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Sharon J. Harrison
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Picking Apples In The Sunshine
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published
2019
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3 editions
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“Feeling like a displaced person Laura struggles with being defined by her status as a widow.
“Distracted by the word widow, which had taken root, budded and bloomed in her mind like a weed in a vacant lot, Laura opened the dictionary on her desk. Flipping past thousands of words, she used in every-day communication with family, friends, and acquaintances – those little black letters, symbols to express thoughts for the ear to hear and the heart to feel – she wondered, What words gave expression to her pain? What words described the sense of something lurking inside her, or the dark shadows stalking her mind?
Widow: a five-letter word, preceded by words like wide, and widget and followed by words like widow’s peak, widow’s weeds, and widower.
This little word – widow- in small case, had no business masquerading as a noun: a person, place or thing. In contrast, - widget, a small mechanical object, not a feeling thing, just an object – seemed an honest noun.
Widow is not an object, she thought. “It’s a word so thin as to be nothing but a wisp of breath passing through one’s vocal cords and disappearing almost imperceptibly between one’s lips. It has no life of its own. It’s a mere label, and it could just as well be a piece of paper saying, chocolate cookies or best before date.”
― Picking Apples in the Sunshine
“Distracted by the word widow, which had taken root, budded and bloomed in her mind like a weed in a vacant lot, Laura opened the dictionary on her desk. Flipping past thousands of words, she used in every-day communication with family, friends, and acquaintances – those little black letters, symbols to express thoughts for the ear to hear and the heart to feel – she wondered, What words gave expression to her pain? What words described the sense of something lurking inside her, or the dark shadows stalking her mind?
Widow: a five-letter word, preceded by words like wide, and widget and followed by words like widow’s peak, widow’s weeds, and widower.
This little word – widow- in small case, had no business masquerading as a noun: a person, place or thing. In contrast, - widget, a small mechanical object, not a feeling thing, just an object – seemed an honest noun.
Widow is not an object, she thought. “It’s a word so thin as to be nothing but a wisp of breath passing through one’s vocal cords and disappearing almost imperceptibly between one’s lips. It has no life of its own. It’s a mere label, and it could just as well be a piece of paper saying, chocolate cookies or best before date.”
― Picking Apples in the Sunshine
“His eyes followed Laura’s movements down the hall. She had come out of a side room and was greeting the residents as she went. Listening and chatting, while bending down to give her attention to someone in a wheelchair who was reaching up to stroke Laura’s head, calling out,” Missy, missy!”
Laura responded, smiling, standing back up and putting her arm around the frail body.
Several residents in wheelchairs along the hallway reached out to Laura, Jacob could sense the yearning for attention. At the time of life when all else falls away, and the body fails, and the mind retracts, what is left but the hunger for human touch? Long gone is the appetite of the body, but not forgotten the tender touch and the gentle voice, in the cradle of a mother’s arms. Jacob, too, understood this yearning and more keenly now than ever.
Jacob saw the elderly who were alone being revived by Laura as she chatted, acknowledging their needs: each responding like a wilting plant feeling relief from unexpected rain. Watching Laura nurture, through her words and gestures, triggered a deep emotion in him.
He wanted to receive her touch, her smile, her comfort to lift him when life seemed to retract and roll downhill. He desired to gather her close, nurture her and raise her up when life’s unexpected turns shook her world.
Will we get to that? he wondered?”
―
Laura responded, smiling, standing back up and putting her arm around the frail body.
Several residents in wheelchairs along the hallway reached out to Laura, Jacob could sense the yearning for attention. At the time of life when all else falls away, and the body fails, and the mind retracts, what is left but the hunger for human touch? Long gone is the appetite of the body, but not forgotten the tender touch and the gentle voice, in the cradle of a mother’s arms. Jacob, too, understood this yearning and more keenly now than ever.
Jacob saw the elderly who were alone being revived by Laura as she chatted, acknowledging their needs: each responding like a wilting plant feeling relief from unexpected rain. Watching Laura nurture, through her words and gestures, triggered a deep emotion in him.
