My hand ached, my fingers cramped from from gripping the pen as I filled page after page with thoughts, questions and ideas. The writing was cathartic, even if I still didn’t feel closer to knowing what to do. At least I was beginning to understand the things that had been troubling me so much.
I felt lighter than I had in weeks, only then realizing that these problems had been weighing on my mind even before I found the room with Clay’s photos and journal.
I looked up from the notebook for the first time in what might have been hours. I tried to ease my tension by rolling my shoulders, then tilted my head to the left, stretching my neck, repeating this for the right. I needed a break from all this introspection. One thing was crystal clear. I had to go see Lily. I had to do something to repair things with her.
Heading back toward the inn I ran into Lisa who was humming while pulling a weed from between two rocks near the pond. When she saw me she stood and smiled.
“Well hello! What do you think of our little garden?”
“It’s beautiful. I could spend all day out here.”
“You go right ahead, dear. That’s what it’s here for.”
“I wish I could, but I have to go see a friend.” I wasn’t normally someone who shared personal information with strangers but somehow I found myself opening to this kind woman.
“Oh my. Shouldn’t that be a good thing? You look like my kids did when they were going to see the doctor.”
I smiled at her perception. “We had a fight. Well actually, she’s not speaking to me, to be honest. If I could just get her to listen I think we could work it out, but I haven’t had much luck.”
“My late husband was a parsimonious old coot, rest his soul. He wouldn’t spend a nickel to make a dollar. When we first took over this inn he would get so angry with me when I bought trinkets to decorate the rooms. He would have left the walls bare if I’d let him. Sometimes he wouldn’t speak to me for days. In the end he was hurting himself by staying mad, but he never really did see it that way. It was always up to me to calm him down. I loved him and that was more important than any argument. I have faith you and your friend will work it out.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“You’ll see. Everything will turn out right in the end.” Pulling a small pair of scissors from the pocket of her dress she snipped some blushing pink roses from a nearby bush. “Take these to her and apologize, even if you have nothing to be sorry for. Friendship matters more than being right.“
This post is in response to the daily writing prompts Parsimonious and is part of something longer I’m working on.
This post is a part of the story about the ex and comes after My Relationship Was the Root of All My Problems.