Once, a curious writer found a small envelope tucked inside an old book. The note inside read, “Your next adventure begins… will you follow the trail of glowing fireflies or the echo of a distant waterfall?”
The inquisitive writer wanted to just sit down and watch the fireflies. They were so beautiful. But they were heading somewhere, so she followed them.
It felt like only a short time had passed when she noticed the tiny lights settling on one tall, majestic tree. She looked up in awe as she walked closer and closer.
Then she saw it.
Another note attached to the tree.
The writer paused before reading it. She was thirsty and tired, so she sat down and leaned against the tree before unfolding the note.
It read, “I am glad you are here. You have been seeking long enough. Let the quest cease for a moment. The fireflies led you not to movement, but to stillness. Sit a little longer. The waterfall is just ahead, and it will be more magical because you paused. The echo is closer now. Listen before you rush.”
She lowered the paper and sat there, listening to the steady cascade of water.
As she rested against the tree, ideas began to grow within the stillness. The fireflies and the waterfall were not destinations after all, but inspiration. Exactly what she needed to plow through her writer’s block with a wrecking ball.
She never did make it to the waterfall that night. It would have to wait.
The fireflies seemed almost in sync as they guided her back toward her cabin. The desk that had brought so much frustration earlier now glowed with the same intoxicating shimmer as the tiny lights in the trees.
She sat down, took a deep breath… and the story began.
Turns out, you led me exactly where I needed to go.
Lilly stepped off the plane, reminding herself this had been Roni’s idea from the start. This trip was about Roni.
Roni spotted her first and ran straight into her arms.
“You’re finally here!”
“You say that like I had options,” Lilly laughed.
“And I would do it again,” Roni said without apology. “Come on. I want you to meet Justin. I may have talked about you a little.”
“A little?” Lilly narrowed her eyes.
They found him near the exit, holding Roni’s coat, watching the crowd in that quiet way some people do, studying passers-by like research projects.
“Lilly,” Roni said, glowing, “this is Justin Collins. He works as a features editor for a city magazine here. The one I told you about.”
Lilly looked between them. “And your fiancé too, right?”
Justin laughed first. “Yes. The best headline of my life.”
Roni nudged him. “See? I told you she was quick.”
Justin offered his hand, steady and warm. “I’ve heard you’re at a crossroads.”
Lilly shot Roni a look.
“She may have filled me in,” he admitted. “Best friend briefings are thorough.”
Roni grinned. “You’re welcome.”
They started walking toward the parking garage.
“So,” Justin said casually, “Roni mentioned you’re switching into journalism. Travel writing caught your attention?”
“I’m trying to figure out if I’m brave enough to say that out loud,” Lilly answered. “Right now, I’m just trying to survive an assignment explaining why I deserve to be in a journalism club.”
“Ah,” he said softly. “The persuasive essay disguised as destiny.”
She laughed despite herself. “Exactly.”
Roni glanced between them. “She’s always written, you know. Even in college, she rewrote half her professors’ prompts just to make them more interesting.”
Lilly groaned. “Please stop helping.”
Justin’s eyes sharpened, not critically, just attentively. “What kind of writing have you done?”
“Local paper features. Nothing huge. Some opinion pieces and many incomplete drafts.
“Unfinished drafts are honest,” he said. “It means you care enough to wrestle with them.”
She blushed a little, knowing he was encouraging her, but she felt exposed.
Roni noticed at once. She slipped her arm through Lilly’s and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Hey,” she said softly, just for her. “You don’t have to have it all figured out this weekend. You just be you… and be the best maid of honor ever.”
“And what’s holding you up on this paper?” he asked.
“I’m trying to prove I’m worthy instead of just… writing.”
He nodded once. “That’s common.”
They reached the car, but the conversation didn’t feel finished.
“If you want to write travel,” Justin continued, leaning lightly against the door, “then write something while you’re here. Not about yourself. About what you notice. The airport. The way this city feels at night. The coffee shop we’ll probably end up in tomorrow morning. Write it as if it’s already your job.”
Her pulse quickened.
“And then?”
“Then I’ll see what I’m working with.”
She stood frozen, just smiling, thrilled about a brand-new possibility.
Roni clapped once. “See? I told you this weekend was going to be productive.”
Justin smiled, but there was seriousness beneath it. “If there’s something there, I can introduce you to someone in your city who mentors new writers. I’ve recommended interns before when I believe in them. But I need to see your voice first.”
“So,” he said gently, “are you willing to take a detour?”
For the first time since Greg Thomas had handed her the assignment and challenged her to prove herself, Lilly felt something shift.
Maybe she didn’t have to explain who she was.
She had to show it.
To be continued.
