A Sparkling Deck

by Patricia Cates

From where I was sitting that lazy August day, it looked as if fairy dust had been sprinkled all over the deck. The beige paint beneath my lounge chair seemed to be glimmering in the dappled light of a fading sun. At first I assumed it was caused by the way the light was playing on the paint itself, and that the glitter effect was the result of sunlight on some odd peeling paint flecks. Upon closer inspection I realized that there were no sparkles found anywhere else. The phenomenon seemed to be occurring solely under the shade of an old tree growing over the side of our very weathered deck. Perhaps the magical shine had nothing to do with the paint, and everything to do with the tree.

I further theorized that the entire south end, directly beneath this deciduous behemoth of sorts, had been bathed in a wash of some sort of sap. It seemed to be coating the leaves as well. I bent down to swab the deck with a finger to see if I could get some of it on my hands. Sure enough there was a thin, sheer, sticky film. The sparkles transferred easily to my hands. 

I so wanted my kids to see this, but they weren’t there at the moment. (Plus I really needed some eye witnesses to attest that there were REALLY PRETTY SPARKLES on our old deck.) They were down at the beach collecting shells and not due back for an hour. They’d be late if anything. I had only stayed behind to start making dinner. We were leaving at zero dark thirty, and that meant the shadows would no longer be dancing. Magic gone.

I ran and grabbed my iPhone and tried taking photos from numerous angles, but it just wouldn’t translate from eye to screen. No matter what position, or how much I zoomed, the image wouldn’t cooperate. There wasn’t enough light. You truly had to be there. I was so frustrated. I wanted to share the moment with my family, and show them the beauty I had found. If you have ever caught a glimpse of a blanket of snow, when light hits the crystals in just the right way, you surely know of the sparkle effect of which I speak.

I sat back down and decided to just enjoy the solitude and observe. There was a slight breeze and perfect temps. Birds were singing in the trees. (No kidding.) I was just about in a state of bliss when this occurrence got me to thinking about perspective. From another’s view, one sitting here could maybe become angered by the tree sap/sparkles. This could honestly be construed as somewhat of a mess. I sadly wondered if its magic could be denied in an instant, just like that. So with that thought, poof, my wonderful chair lounging spell was broken.

I soon found myself thinking about some imagined, stressed-out homeowner, cussing and complaining about the sticky sap everywhere. For him the tree might not be seen as beneficial for its contribution of fairy dust, but instead a nuisance. For now there would be more sanding to do, an added layer of work. Maybe the tree would have to come out, in order to prevent future unwanted clean-up and costly deck re-staining woes.

Then another type of person entirely came to mind. One who could be so hurried, that they might walk out onto that very same piece of deck, and never take a minute to sit down. That person would miss the magic all together. Sadly, most days that describes me. There’s always something to be done.  On this day I was merely taking a breather from the task at hand…food prep and the wiping down of countertops. I pondered a little further and realized that maybe this moment was just for me and me alone. Perhaps I needed to realize that downtime on a weekend getaway is actually needed and should occur. Most vacations I tend to spend worried about everybody else’s needs instead of decompressing…which is the purpose of getting away.  

The natural fact is…had there not been any light coming through the branches that afternoon, I would have never been able to experience that brief illusion of fairy dust. So there’s something to be said for timing. I just happened to be there at exactly the right time and place. The perspective from the chair I was seated in was of equal importance. It was all in the angle. Just lucky, I guess. Lucky to get me some rare, fresh, sappy sparkling perspective.

So the advice I have garnered from a seated position is this; enjoy your down time. Take whatever time you need to unwind, unplug and chill. Live in the moment. You just might find some magic lying right at your feet. And if you do…don’t get angry. It doesn’t always come in the form we wish.

Multiple Personality Dis... Our Constantly Changing Perspective

By Lacey Gunter

Hey MMWs, if you're anything like me, you have a complicated relationship with your manuscripts. Sometimes when I read one of my manuscripts I think it is awesome. I am sure it will make a great childrens book and I am really excited about trying to get it published.

A couple of months later I will read that same manuscript and think, "Uugh, what did I think was so great about this manuscript? It needs a lot of work" I will be disgusted with it and brain storm about how to fix it, or worse, not want to even to look at it or think about it.

