Sorry I haven't been around as much. Life things are happening. My son is still in Afghanistan, my daughter is preparing for her first year at junior college, I'm going back to school and trying to hang on to a job that is largely endangered by the advance of the Internet.

My muse hasn't visited a lot lately, and I really haven't been able to sit down and finish works here that are still unfinished.

"Wow, that's a new look for you," Heather Myers said when Jacob and his mother showed up at self-defense class.

"I asked mom if she'd do it," he said of the french braid. "Keeps my hair out of my face when we're kick-boxing."

"Oh, so you're not making a fashion statement?" His support group leader asked.

"Come on Heather," he replied. "What kind of fashion statement can I make in a t-shirt, sweat pants and tennis shoes?"

Evolution

The changes in her son weren't sudden. She wondered, though, if they had something to do with a traumatic experience they both went through a couple of years ago.

She tried not to press when some of the changes began to appear to what appeared to be an all-american boy just a few years back.

Playing war, little league baseball, soccer, tree climbing. Those were just a few of the activities she was used to from her pride and joy that some of her friends called Dennis the Menace.

April 14, 2012

The view from the deck of the yacht was breathtaking.

A calm sea. She could easily see the stars in the sky, it was so dark.

There was a coolness in the air.

"You know Howard, I could easily imagine it," she told the man who had been her personal assistant not long after settling into a position at Pierpont International after she graduated at the top of her class at Harvard. She was expected to rise quickly in the family business, which she did.

Her brother Michael ran the company. He was the president and CEO.

Chapter 2

"Andy, Andy, wake up, you're having a bad dream," the young soldier said to his bunk mate.

"Lucian, I'm OK," his bunk mate said.

She couldn't possibly tell him the contents of the dream. She was surrounded by Confederate soldiers who had discovered her true identity. They were about to assault her when her bunk mate woke her up.

Just thought I would let people know. We're still going through some personal issues. My work schedule has changed and I'm trying to spend as much time as possible with my kids before my son goes to Afghanistan in a couple of months.

Because of the change in my work schedule, I rarely have enough time to devote to writing as I'd like (one reason you sometimes see typos in my work is that I'll try to write as much as possible in a short time and know real private and personal place to save them).

Chloe, Chapter 2
It had been a few weeks since her nephew dressed up.

She decided not to press the issue, but she wondered what was going on in his head.

He still played with dolls. He seemed to enjoy Caroline's American Dolls the best, and still mothered Janice Libby.

She enjoyed the story time they had before bed. Despite her sister's many problems, Karen was amazed at her nephew's intelligence and his natural ability with music. She taught him a few simple songs on the piano and he gradually worked his way up to more complicated songs.

He knew he was going to catch some flack for the choice he made.

That's what he thought as he rummaged through his duffle bag.

Instead of a baseball gove, cleats, bat, helmet and uniform, he pulled out his ballet shoes, dance belt and unitard, not exactly the uniform of choice for most boys his age.

"Company warmups in five minutes, Max!" a voice yelled from the other side of his dressing room door.

"I'm coming," he said, rushing to get dressed.

I stared at the mirror trying to tie my bun into place.

I never knew it could be so hard. All those years in a ballet studio and the experience of getting my hair perfectly right alluded me.

"Are you about done?" A young voice yelled, breaking my concentration. "Madame Anne wants us in the studio. And the boys are waiting."

"Just a sec, Caroline," I said as I grabbed my Gaynor Mindens.
I couldn't help but fight the butterflies. The memories were all rushing back.

It was a battle just coming back to this place, even though it was always my refuge during my struggle within.

The airplane ride, the trip through the countryside seemed to take forever.

The young boy in the back seat of the car felt somewhat like a criminal as he traveled with the social worker who knew all too well.

He was small for 12, and looked a little malnourished. His hair was way too long for the social worker who had accompanied him on this trip.

"Don't pull anymore of your tricks," she lectured. "You dressing like a girl. We couldn't keep you in foster homes. I suppose this one won't last very long if you keep that up."

Chapter 5

"Okay, batter, batter," Riley said from the pitcher's mound. "Swing batter, batter."

I swung as hard as I could. I missed, as usual.