be so crazy in a bay, I would’ve never believed you. We knew it was a little windy and we noticed there were no other boats (I mean zero) but it didn’t register that we possibly shouldn’t be out there. When we returned home later that afternoon, I checked the data and found out we were dealing with 4.5 foot waves. We also learned the reason there were no boats is because most of the charters called off their trips due to the conditions. But man was that boat ride fun!

First outing of the trip. Manatee Bay, Key Largo, FL. Not the sunny skies and clear waters you might expect. I don’t have any photos of the insanity we experienced in Blackwater Sound

The only bad thing about the conditions is we got absolutely soaked, I mean legitimately drenched, every time we moved to a new spot. I can’t tell you how many times I reapplied my sunscreen due to it being rinsed away. Also, fun fact – I love the way may hair looks after being in saltwater. It made me reluctant to wash it every evening.

Drenched 3-5 times per day. I wouldn’t want to do this during the winter.

We woke up Friday feeling optimistic about the day ahead. We were going to head out in another direction and find some other spots I was interested in. That’s where the trouble all started. I will summarize: GPS auto guidance wouldn’t work because there is apparently a conflict of some sort in the system, all straps on the bimini top broke except one, and on the last day the trolling motor battery didn’t charge.

This is where I will acknowledge that when things don’t go the way I imagine, it really pisses me off. I always heard you can’t catch fish when you’re angry, and I found this to be true. Mostly because I was just too aggravated to even bother with the usual things like losing a leader to the rocks and having to re-rig my line. So on my last hurrah I spent more time lounging and napping on the boat than I did with a line in the water. As my mom always said, I cut my nose off to spite my face. I wish I could say it’s not true but it totally is.

All the mishaps aside, it was a good (and much needed) trip. We had some fun and learned a lot of things that will help us the next time we tow the boat to a new destination. Tomorrow, I get to log on for work and see what kind of disasters await me. I estimate around 9:15am I will be pining for Key Largo and all of the technical difficulties that went along with it.

Until next time… tight lines and happy minds!!!

My Origin Story – Part 1: The Old Man And The Sea
Fishing

My Origin Story – Part 1: The Old Man And The Sea

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1974. Look at those knobby knees! And who thought it was a good idea to bring a giant fish in the house?

You may have figured out by now that I am addicted to fishing. I wasn’t always like this. For most of my life, I was bookish and cared nothing for the outdoors. I learned to read before I started kindergarten and it just escalated from there. We will talk more about that later.

Like I said, I cared nothing for the outdoors. I just wasn’t built to be exposed to the elements. When I was a child in the 1970s, we never had cars with air conditioning. If it was above 85 degrees (which is most days in Jacksonville, FL) and we were going somewhere in the car, my mom would have to stop and take me in K-Mart to cool off. If we didn’t get to the air conditioning in time, I would get the dry heaves. When I got a bit older I realized my intolerance of the sun and heat is because I don’t sweat like the average human. I just get hot, turn red, and feel like I might die.

All of this is to say it is really weird that I risk sunburns almost every weekend just to go fishing… outdoors… in the boiling heat. The kind of heat that makes walking outside feel like walking into a convection oven. When the wind blows, it’s like God just turned on the biggest Conair blow dryer that ever existed. It is absolutely miserable. Yet somehow it becomes bearable as long as a fishing pole is involved.

My dad and grandfather a really long time ago. Late 60s if I had to guess.

My dad was always an avid fisherman. It was really the only hobby he ever had. He was always fishing with his dad or one of his friends. Until his dad and, one by one, his fishing friends all passed away. Gene, Randy, Martin… all gone. Dad was really left with nothing. He and my mom never developed a relationship where they spent time together. They actually spend more energy trying to not be in the same room together than anything. Sure, a lot of the way his life turned out is his fault. He has no filter, he is offensive in many ways, he can’t go too long without smoking a cigarette. By the time he turned 75, all he had was naps and sitting on the porch watching the birds while he rolled cigarettes.

Even though he isn’t fit to take out in public, he’s still my dad. I found myself feeling very sad for him and for the years of my life that had passed with no real connection to him. My mom has always been a different story. She likes to go everywhere and do everything. I always made sure she and I had fun vacations together, went shopping, or to the movies. But it was time to find some common ground with dad. If I didn’t, I knew he would be gone one day and I would always regret not spending time with him.

So, last year, in April, I asked him if he wanted to go fishing. It was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. As it turned out, all I had to do was low-key threaten to not take him fishing anymore if he didn’t behave himself. Last Spring and Summer, we went fishing 3 or 4 days a week. Then I bought a boat, and it just got crazier from there. His friends always called him The Fishmaster because he was so good at it and now we have learned that I’m pretty good at it too! I only went fishing with him maybe 5 times in my life yet I realize how much I learned from him during those trips. I can set a hook like nobody’s business, putting bait on the hook, getting a catfish off the hook without getting stung – all from dad.

The whole situation is kind of bittersweet, though. He is in a lot of pain with arthritis and is just tired in general. There are lots of days he chooses not to go fishing just because it’s too much effort. I find myself thinking about how many places we could have gone, how many different types of fish we could’ve caught, if I had figured this out sooner. But you know what they say—better late than never, right?

When it comes down to it, and he sails away down the eternal lazy river, I hope this time we’ve spent together, waiting to see the tips of our rods move just the tiniest bit, will be enough to keep my regrets at bay.

Until next time… tight lines and happy minds!

Of All The Things You Could Collect, Cancer Ribbons Should Not Be An Option
Cancer

Of All The Things You Could Collect, Cancer Ribbons Should Not Be An Option

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Eventually I will get around to telling my whole story, but today lets talk about being told you have cancer for the fourth time. SPOILER ALERT: It. Is. DEVASTATING.

Cool sticker available at www.spreadshirt.com

I guess it was about 19 years ago – the first time I heard the words “You have cancer.” I think at that point I was too new to the cancer game to be overly concerned. It was caught early and the surgery was no big deal. After a couple years, I didn’t think too much about it anymore. The second diagnosis, a few years later, was exponentially more serious. It left me with a lot of mental and emotional baggage, along with some physical issues that are manageable for the most part. The third diagnosis came out of thin air, completely unexpected. Caught early, I did what I had to do and moved along like a champ. I tend to be very stoic and was really proud of myself for not falling to pieces. And I thought to myself “Certainly this is the last time, right?”

That was two and a half years ago, and it clearly wasn’t the last time.

Last month, I received a Stage 1a Invasive Ductal Carcinoma diagnosis. Basically, my left breast is plotting to kill me. In the past, with an early diagnosis, I was much more nonchalant about it. This time, it seems to be hitting a bit differently. I’m in better shape emotionally, physically, and mentally than I have been in years. I feel stronger in every way than maybe I ever have in my life. I have so many things I’m looking forward to doing and am on my way to accomplishing things I have put off for years.

I’ve been contemplating whether it’s so devastating this time because it’s the fourth diagnosis OR because I feel like I have so much more to lose? I do find myself wondering how many more times can I do this before I run out of luck. Then I try to remind myself that I shouldn’t spend too much energy worrying about cancer because my genetic predisposition to high cholesterol is probably what will kill me.

I guess I had better start taking my rosuvastatin a bit more regularly.

Until next time… tight lines and happy minds!