Monica Nelson's Blog

Disheartening. Unbelievable. Devastating. These are all emotions that can attack when you see evil win. When it seems the whole world is topsy-turvy. And there is no sense of justice. It is a phenomenon that can bring you down and leave you paralyzed.

How do you crawl out of the hole that leaves you feeling hopeless? Here are a few tips to start you on your way back.

Give Yourself Time to Process. The world is out of kilter. It is not your imagination. There are misaligned values at play. We don’t always understand why that is. But you can either stay in that state of misalignment. Or you can take action. Let it sift through your mind until you are willing to accept that it is. You are ready to move on if you can come to that acceptance.

Redefine Your Values. You have accepted the truth of the situation. It’s time to shore up your values. They have been battered. They have been questioned. They have been told they are wrong. Look at them again. Compassion. Love. Equality. Integrity. Social justice. Placing yourself in another person’s shoes. Can these ever be considered wrong?

Image courtesy of Alexas_Fotos on Pixabay.com.

What do those values say about the evil that pervades?

If you are honest (another good trait), can your values be wrong? They may be battered, but they are not broken. As they heal, allow them to flourish.

Gather Your Courage. Once you have held tight to your values, gather your courage. It is going to take much work. Fighting for rights and moral causes is a lonely struggle. It will require all the courage you can gather. Take strength in the wisdom your values give you.

Stand Your Ground. Hold fast to your values and their right to stand. They must prevail in the end. You are the warrior for virtue. Corrupt acts are flimsy. They will eventually implode upon themselves. Infighting and one-upmanship will lead to chaos—and eventual disintegration. Evil cannot stand in the long run.

Work Toward Good. Take your cause to the street. Find organizations and groups that support the fight. There are others like you. And there is power in numbers. Bring your talents and your enthusiasm. Your contribution will add glue to the honorable structure of change.

Evil wins if you succumb to its force. Please don’t allow it to take hold of you. There is hope in goodness. We strengthen each other. And we strengthen the world. We gently pound against rock-hard evil with the water of integrity and scrub away the grit. In the end, those silent forces win.

Copyright 2024, Monica Nelson

Starting today, July 26, 2024, and running for five days is my free eBook promotion for Rhythm That Surrounds Us. I’ve been going through a personal conundrum and I need your advice. I hope this free book will give romance readers incentive to help me out with this decision.

If you read my blog, you know that I have written nonfiction (advice, how-to’s, etc.) and romance (short fiction as well as this novel). It’s important for me to find a “direction.” Which type of writing do I do best? I would appreciate your input. So, if you like romance and find the summary interesting, please use the Buy Now at $0.00, and read it. Then, tell me if it held your interest and what you thought of it.

Thank you in advance. Download at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0D2DZR2FM.

Summary

Can anyone fight fate when you’re stubbornly determined to stick to your own plan? Kaddy’s going to try. When the rhythm of life forces Kaddy into unexpected changes, she finds that it is possible to have her career and love too.

Kaddy is a resolute woman. Her strongly held beliefs tell her that powerful men are egocentric scoundrels, that she cannot find romance in her law firm, and that life is a pattern of pendulum swings. Her life pendulum has brought her growth and learning but love still eludes her.

Chase is a lost man. While pursuing his career, he has become a high-profile triumph but at a cost. His wife has divorced him and he is grappling with a growing emptiness in his soul. These things have shaken his worldview to its core. At the beginning of this personal crisis, he meets Kaddy whose uncomfortable insight adds more questions than answers. He can’t get her beliefs or her image out of his mind.

Does the rhythm that surrounds them have a plan to bring the two of them together into a blissful future?

I once had a manager who was kind and compassionate in many ways. But there was someone within the organization that she despised. Her contempt was palpable. I know this other person. On the surface, he was gruff in many ways, but I also learned details about him that others did not know.

He had a tough childhood, one that no one could comprehend. Although he made many mistakes in his relationships with others, he silently worked very hard to overcome his faults. Most importantly, he never used his deplorable childhood as an excuse. He told only a few people.

While my manager prided herself on compassion, she fell short in many important ways. It’s easy to be compassionate for those we understand, but it isn’t easy to understand those we do not naturally have compassion for.

Genuine compassion means rising above prejudice and realizing that one can never know everything about another person. There is hope. The following are steps you can take to begin to practice genuine compassion.

Step One: Open Your Mind

Opening your mind may be the process’s most challenging but crucial part. It requires that you recognize your need to approach everyone with an open mind, free from preconceived notions or judgments. Our prejudice keeps us boxed into our perception. Your first step requires that you understand that everyone’s experiences, perspectives, and feelings are valid, even if they differ from your own.

Step Two: Listen With an Open Heart

Once your mind is open, you need to open your heart. When someone wants to talk to you about a hurt or pain in their life, give your full attention to that person. Avoid interrupting them or preparing any response you feel you need to provide. Just listen.

Image courtesy of RDNE Stock project on Pexel.com

Step Three: Employ your Empathy

Listen not only to the words but also to the emotions behind them. Put yourself in their skin, imagining how they might feel or what they might be going through. You may not necessarily agree with their perspective, but validating their emotions by accepting and acknowledging them is essential.

Step Four: Actively Seek Understanding from a Position of Nonjudgment

Listen genuinely to learn more about their thoughts, feelings, and needs. Ask clarifying questions to deepen your understanding of how they feel.

Cultivating a non-judgmental attitude will help you avoid making assumptions about that person or their life. Suspending judgment requires recognizing and challenging your biases and prejudices, anything that may influence your perceptions.