Time will pass and someone will ask me about the same manuscript. I will pull it out to try and fix it and think "Hey, this manuscript is pretty good. Why did I think it was so bad? It was really funny." Then I will get excited about it all over again.

Whether the manuscript is truly good or not is difficult to say. It is also not the topic I want to write about. What interests me is how our perception of our writing and our stories is affected by our current emotional status, our outlook and the experiences were are having at the moment.

When we are grouchy or unhappy with ourselves or our current situation, that affects how we react to and interpret the things that happen to us.  It will also affect how we view our writing or our stories. Likewise when we are happy, excited, worried, whatever.

I am sure that this information comes as no surprise to any of you. But how often do we take this into consideration when we are getting feedback on our work from critique partners and reviewers? No matter how good our story or writing is, we should expect that some of that feedback we get will be negative; if for no other reason that the fact that the people who are looking at our work are human and will have good days and bad days that color the way they see and interpret the world.

So think about that the next time your get a critique or review that totally rips apart everything you have done. Stop, take a breath, calm down, go to sleep, and wake up and look at it from a new perspective. It is constantly changing.

The Window Seat

By Patricia Cates

Sunset over the Atlantic

Although I am probably still a bit jet lagged, I will tell you a story. A few weeks ago I was fortunate enough to spend 14 days in Italy with my best friend. I call her Cathy, better known as my 83 year old mother. She actually took me to Europe in order to fulfill a promise made over three decades ago. Her tales and photos of trips she had made overseas throughout the years, always came with the hype that we would someday experience it together. In the face of fleeting youth we got our passports in order and went. It was my first trip across the pond, and I can say without a doubt that it was absolutely the trip of a lifetime.

The most interesting aspect of this trip was that even though she generously footed the bill, she bestowed upon me something far more valuable. My dear mother gave me the coveted window seat.

This scenario got me to thinking that on a large plane, like those that fly across the Atlantic, not everyone can sit by a window. Only on small aircraft is there just one row of seats. In order for that giant bird in the sky to be balanced and get there safely, there must be a middle row. But who wants those seats? I know there are people who prefer the aisle due to its convenience. I am well into my middle years now and still desire the view out the window. Which poses the question:  When does one actually stop caring about having the window seat? How many times does a person have to have already flown to that same locale to no longer desire that rare view from the 30,000 feet? 

Although my mother has been on several European tours, she hadn’t been back in 15 years. With this being her "last trip" why didn’t both of us just book window seats?

Mont Blanc peaking in the distance

That’s when I realized that she gave me the window seat because she had wanted to see Europe from the sky one last time through my eyes. With me there she could experience seeing it again for the first time. I then understood that this vantage point was far more valuable to her than any reserved rate could ever be. I'm pretty sure the look on my face while flying over the Swiss Alps and seeing Mont Blanc for the first time was a key reason we went. 

It also dawned on me that perhaps the look on her daughter’s face while viewing the artwork inside the Vatican and the frescoes of Michael Angelo in the Sistine Chapel were equally as priceless. She had talked for years about the tears that filled her eyes when she looked up at centuries old frescoes, statues and depictions of the Savior. There were no words to describe such talent and magnificence. My mother wanted the opportunity to witness her daughter's face as she stood in awe.

Harbour in France

I do find clouds enchanting, however there was much more to be seen from those vast expanses of sky. We flew in by way of Frankfurt, on into Florence. On the way back to the U.S. we went via Rome. So in total we were able to view Great Britain and the Rhone River winding through the vast hills of Germany. On the way home we could actually see yachts anchored in the harbor of the French Riviera. I believe we also caught sight of some of Spain in the distance, although I am not sure where it ended or began. Our plane flew low along the deep azure of the Mediterranean coast and the view was spectacular.

My mother’s selfless example has inspired me to want to do the same for my children. In the future, if I am ever in the position to take a loved one on a trip that involves flying, I will undoubtedly make certain that they get the window seat. Even though I will be glued to that clear panel of glass , there's no doubt that it will be more rewarding to catch a glimpse it from behind their tresses. I look forward to someday watching their eyes marvel at the Lord's creations.
So for those who prefer the aisle, I think from now on I will presume you are all seasoned frequent flyers, and enjoy hearing the “oohs” and “aahs” of newbie travelers gasping at the enormity of it all. It is my wish that none of us ever tire of the view from above.