The Edge of Enough

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
With children on their own, a divorced mid-life woman feels restless until she rediscovers a childhood friend and her long forgotten dreams are reignited once more.

Submitted: June 16, 2017

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Submitted: June 16, 2017

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The Edge of Enough

Restless with life, that was the best way to describe who she was now, who she had become. She had titles. She had always had titles. Daughter, sister, wife, mother, banker. They always seem like enough at the time. She was never unhappy with them, she enjoyed them in fact. Maybe that was the problem. They were enough and nothing more.

There was something else now, something that roared inside a building legacy perhaps or maybe just a feeling that good enough, wasn’t enough anymore. Somewhere she turned a corner. Her titles had all receded into the background of independence of others, of other loves, other lives and even the passing of life itself. So here she sat on her bed, having turned the corner and seeing only a foggy emptiness laying before her.

Well, she thought, her life of enoughness could at least extend to cleaning out her closet and storing her winter clothes in the attic. As this it would seem by all appearances is what her future enoughness was doomed to be filled with.  

  Soon her second box of winter clothes were neatly put away in her attic but still her restlessness continued.  She had to be satisfied with what was she knew as there did not appear to be much more in front of her to indicate anything different. 

As she sat in the attic and moved the last box over slightly, she felt about. The bump against the trunk she been meaning to get to. The bump of childhood dreams and memories crashing into her current otherwise empty road of life.

She sighed, opening the trunk, thinking if nothing else, going through it would occupy several hours of her long dragged on day.  As she lifted the lid, under several old scrapbooks, it sat there glistening in  the dull black case it had been stored in.

Her childhood violin, bringing her back to the hours of lessons that never seemed enough. The hours practicing that seem like minutes to her only separated by hours of school which only seemed to drag on, separating her from her beloved notes.  Those were other days, with other dreams, when enoughness was never enough. When her dreams were bigger than today or tomorrow, or indeed time itself.

She lifted the instrument from its case like a long-lost friend, tears forming in her eyes, as she cherished the memories and the people she then knew who now danced around her like ghosts to the music leaping from her musical companion. And  the notes flew out the window into the world now leading her on her empty road ahead, leading her to her life were enoughness, would never be enough again. And she smiled thinking of the fullness of her life to come.


© Copyright 2017 Carla Charter. All rights reserved.

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