Greetings!
I am working on a book, a memoir, based on my experience with "ghosting" this past summer. I named this "Chapter Zero" because I am struggling with the concept of a prologue. I surveyed a few friends and they confessed they often skipped the prologue and dove straight into the chapters.
These are all ideas and rough drafts, and I am having fun with them. I appreciate any feed back you can give me on the writing or cover ideas.
Thank you for joining me and reading my post. :)
CHAPTER ZERO
Counting the Days
“It happens all the time.”
Now it’s odd, though, unless I look at his picture, I barely remember his smile, his laugh, his funny faces, and quirky gestures. I have pictures and videos that I will always treasure, and I will forever wonder how different our relationship could have been under different circumstances.
My life changed on March 30th, 2017. This is the poem he wrote for me on May 22nd, 2017; he said the last line was his favorite, because it meant we would be seeing each other again.
“Counting the Days”
(Original Poem)
“We count the days, it does no harm
Until we kiss in each other’s arms;
Seven days out, we plan our time
The arts and nature, and exquisite wine;
Six days to wait, live music in store
A grand hotel, bodies to explore;
Five days to go, will this waiting end
We'll hike the mountains, walking with friends;
Four days now, the passion will be great
We long for pleasure; it's hard to wait;
Three days away, we'll soak and rest
Relaxing our bodies, feeling our best;
Two days’ time, we'll rock and roll
Dancing and laughing, refreshing the soul;
One day now, anticipation in the air
I remember your feel, but want to be there;
Four days of fun, high with pleasure
Spectacular weekend, a time to treasure;
We part to our homes, so far away
With wonderful memories and counting the days...”
Luke Waynes
Embracing Life
The old two-lane asphalt and dirt roads were well used; agriculture in the surrounding fields was at its peak, and the unblocked mountainous views were phenomenal. I was fortunate to have been raised in a small town in Montana where community was of the essence. As teenagers, we knew all the places we could go hide from our parents, mostly in the forested or private areas; Hyalite Canyon, the Rain Forest, Blueberry Hill, and the Madison River, to name a few. I relied on nature to revive me; the scents of the earth and pine trees were irresistible, and the sound of the rushing rivers and babbling brooks gave me a sense of tranquility.
2017
I was single, loving life, and embracing it as though there were no tomorrow. I spent most of my free time surrounded by close girlfriends; giggling and throwing parties that included cocktails, murder mystery weekends and anything we could think of to join together in merriment. Mimosas and exquisitely prepared appetizers were often on the menu; we were caught up in making a treasure box of cherished memories.
Bozeman is a small city in Montana that has sprouted into somewhat of a social and cultural web over the past few years. The locals joked about living in “BozeAngeles”, with the hustle-bustle crowds accumulating every month, and the construction was none stop. Fancy motels, lavish condos, conventional businesses, and a multitude of houses and recreational parks were rising up on every corner. It created an air of prosperity, metropolis, and technology; Bozeman was changing at a rapid pace.
I was as much of a groupie as anyone when it came to rounding up the troops for a night out dancing to the “The Max”, a favorite band of many locals in Gallatin and Park County. The Bozeman Hot Springs is within 2 miles of my house, and I frequently worked out at the gym and soaked in the natural hot water. I could easily lose myself in a comedy, sci-fi, or a chick-flick at the big screen at the mall. The long scenic walks and hikes with fellow comrades provided an abundance of entertaining chit-chat and exercise.
The favorite local taverns, bars, and bistros display a variety of cocktails and hors d’oeuvers, and an excursion downtown suggested many opportunities to select the ultimate atmosphere of your choice. Some dwellings are of questionable repute, some are swanky or ritzy, and most have a comfortable air about them. Taking in a play at the theatre, or a concert at one of the countless venues, had become a regular occurrence; there was no lack of entertainment.
My life was well designed, I was enthusiastic about starting my new job, and apparently, I was living in one of the most popular places on the continent.