He wanted to receive her touch, her smile, her comfort to lift him when life seemed to retract and roll downhill. He desired to gather her close, nurture her and raise her up when life’s unexpected turns shook her world.
Will we get to that? he wondered?”
―
“Laura I am not careless about the feelings I have for you. I never expected to find myself wanting to share my life with another person again. As the years passed, I thought it was most unlikely, and now I see myself believing that to love someone is a connection to the deepest levels of the human heart. It isn’t about analyzing why or deciding if it is the right thing to do…, It is beyond that.”
In a less serious tone, he asked, “Laura, do you think you could trust your heart? Could you just let soar whatever rises naturally in you, when you are not asking yourself, ‘What if?’
“I’m a patient guy, Laura. You may not be right where I am, but I am willing to wait until you are. I want you to be the love I could never forget, nor would want to forget, and I am eager to accept what comes with this kind of commitment.”
Laura felt the uplift Jacob’s words brought her. Her heart fluttered, yet like a bird about to fly, she grasped it in her mind and arrested its flight.
Jacob sensed the distance she was putting between them. Glancing down, he saw her hand, slightly splayed, lightly touching his chest It was a clear message, a barrier to him reaching out and gently folding her to him. But he covered his hand over hers and placed it over her heart.
“Can you listen to your heart? It likes me.” He pleaded.”
―
In a less serious tone, he asked, “Laura, do you think you could trust your heart? Could you just let soar whatever rises naturally in you, when you are not asking yourself, ‘What if?’
“I’m a patient guy, Laura. You may not be right where I am, but I am willing to wait until you are. I want you to be the love I could never forget, nor would want to forget, and I am eager to accept what comes with this kind of commitment.”
Laura felt the uplift Jacob’s words brought her. Her heart fluttered, yet like a bird about to fly, she grasped it in her mind and arrested its flight.
Jacob sensed the distance she was putting between them. Glancing down, he saw her hand, slightly splayed, lightly touching his chest It was a clear message, a barrier to him reaching out and gently folding her to him. But he covered his hand over hers and placed it over her heart.
“Can you listen to your heart? It likes me.” He pleaded.”
―
“Feeling like a displaced person Laura struggles with being defined by her status as a widow.
“Distracted by the word widow, which had taken root, budded and bloomed in her mind like a weed in a vacant lot, Laura opened the dictionary on her desk. Flipping past thousands of words, she used in every-day communication with family, friends, and acquaintances – those little black letters, symbols to express thoughts for the ear to hear and the heart to feel – she wondered, What words gave expression to her pain? What words described the sense of something lurking inside her, or the dark shadows stalking her mind?
Widow: a five-letter word, preceded by words like wide, and widget and followed by words like widow’s peak, widow’s weeds, and widower.
This little word – widow- in small case, had no business masquerading as a noun: a person, place or thing. In contrast, - widget, a small mechanical object, not a feeling thing, just an object – seemed an honest noun.
Widow is not an object, she thought. “It’s a word so thin as to be nothing but a wisp of breath passing through one’s vocal cords and disappearing almost imperceptibly between one’s lips. It has no life of its own. It’s a mere label, and it could just as well be a piece of paper saying, chocolate cookies or best before date.”
― Picking Apples in the Sunshine
“Distracted by the word widow, which had taken root, budded and bloomed in her mind like a weed in a vacant lot, Laura opened the dictionary on her desk. Flipping past thousands of words, she used in every-day communication with family, friends, and acquaintances – those little black letters, symbols to express thoughts for the ear to hear and the heart to feel – she wondered, What words gave expression to her pain? What words described the sense of something lurking inside her, or the dark shadows stalking her mind?
Widow: a five-letter word, preceded by words like wide, and widget and followed by words like widow’s peak, widow’s weeds, and widower.
This little word – widow- in small case, had no business masquerading as a noun: a person, place or thing. In contrast, - widget, a small mechanical object, not a feeling thing, just an object – seemed an honest noun.
Widow is not an object, she thought. “It’s a word so thin as to be nothing but a wisp of breath passing through one’s vocal cords and disappearing almost imperceptibly between one’s lips. It has no life of its own. It’s a mere label, and it could just as well be a piece of paper saying, chocolate cookies or best before date.”
