Home for me, is you. Home is not a place, there are no bricks and mortar. Home for me is the hope of you. A person to lie with, a friend to laugh with and a person to always come back to. Home is not a safe place where the doors are closed and the beds are made. Home is you, where ever you maybe. A knowing look, a hand to hold, a smile to comfort. Home is a person. That person is you. You are my home.
Monthly Archives: January 2012
Lucy Hills, at first, had looked perfectly normal. Short brown hair, gentle curves hidden by a floral summer dress, and little feet dressed in pretty pumps. Yes, from behind, Lucy Hills had looked perfection.
They had met under an August sun, in a London beer garden. The cider had been flowing and a warm glow covered happy faces. As he approached her, he had heard laughter. A girly shy laugh, that had it have been Lucy’s, it would have been mesmerizing. As it turned out, the laugh belonged to Sam. A doctor from Oxford who had a boyfriend of six years. Lucy laughed like a donkey.
It was fair to say that nothing about Lucy Hills was quite as it seemed.
The way she talked had instantly annoyed him. Her right arm moved non stop in a strange and excited manner, and one of her eyes was definitely lazy, but she had taken an instant liking to him. He could see it in her blushes. So naturally he flirted back, and like any red-blooded male in their late twenties, he had kissed her. Then slept with her.
He blames Magners cider for this action, and has since sent several strongly worded emails to the company’s marketing department. Warnings should be issued on all bottles, drinking Magners cider can lead to acts of pure craziness. With life long repercussions.
The problem you see was this. There was something about Lucy Hills, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t help but love, love is a strong word, like. There was something he couldn’t help but like about Lucy Hills.
On their first date he had met her for a quiet drink in her local pub. All that day he had hoped and prayed that she would call and cancel. She never did, and it never occurred to him to cancel it.
By their fifth date he knew several things about Lucy Hills. He knew she would be wearing her statement floral dress with shoulder pads and a little black cardigan. She would always have on matching underwear and a small sliver locket would always hang around her neck . A locket that contained nothing in its shell, but was a gift from a mother she would only ever mention once.
Loving Lucy Hill’s would be the strangest relationship of his life. Like a scale, it balanced out beautifully. His desires to run were as strong as his desires to stay. There would be times when all he wanted to do was reach across the table and strangle her. Then at other times he felt nothing but love. Love, is a strong word.
He did, he loved her. He loved her naughty smile, her compassion. He loved her little gasp’s at the TV or cinema screen when ever she got swept away with a story. He loved the way she held his hand, gentle and light. Yes, love is a strong word, and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, love is the thing he felt for Lucy Hills, and that is the reason she had to go.
The only problem was… getting rid of Lucy Hills, was as difficult as loving her.
TO BE CONTINUED…
The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.
Here’s an excerpt:
A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 1,400 times in 2011. If it were a cable car, it would take about 23 trips to carry that many people.