Tag, you’re it. If you’d like to jump in, feel free. If not, I’ll keep moving it along, bit by bit.
Bud-dies have been waiting at the gate, hoping I’d rise and make that morning magic, the one with nuts, fruits, seeds, all swirling in that rich, velvety parfait.
Please let it be the one, they whisper, barely daring to hope.
Guys… I think it’s happening. The gate is opening. Look! The spoon is full.
Oh my, this is going to be more than we can contain.
A collective sigh of bliss reverberates throughout the chamber.
It’s beyond tasty: crunchy and smooth, sweet and a little bitter, all at the same time.
“My favorite is the nuttiness of it all,” says Crunchy Carl, the portal clown. “Me and nutty are best buds.”
“Of course you are,” mutters Salty, the critic. “One spoonful and his corniness hits overdrive.”
“Shush, Salty,” whispers Syllabud, ever the poet. “To taste is to live.”
“Please,” snaps Tangy, ever the tart-tongued cynic. Pssst, Sugar, his pet name for Sweet Sally, for he always felt they were made for each other, the sour to her drippy sunshine. Are you hearing this? As usual, they’re babbling like a bunch of… Sugar, are you listening to me?”
“Huh? Oh, sorry. This is just so hip-hip-horraylicious. Mmm, divine.”
Then, from somewhere deeper in the flavor field, Cordata, the savoriest, speaks with quiet command.
“We all know she depends on us, insists even, to soothe her palate. While I find her expectations for harmony a bit unrealistic, we’d better work together… or she might switch to boring, bland oatmeal. And not the brown sugar and cinnamon kind.”
A hushed gasp ripples through the buds.
“Oh man,” Crunchy Carl whispers. “I miss that flavor.”
I sigh. “Cordata, I’m not looking for a peace summit. I just wanted breakfast.”
More… more… MORE!
Their chant elevates into a culinary rebellion.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” I mutter. “You all are so dramatic.”
I scoop another spoonful, partly to appease them, partly because, well, they’re not wrong.
“Here. This should soothe your almost obnoxious senses.”
“Oh, quite contrary,” they cry. “The senses are fixing to explode with deliciousness!”
I shake my head, smiling.
Ahhhhhh.
I lift the final spoonful, realizing the last bite is always the hardest to swallow. “My cherished buddies, brace yourselves. Let’s remember that life is scrumptious, joyfully absurd, and entirely worth waking up for. Now, here it comes.” Their swoons, sighs, and giggles said it all.
A short work of fiction inspired by my father. He’s been on my mind lately.
I had to call my brother.
“Brady, I don’t know where to start. I need to figure out how to tell you.”
In his usual fashion, he said, “You want me to call you back in two weeks so you can figure it out?”
He is such a brat, but in the most fun way.
“What is it, Sis?”
“Brady, I received a letter from Dad saying he is still alive.”
“What? No. This has to be a sick joke.”
“I know, Bro. But what if…”
“Are you home now?”
“Yes,” I said.
“I’ll be right over.”
I had not moved since I hung up the phone. I sat there in shock, reading the letter over and over, as if the repetition would make the words different.
He was the only one who ever used that name, and there it was.
Hello Sweet Ruckus,
Guess what? I am still here.
You must keep this to yourself. I mean that. No one is to know, except Brady, and he must understand the same.
This isn’t secrecy for drama. It’s necessity. My safety depends on it.
I’ll explain everything when I see you. Until then, trust me and stay quiet.
The knock felt more like a pounding, sharp enough to pull me back into the present.
“Hold on, Brady. I’m coming.”
I rushed toward the door, the letter still clenched in my hand, its edges bent now.
When I opened it, they were there.
Brady.
And my dad.
For a breathless second, I questioned it. There was something in his expression, maybe a pause, but I pushed it aside.
I rushed into him, burying my face against his chest, tears spilling freely, soaking the floor beneath us. His arms closed around me, strong and familiar, the kind of embrace that once made the world feel manageable.
Just as his arms tightened and I let myself sink into him,
with gratitude to Lori Sillman for this next twist in Lilly’s journey
Lilly wasn’t sure how all that spunk materialized, but she was thankful it had. So there, Mr. Greg Thomas! I guess thinking she’d just walk in and be on the next flight to Borneo proved her ability to dream was still there. She chuckled at herself.
Having lined up, in order, next steps was just what she needed to stay motivated and determined. Registering for the right classes was something she was familiar with doing, even if it was for a completely different degree. But writing a piece all about herself would prove much more challenging. She loved the idea of answering all the who, what, where, when, and why for someone else’s life. For her own, not so much.
Lilly curled up in her plushy armchair, enveloped herself in her softest blanket, and opened her laptop. How hard could it be? A full half hour and seventy-three starts later, she decided it could be very hard.
