STORYTIME TAPESTRY

The Newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness throughout the world

Sept 18, 2005 

Now on to the good stuff..........

Today's Queue Stories
~**~**~**~

 Every Breath I Take

 Sharlett F. Hunt

  I was just sitting in my recliner this morning when it occurred to me just how blessed I am.  I was just suddenly made aware of all that I have. 

  I was thinking about all the victims of 9/11, the Tsunami, and so recently Hurricane Katrina, that had lost everything they had in their lives, loved ones, their children, their homes and businesses, even their sanity and yet, somehow most of them manage to start over.  I wonder if I have that kind of determination or whatever it is these brave people have. I pray that I never have to find out.

  As I sat there, comfortable, drinking a nice cup of hot tea and enjoying the air conditioning that was keeping me cool, I felt the need to count all the blessings I enjoy on a daily basis.  I know I must be grateful for even the smallest of these  things that I sometimes take for granted.

  I am thankful that my bills are paid, at least the one that covers the air conditioner.  There are so many without electricity that I am ashamed to say that sometimes I complain about the heat.  I have shelter in the form of an old mobile home to get inside when the weather is too hot or too cold.  I have a comfortable bed to sleep in and  clean sheets.  I obviously have plenty to eat because I am not skinny or hungry. I have everything I need and some of my wants. 

  I am so thankful for my two animal kids, Precious, my cat and Sweetie, my little parakeet.  I read about all the pets that are lost or dead as a result of these tragedies and I wonder how I would feel if my little furry and feathery loved ones were suddenly jerked from me. 

  Or what if it had been my grandsons?  My little grandsons are safe and sound in their respective homes today, not stuck in some storm shelter or worse, separated from their family.  What agony that has to be on those poor mothers.

  Sometimes we forget what we have until we lose it and that is our nature, I guess.  I am going to try to ensure that doesn't happen to me.  Everything that God has given can be taken away in the blink of an eye.  We are only guaranteed this very moment, this second.

  Right now I am grateful for every breath I take.  As I breathe in and out I am becoming aware that is the very core of my physical being, my breath.  Without it, I would cease to exist. Thank you, Lord for my breath.

Sharlette863 @aol.com


About Me:

I was born in Alabama, the middle of seven children. At about age four we moved to Central Florida and I have lived here most of my life. I am a Viet Nam Era Veteran. I have always enjoyed writing and as I get older it seems to come more naturally to me. I believe everyone has many stories inside them and some are blessed to be able to share them.
 

~**~**~ 

 Jaws

Sharon Bryant

Ah.....a heart tug day on Father's Day for me.  But not for my father.........but for my son.

I read on my calendar that on Monday, June 20, in 1975, Steven Spielberg's movie JAWS opened in theaters. 

Andy was three-years-old that year, and he saw the ads for the movie.  He begged me to take him to see it.  I had heard it was very graphic and felt he was too young to view the huge shark.

I never let him see the movie, but he talked about it until the day he died.  The night before he died,  he handed me the piece of paper folded and asked that I put it in the china closet and look at it later and that's what I did.

It wasn't until weeks after his death I remembered that piece of paper.  When I took it out of the china closet and opened it, I was astonished at what Andy had drawn.  On the paper was a perfectly shaped shark.

That shark was engraved on his gravestone.  I had the monument company take that drawing and make two sharks on each side of Andy's photo on the stone.

Andy always told me when he grew up he wanted to work with sharks.

Sharon Bryant

1946 @bellsouth.net

About Me:

 I am Sharon Bryant, 59 years old and reside in Alabama.

I lost my child in 1977 when he was five and I write
articles on bereavement often.

I am a chocolate/candy maker and also a wood crafter and knitter.

I am married to a wonderful man, and have two remaining children, a daughter 25,
Amy, and a second son, Randy, age 22.

My main goal in life is to help those who
have lost a child. My website is: www.angelsremembered.tk

  ~**~**~

The Trip

by Rajendra Pradhan

'I am definitely going to enjoy this trip', Jiteshbhai thought as he took the window seat. Mostly business men traveled on this train. But today he found the compartment occupied by five comely girls. He guessed from their conversation that they were going back to college in Mumbai. All doing MBA at some fancy institute, it seemed. Now Jiteshbhai didn't plan on doing anything naughty. He was no sex maniac. He rather considered himself a respectable businessman in his forties. Still, it is a pleasure having young girls around. Beats traveling with stock brokers and grain merchants, thought Jiteshbhai though he was one himself.

One of the girls, the bespectacled one, started reading a book. Her friends were chirping away, mostly in English, ignoring him. He could understand only some of it. 'I too should read. Something English. Would look good.' Thinking thus, Jiteshbhai pulled a copy of Stardust from his bag and proceeded to look at the pictures. But when he sensed the girl next to him looking at the magazine, he put it aside.

