Letters in Time by Reiss Susan (i love reading books .txt) 📕

“You’re welcome. Think of it as a celebration of your accomplishment.”

“My accomplishment?”

“Sure, you’re making good progress. When I first saw you, you could barely get around. Now, you’re using both legs. Before you know it, you’ll be walking without any help and even driving again.”

When I realized what a full recovery would mean, I reeled. I didn’t want to drive again, not ever, now that I knew what could happen. It was hard enough to get into a car to be driven someplace, let alone get behind the wheel.

Maria must have noticed my reaction. “Of course, we don’t have to think about that right now. You still have a long way to go and I certainly don’t need to talk myself out of a job.”

She turned to look out at the water, land, and sky. “This is such a beautiful spot. If I lived here, I’d probably sit outside on this patio to watch the landscape change with the seasons. It’s all happening right in front of us.”

“I agree with you,” I said. “Even when I was a child, Uncle Jack and I would sit out here for hours and just watch.  A blue heron lived around here for a couple of years. He acted as if he owned the Cottage. I spent so much time watching him, I even gave him a name, Ernie,” I said, smiling at the memory.

“Was he a nice bird?” She asked.

“No, not really. If I went down to the water while he was looking for dinner, he would squawk at me to go away. It was worse than the sound of fingernails dragged down a blackboard. I’d watch him watching the water. He would stand so still his blue feathers would ruffle in the breeze. The fish must have thought he was part of the sky or a plant until he would strike. Then, of course, it was too late.”

Maria sighed and looked up at the immense dome of blue sky above. “I like the geese. Most people don’t.” She shrugged.  “They can be nasty birds when they’re riled up.  They have a strong sense of family. They mate for life, watch out for their young and fly in a V formation. Many spend the winter here on the Shore, always calling out to make sure everybody knows where everybody is. Used to be that way with families, but now the kids can’t wait to go off to school, get jobs someplace else, travel who knows where, doing who knows what. It’s enough to put you in your grave before your time.”

She started collecting my dirty lunch dishes. “Have you ever seen the Monarchs?”

“No, I think I was back in school when the butterflies flew south for the winter.”

“It’s an incredible sight. At first, you’re alone. Then one bright orange butterfly settles on a nearby bush. The next minute, there are hundreds of them. I read they fly all the way from southern Canada, which is a place I’ve never visited, to central Mexico, which is another place I’ve never been and have no interest in going. I hate crossing the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, let alone traveling all the way up to Canada. I wonder if it bothers them to drink the water in Mexico.”

I had to start coughing to stifle my laughter. This woman, so conscientious about her responsibilities, said some of the funniest things. I had to listen carefully to her ramblings because somewhere in there, I would find a nugget.

Maria went inside to finish her work, leaving me alone with my thoughts. What was I going to tell the writing group? TJ was right. They would expect me to introduce myself, talk about my writing accomplishments, and give them an idea of what I was writing. My only writing accomplishments were notes to parents and student progress sheets. Maybe I was approaching this the wrong way. Maria brought me some paper, the cordless phone, and a sheet of orange origami paper before she left for the day. First, I smoothed out the sheet of orange paper, thinking about the ancient Japanese art form called origami: ori- to fold and gami- paper. An origami shape must be made without cutting, pasting, or marking the paper.  A simple concept that takes a lifetime to master.

To begin, I had to select a shape. Crane?  Butterfly? No, I thought a fish was more appropriate. It needs courage and determination to swim upstream, the same dedication I needed to tackle my goal of writing a book.

Why can’t I be content with rehab and recovery?  I sighed.  Because that's not the way I am. I scooted my chair closer to the table and started folding. The minutes flew by and my confused thoughts settled. I put the little orange fish on the table. It worked its magic. Whenever I was in the classroom and got the urge to fold, it was a sign that things were not going well. Creating a shape allowed me to catch my breath and entertain the kids at the same time.

Now, the little orange fish got me in the mood to think about the book. Would the kids enjoy another book about the Civil War? I was about to start a list of other ideas when the phone rang.

“Hello, my dear Ms. Chase.”

I was so surprised by my attorney’s polite attitude that it took me a moment to respond. “Mr. Heinrick?”

“Why yes, of course. I thought I would call and see how things were going for you?”

“I’m still making progress. I want to use a cane, but the therapist said I wasn’t ready.”

“No, no, you must