Writer/Reader Block

I haven't been in the mood.... Not really unique in the blogosphere... We all seem to experience shyt like that... Except for the veterans (Diva, Rashan, and the 365-Jameil...). But...ummm... I ain't the one....lol.



Time to get creative: New Beginnings Part II (Part I here)

For most of the evening, they laughed and reminisced about the days of old that held moments of such potent feelings of joy that the fleeting experience left its trail mark. Moments shared by six, but now only remembered by four. She was the quietest that night to no one’s surprise, but the sadness didn’t seem to be settled in her eyes the way it had been when they’d first arrived. Instead, they flashed with light and possibilities, dancing at the stories told reliving emotions that hadn’t been experienced in the two weeks since his passing. Tonight was much like that night five years ago, except Jarrod had been the one corralling the group after losing Frankie. Ah Frankie, who hated it when anyone called her Frances. A spit fire red head who stuck out like a sore thumb. Jarrod had always been the one to give her the hardest time, but she never backed down, which had cause a deep resounding relationship to formulate and which had made her loss hit him with the most severity. For the most part, he had been the strength during those times; telling stories, laughing from what seemed like the soul, being the shoulder everyone needed. But he never seemed to require anything and refused to allow anyone to see his hurt. But she had known. And she had been there, quietly, strongly, patiently waiting until he took his turn to crumble. Eventually, the weight of the world could no longer be bared upon his perfectly chiseled shoulders, and about one month following Frankie’s death, Jarrod found himself standing in front of her door seeking comfort. It was in those hours, days, weeks, that her spirit had been felt within him and she had been able to ease away the edge of his pain with her gentle smile, rambling diatribes, and embracing touch. It was in those hours, days, weeks, that he had found that her love was not only the love of a friend, but so much more and he had finally recognized the potential of what they could be.

‘Hey, Alex and Jersey are asleep. You want to take a walk with me?’ Rocki pulled her out of the mental ravine with a sharp shoulder shake. She smiled her response and they whispered out of the still dimly light living room on socked footsteps.

The air was crisp and sharply hinted at the exquisite cold about to come. Silence blanketed their early morning walk as they took in the beauty of D.C. in the fall all around them. The sun, barely kissing the sky, still managed to push the black away, turn off the stars, and offer a glowing hum for those rise and shine joggers.

‘Did you know that I was jealous of the two of you for a long time?’ Rocki, not quite as blunt as Jersey, always found an interesting moment to air herself.

‘Why?’

‘Because….,’ a shrug jarred their linking arms, ‘well, because you two were just so Monica and Chandler… Even when you argued, that shit wasn’t really an argument.’

She chuckled a bit because there were those times when they had really had arguments. Overall though, Rocki was right. The personality of their friendship had lended itself to their relationship and had colored it beautifully. True arguments were few and far between, but by no means were they anything to be jealous of.

‘Well, I guess we were a bit ‘Friends’ like, but com’on. You know we would’ve killed each other if it hadn’t been for the great sex.’

Rocki let out a rich explosion of laughter and shook her head at such a sentence.

‘You are too much.’