― Picking Apples in the Sunshine
“His eyes followed Laura’s movements down the hall. She had come out of a side room and was greeting the residents as she went. Listening and chatting, while bending down to give her attention to someone in a wheelchair who was reaching up to stroke Laura’s head, calling out,” Missy, missy!”
Laura responded, smiling, standing back up and putting her arm around the frail body.
Several residents in wheelchairs along the hallway reached out to Laura, Jacob could sense the yearning for attention. At the time of life when all else falls away, and the body fails, and the mind retracts, what is left but the hunger for human touch? Long gone is the appetite of the body, but not forgotten the tender touch and the gentle voice, in the cradle of a mother’s arms. Jacob, too, understood this yearning and more keenly now than ever.
Jacob saw the elderly who were alone being revived by Laura as she chatted, acknowledging their needs: each responding like a wilting plant feeling relief from unexpected rain. Watching Laura nurture, through her words and gestures, triggered a deep emotion in him.
He wanted to receive her touch, her smile, her comfort to lift him when life seemed to retract and roll downhill. He desired to gather her close, nurture her and raise her up when life’s unexpected turns shook her world.
Will we get to that? he wondered?”
―
Laura responded, smiling, standing back up and putting her arm around the frail body.
Several residents in wheelchairs along the hallway reached out to Laura, Jacob could sense the yearning for attention. At the time of life when all else falls away, and the body fails, and the mind retracts, what is left but the hunger for human touch? Long gone is the appetite of the body, but not forgotten the tender touch and the gentle voice, in the cradle of a mother’s arms. Jacob, too, understood this yearning and more keenly now than ever.
Jacob saw the elderly who were alone being revived by Laura as she chatted, acknowledging their needs: each responding like a wilting plant feeling relief from unexpected rain. Watching Laura nurture, through her words and gestures, triggered a deep emotion in him.
He wanted to receive her touch, her smile, her comfort to lift him when life seemed to retract and roll downhill. He desired to gather her close, nurture her and raise her up when life’s unexpected turns shook her world.
Will we get to that? he wondered?”
―
“Laura I am not careless about the feelings I have for you. I never expected to find myself wanting to share my life with another person again. As the years passed, I thought it was most unlikely, and now I see myself believing that to love someone is a connection to the deepest levels of the human heart. It isn’t about analyzing why or deciding if it is the right thing to do…, It is beyond that.”
In a less serious tone, he asked, “Laura, do you think you could trust your heart? Could you just let soar whatever rises naturally in you, when you are not asking yourself, ‘What if?’
“I’m a patient guy, Laura. You may not be right where I am, but I am willing to wait until you are. I want you to be the love I could never forget, nor would want to forget, and I am eager to accept what comes with this kind of commitment.”
Laura felt the uplift Jacob’s words brought her. Her heart fluttered, yet like a bird about to fly, she grasped it in her mind and arrested its flight.
Jacob sensed the distance she was putting between them. Glancing down, he saw her hand, slightly splayed, lightly touching his chest It was a clear message, a barrier to him reaching out and gently folding her to him. But he covered his hand over hers and placed it over her heart.
“Can you listen to your heart? It likes me.” He pleaded.”
―
In a less serious tone, he asked, “Laura, do you think you could trust your heart? Could you just let soar whatever rises naturally in you, when you are not asking yourself, ‘What if?’
“I’m a patient guy, Laura. You may not be right where I am, but I am willing to wait until you are. I want you to be the love I could never forget, nor would want to forget, and I am eager to accept what comes with this kind of commitment.”
Laura felt the uplift Jacob’s words brought her. Her heart fluttered, yet like a bird about to fly, she grasped it in her mind and arrested its flight.
Jacob sensed the distance she was putting between them. Glancing down, he saw her hand, slightly splayed, lightly touching his chest It was a clear message, a barrier to him reaching out and gently folding her to him. But he covered his hand over hers and placed it over her heart.
“Can you listen to your heart? It likes me.” He pleaded.”
―
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