'Sleeveless tops do look good!' He thought as he stole a glance at the girl opposite him. She was looking out of window. Cupping her chin in her palm, elbow resting on her jeans-clad thigh, she leaned forward unaware of the view she was presenting to Jiteshbhai. He looked on, not wishing to look as if he was looking.

???Can I have a look at the magazine, uncle???? Jiteshbhai was startled by the question. It was the girl next to him. ???Of course,??? he offered her the magazine. ???I am Jitesh??? he added, dropping the ???bhai???. The girl smiled sweetly and said ???thank you Jitesh uncle???.

Now that he thought he was caught looking, Jiteshbhai closed his eyes in embarrassment and slumped in his seat. He had not been in such young girls' company for a long time. Breathing deeply, he inhaled their mingled perfumes. He was more than content to just hear their young voices, flipping the pages and laughing aloud. ???See  this hairstyle! Looks strange, no???? ???I think it looks cute!??? They went on.

Jiteshbhai remembered his youth. Seemed so distant now. He always cursed himself for not being brave enough with girls. He finally married a girl of his parents' choice and took charge of the family business, a grain shop. Jiteshbhai tried and expanded the business slowly. He had to make numerous trips to Mumbai for various permits. Once on such a trip he had chanced upon just such a girl, alone with him in their compartment. It had been a rare occasion with so few passengers. Past midnight, the girl had been sleeping blissfully under her shawl. Jiteshbhai's intentions were never bad, he now convinced himself. But the ticket checker had thought otherwise. He abhorred the memory and shut it out with some effort.

Now, growing restless in company of five attractive girls, he wanted to talk to them, impress them with his knowledge! But alas, his knowledge was limited to grains, their varieties, and prices. Even that he could not have talked about in fluent English, the language these girls seemed to prefer. He just pretended to be asleep and sat there with closed eyes.

Suddenly, Jiteshbhai was thrilled beyond his wildest imagination, as he felt the soft touch of a young female body pressing into him. Her scent from so close up sent his mind on a roller-coaster. He could feel her hair touching his shoulder. Then he heard a male voice, ???show your tickets please!???

The girl had moved close to Jiteshbhai for making space for the ticket checker, who now sat beside her and asked them to show their tickets. It was the bespectacled girl who handed him five tickets and said, ???he is not with us???, pointing to where Jiteshbhai had been sitting. And then she screamed.

***

The TC was very understanding. He consoled the girls, ???it is not a vicious type of ghost. It has never harmed anyone. It appears on this train some times. But it fears us ticket checkers. Twenty years ago a TC found him peeking under the shawl of a girl on this train. The guy panicked and jumped out of the stationary train! But he missed the platform and just then the train started. Poor fellow, got crushed. Don't worry. He has disappeared now.???

The girl holding the magazine was crying inconsolably. But Hema Malini was smiling on the cover of the June 1985 issue of Stardust.

Notes:

Stardust is a popular Indian film magazine.

Hema Malini was most popular Indian actress 20 years ago.

Bhai = brother. It is a custom among Gujarathi people to attach the suffix ???bhai??™ after a man??™s name.

TC= ticket checker

Rajendra Pradhan

rajendrapradhan@gmail.com

My Ryze page - http://www.ryze.com/go/praj59

My website - http://www.rajendrapradhan.com/

My blog - http://rajendrapradhan.blogspot.com

~**~**~

I Remember A Time

Maria Doherty

I remember a time when I could not speak my love to you. I looked down at you, all tousle headed golden curls and sleepy blue eyes, as you asked me to come back to bed.

I wanted so much to tell you I loved you with a passion that drove me nearly crazy in your presence and even crazier in your absence. I wanted to say yes when you asked me to be with you forever, to be the mother of the brood of children you wanted so much. I remember the hurt and bewildered look on your face, when stunned I laughed it off with some self-deprecating joke.

I am tongue tied, heart frozen in fear. I cannot speak those words because I cannot believe that you really love me. I hear your words; I blossom under your touch, but there is a dark place within me, a place where I do not love myself and therefore cannot permit myself to be loved. I am terrified that if I actually speak my love, you will disintegrate in front of me and I will have to face that  your presence in my life is a cruel delusion.

I am bereft of words as you take my hand and pull me down to you, covering me in the caress of your beautiful body. I feel so ugly beside you, so fat and ugly and infinitely unloveable. Even as your touch tells me that this is a lie, that dark place swallows me up and I know that  I will lose you, not because you do not love me, but because I do not love myself.

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Chief Writer: Sharon Bryant

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