The buzzing interrupted her attempt number seventy-four. “Hello?”
“Hi Lilly! I have such news!”
Having known Roni for nearly twenty years, Lilly could tell Roni was excited with barely one word spoken. “I’m hoping you’re about to share it,” she said, her smile heard as much as her words.
“I’m getting married, and you just have to be my Maid of Honor!”
Stunned was all Lilly could feel. “What? When? To whom? How long have you been dating? Do I know him? Why didn’t you tell me you were serious about someone, anyone?”
Laughter bubbled from Roni’s throat. “Slow down! I don’t know what to answer first.”
“All of them. Immediately!”
“When can we get together? I’ll fly you here. We can discuss plans, and you can meet him.”
The girls hadn’t seen each other in over three years. College in different states will do that. Lilly wanted to go, but now? Seriously? Why did it sometimes seem nothing could be easy?
To be continued.
Tag, you’re it. If you’d like to join me in the fun, feel free to comment below. If not, I’ll keep the story moving, bit by bit.
Lilly started walking fast toward the journalism club. She was so excited. Everything was coming together, but as she got closer, she felt herself falling out of place. Her confidence began to shatter as she recalled her dad’s conversation and all the inner dialogue she had been playing.
Is this even possible? I am probably fooling myself. I do tend to dream, but remember, dreaming is a great motivator. Come on, girl, you’ve got this.
Just as she opened the door, her aplomb stood up. Even if it was a “fake it until you make it” moment, she’d take it. The door felt stuck, but maybe it was because she was still shaking. She let go, took a deep breath, and firmly grabbed it with extra strength, and it opened nicely. The room was cool and very quiet.
She didn’t get very far before a tall man greeted her. Though friendly, he was intimidating, and her phony bologna confidence act began to shatter. Since she stood frozen, the man approached, and it was clear he saw how uncomfortable she was.
“Welcome. My name is Greg Thomas. Who do I have the pleasure of meeting today, and how can I help you?”
He was so nice.
Lilly smiled and said, “My name is Lillian Frank, but my friends just call me Lilly. I am here to find out more about this club. I think that I would very much like to become a member. I was hoping I could speak to someone and learn about what you offer, and if I might be well suited to join.”
He smiled and responded quickly. “Looks like you found me. I happen to be the club president. I was just heading out for the day when you entered.”
“Oh no, Mr. Thomas. I can come back another time if that is better.”
“Not necessary. I am more than happy to help, and please, call me Greg. Come into my office.”
She was getting more excited. It seemed he was eager to consider her already, or was she just hoping?
He said that he needed to know more about her first.
“So, tell me, Lilly, how long have you been pursuing a degree in journalism? We usually only consider those who have already completed their prerequisites and are well on their way to graduating.”
She paused and took a deep breath. “Sir, I mean Greg, I’m a senior undergraduate. My degree has been in veterinary science.”
Greg looked confused. He started explaining that she may have wandered into the wrong place. This was a journalism club for aspiring journalists.
She scowled at him. Displaced anger was real. The same defensiveness she had felt with her dad rose up again.
“Yes, sir, I know. But you see, I have been thinking about this for a long time. I want to become a journalist instead.”
“Listen, sir,” she continued, no longer wanting to call him Greg. “Is there a rule at this college that says a person can’t change paths? I don’t think so.”
She took a breath.
“I know I’m a good writer. I’m certain many credits will transfer. I’ve written, and I’ve even been published in the local paper. I’m serious about this, and I’m capable.”
She hesitated, then added, her tone tempered, “I would welcome the opportunity to prove myself, if you’ll let me.”
She realized she may have been disrespectful. His small grin, followed by a brief laugh, made her wonder if he was mocking her. Then he leaned in.
“Lilly, I apologize if I came across as dismissive,” he said. “I hear your determination, and you’ll need that spunk, and plenty of it, as a journalist.”
“I would consider you on two conditions. First, you need to get all your logistics in order. We only accept members who are actively working toward a journalism degree.”
“Second, I want you to write a piece explaining how you came to the decision to become a journalist, what you hope for your future, and why we should consider you.”
She had asked for a chance, and this was it.
To be continued.
Tag, you’re it. If you’d like to join me in the fun, feel free to comment below. If not, I’ll keep the story moving, bit by bit.
A heartfelt thank you to Lori Sillman for adding the next bit. Her contribution has helped keep this story alive. I love how she captured Lilly’s mix of doubt, hope and determination. She added depth without changing her voice.
To all readers, comment below if you’d like to join in or even just offer ideas or direction of where you would like it to go. If not, that is perfectly fine. It is just for fun. I will keep weaving, bit by bit, but just like when we sit together, this story is even better when we create it, side by side.
