I learned a long ago that with challenges come opportunities, and opportunities often lead one down new and exciting roads. I met Denise a few months ago at the newly formed a Fidalgo Island Writers Guild. A short time later, she signed up for my writing class, which is designed to jump-start beginning writers who need that extra push. I soon discovered that Denise's writing engine had been humming along for sometime, having written several romance novels. What she found instead, was a new outlet to her writing.
Denise Morrow, an Anacortes native, has lived on Fidalgo Island all her life. After college she married her husband Brent, and here they raised two daughters, Leah and Linnea. For decades Denise’s job has been in Mini Storage development and operation in Anacortes and Oak Harbor. Finally figuring out what she wanted to do when she grew up, she began writing romance novels. Fast-forward two year, and four books are ready for editing. Denise has now found a new love, the short story.
I expected him to evoke a stronger
feeling inside of me. I had been so captivated by the mere thought of him
decades earlier. In fact, he dominated my thoughts in the early 70’s. It was a painful longing with no chance
of requital, and yet the feeling had persisted.
a warm summer day a lifetime ago, I stood perusing the magazine counter at
Citizens Pharmacy. I was ecstatic to see, nestled between the pages of the
latest edition of Tiger Beat, a mega poster of his smiling face. In living
color, a giant head and shoulder shot that would take up half the wall above my
strong yearnings grew as I listened to his treble timbre emitting from the 33
spinning on my portable, plastic record player. Surrounded by the lavender
walls of my bedroom, imagining him singing directly to me, I rolled over on a
loud purple floral bedspread to gaze at his glossy image. His signature colored
shirt matched my room and his soft brown eyes and feathered hair generated a
sweet fervency in my adolescent heart. I sighed deeply and fantasized about
what I was sure would be our fated meeting someday.
long as I could keep my little brother from surreptitiously penciling in a
mustache above the shiny white teeth of my dreamy, would be lover, life was
My feelings cooled along with the
weather that fall as I began my Jr. High years. All my energies were now taken
up trying to fit in and interact with real life boys, some with interesting
potential. The poster was eventually taken down, carefully folded, and stored
away. I never could bring myself to toss it.
and a half decades later the harsh lights of sin city reflected off the hotel
walls. Part of nostalgic, old Las Vegas, hot pink and orange dominated the
decor of this establishment. I wondered where the time had gone. This trip was
a pilgrimage of sorts. On the verge of a significant birthday, I was hopeful to
recreate the mood and sensibilities of my youth. I ran headlong into the past
with the expectation of fulfilling an antiquated fantasy.
here I stood, at long last, inches away from him, time had been kind to his
countenance; he was still a strikingly handsome man. We were both dressed
completely in black. My 5-inch patent leather platform sandals put us at eye
level. I mumbled something about his poster hanging on my bedroom wall in the
70’s as he put his arm around me and smiled for a photo. But too much time had
passed. No longer did I feel the deep, burning hunger of a pubescent preteen. His
touch did not create in me the thrilling sensation that I had anticipated. He
turned towards me and I looked expectantly into his brown eyes, as he opened
his mouth to speak. His only words, “Sorry I’m so sweaty.”