Here’s the next bit, written by Lori…
Lilly couldn’t help but feel some of the disappointment and self-doubt that his words prodded, but she also knew she would only be unfulfilled by giving up the dream. She tossed about the idea of doing both. She could continue the last bit of her degree in veterinary school while taking classes in journalism. Would that honor her dad, and her mom’s memory, or just waste more money, slowing down her new career?
“Dad, I want to make you proud. I am sorry to let you down. I have to pursue this. I’ll work on the side and help pay my way.”
Paul could never let his baby feel like a disappointment. “Alright, Lilly. We’ll work together, and just so you know, your mom and I have always been proud of you. We may have shook our heads at your changing pursuits, but we love your ability to dream big!”
Lilly felt relieved, excited, and under more pressure than ever. She immediately looked at what classes she would need to enroll in. Thankfully, the guidance counselor knew Lilly. She not only helped Lilly wade through the credits and classes that worked for her new degree path, she let Lilly in on a little secret.
“There is a journalism club on campus that works with the profs and classes. They get to travel all over and receive credit for on-the-job training. There are multiple destinations. I can have the club president get in touch with you, if you’re interested.”
“Are you serious? I cannot believe it. Really, all this for me?”
“Yes, Lilly. This is yours, and you deserve every bit of it.”
Her father had been plotting and saving for years. Paul stood there in quiet awe, looking at his baby girl.
Lilly had completed her third year of college. It had taken her five years, though. Regardless, she was well on her way to becoming the veterinarian she had always wanted to be. Then, unexpectedly, she changed direction. She wanted to be a journalist.
Her favorite part of college had always been anything to do with writing. More and more, her thoughts drifted there. She could see herself traveling with her laptop, pen in hand, going on adventures and writing about them. The research aspect fit perfectly with her insatiable curiosity. It felt like a dream job.
She met his eyes.
“Why wouldn’t I pursue something that calls to me?” she said. “Surely, Dad, you wouldn’t want to hold me back from my desire to reach for the stars.”
Paul discouraged her at first.
“Lilly, absolutely not. I can’t afford to keep funding trial-and-error pursuits. And you know your mother would have wanted you to finish what you start.”
He paused, then continued, unable to stop himself.
“I’m certain you can still hear her voice as she dragged you to every practice, every event. ‘Lilly, you are going, and that’s it!’ You tried everything, art, dancing, debate. Remember the night you ran into our room convinced you were meant to be an influencer?”
He shook his head, a tired smile flickering.
“I didn’t believe it would last. They rarely did.”
Lilly felt the familiar defensive heat rise.
“Dad, you’re exaggerating, and you know it. Those weren’t failures. I was a kid learning who I am. You make it sound like a bad thing.”
Paul softened.
“Honey, I understand. But you’re a senior now, pursuing the one thing you’ve always wanted, your own veterinary clinic. I’ve watched you stay the course. Even through your mother’s cancer. Even after she died.”
His voice wavered.
“You never stopped showing up for her. You never stopped showing up for yourself. And now, just as you’re about to start your fourth year, you suddenly want to change everything.”
To be continued.
Tag you are it. If not, that’s ok too. Still, more to come.
She is a winner. The orneriest, wittiest, wisest, most entertaining, fun, curious, loyal, loved, easy laughing, unique, inspiring, honest, and beautiful lady of integrity there ever was. I’m not exaggerating!
Yes, she and Dad introduced me to God, and for that I am eternally grateful. She has shown up for all of her loves, over and over again. She instilled in me the notion that thoughts are things, and each and every day, I reflect on the gift she gave me.
It was afternoon, just after school, as I recall. We were cleaning the counter, and I don’t remember what she was responding to. I can only imagine I was expressing a less than enthusiastic attitude about having to do chores, lol.
Anyway, I still hear her voice.
Don’t get me wrong, she isn’t perfect. But dang, she comes close. I say this because ever since I can remember, she’s put up with my shenanigans, and when we’ve faced friction (usually my doing), she never stopped proving her unconditional love.
There is no one more deserving of my respect and admiration.
She isn’t tall, but if you mess with one of her loves, well, let’s all be glad she doesn’t carry.
Despite her being a bit of a private introvert, when it comes to family, furry and otherwise, they are her world entire.
And one more thing, don’t just take my word for it. She is so cherished, so adored, and so deeply loved by her devoted husband, Papa, her sissy, her four other children and their spouses, all her many grands, thirty plus in all, including all her grands and great grands. Then there are the nieces, nephews, not to mention her many familial friends, all of which cherish the treasure she is. Her magical self continues to touch so many lives.
Mama, when it comes to you, finding what’s right always comes easily, the easiest in fact.