Step Five: Use Reflective Responses

After you have listened thoroughly and are confident that you understand precisely where they’re coming from, you may respond to them. Your responses should be thoughtful, reflecting on what you’ve heard them say. Allow them time so they may clarify any misunderstandings.

Do not overshadow or dismiss that person’s feelings. Make sure your responses are thoughtful. Share stories from your life or your perspective only if it benefits them.

Step Six: Show Care and Support

Offer encouraging words. Showing you care validates their position. Reassure them that you are supportive no matter what.

Step Seven: Take Action if Appropriate

Most of the time, people want someone to listen to them and validate their feelings. This concept is more important than you realize. But in those rare times when they need help beyond listening, offer your assistance or resources you may know of. Within a few days, follow up with that person to check on their well-being and continue to support them if needed.

Step Eight: Follow up on your actions

This step requires self-reflection. Consider your responses and interactions. Mull over how you can improve your ability to show compassion in the future. If there are areas where you fall short, identify them and commit yourself to learning and growing from that experience.

Don’t blow off this step. It’s essential for your growth.

If we wish to grow in our ability to show genuine compassion, it’s essential to show compassion when it is someone you despise. Those people we would much prefer to hate can strengthen our compassion in countless ways and may even change our minds about them.

Copyright 2024, Monica Nelson

I always disliked orange. It was a very bland color, lacking the sparkle of red or the shine of yellow. Orange paled against the cool hues of blue and purple or the freshness of green. It sat equally with the other colors in the color wheel but held no allure. It was just there.

So, I surprised myself this morning when I woke up and pulled a favorite springtime shirt out of the closet to wear. It is a hand-me-down from my mother, pale orange with a little white. I like it because it is comfortable and different from what I usually wear, and I have received many compliments on it. I got to thinking about the color orange and my prejudice against it.

It really does not harm. It exists in its own quiet solitude, doing its job without fanfare or accolade. It’s not boastful or brash. In its subdued state, it is my go-to color when creating a spreadsheet. I questioned myself as to why I had such disdain for it. Many wonderful things choose orange as their color of choice.

Think about all the wonderful, nutritious foods that sustain us: oranges, carrots, pumpkins, sweet potatoes, tangerines, persimmons, butternut squash, and apricots.  I love bell peppers. Each one has a distinctive taste. The orange ones, in particular, are sweet like candy. Speaking of candy, how about orange jellybeans? If you prefer a combination, how about sweet and sour sauce?

Orange is also a color associated with safety. If you need to see a hazard ahead, orange is your color. Safety jackets and traffic cones gleam through rain or shine.

As you drive through my neighborhood in rural eastern Nebraska, you will see patches of bright orange daylilies between the road and the earthy tones of the fields. In the fall, the trees turn various colors from orangey-bronze to deep saffron. It is a hot summer sunset—beauty in nature.

Image courtesy of Dimitrisvetsikas1969 on Pixabay.

For emotional health, you find no greater friend than the color orange. If you are down and want to bring out your inner strength, indulge in looking at the color orange. It is uplifting, offers security, and puts optimism in your mood. When darkness looms, orange reminds us that there is hope. Read more about the positive traits of orange.

I’m not the only person who has not appreciated orange. I run into others who can’t find a single use for orange. But they probably, like me, never really stopped to appreciate it. Orange has gotten a bum rap. It is undeserved.

Quiet confidence is much like the color orange. It goes about its purpose, making great strides with little fanfare. Its contributions are massive but undervalued. It’s not arrogant but understated. It stands its ground with firmness and tenacity. It has great energy but does not brag. Self-assured but humble, it represents true authenticity. Like the color orange, it has many wonderful qualities. It is a goal worth striving for.

I now understand that orange is quiet confidence.

If you enjoy heroines with quiet confidence, you’ll love Kaddy Chandler. Root for her as she fights for her place against a giant law firm and finds love along the way. Now at the special low price of $0.99 for the ebook version (ends 5/31/2024).

Copyright 2024, Monica Nelson

We have experienced more change in the last four years than most of us have gone through our entire lives. While some of these changes are positive, most are negative. You may not even be aware of some of those negative effects. One such consequence is how we look at love.

Loneliness and Isolation

Stay home. Isolate yourself from the possibility of coming in contact with the virus. These were the words we heard daily. Government and business reinforced this mandate by advocating working from home. As we isolated ourselves from social contact, we began to develop feelings of loneliness and alienation. Such feelings can cause heartache and despair. We are social creatures. We need social interaction, companionship between friends, and the feel-good chemicals of physical touch.

Strengthening Our Relationships

Love is at the core of our relationships, whether they be romantic, friendly, or just plain daily connection. When we practice love for others, we build stronger and healthier bonds. Hearty relationships help us weather the storms of challenge and adversity better. Restoring healthy love supports family stability and a nurturing environment.

Fostering Mental and Physical Health

Through love, we experience less stress, have better cardiovascular health, and increase happiness. When we actively work to restore love, we build resilience that helps us face the problems of modern life.

Image courtesy of OpenClickart on Pixabay.

Self-Actualization

Love gives us purpose. We are motivated to work toward fulfillment in all areas of our lives. We live life with passion and a sense of direction. This upward emphasis helps us grow. Two important components of a higher EQ are empathy and compassion. We need love to build these important traits within ourselves. Thus, our ability to guide our emotions grows, and we become better human beings.

The pandemic put a wedge between us and our ability to flourish in love. If we want to blossom and live our best lives, we must make love a priority once again.

Get a quick infusion of love (via story) for under a dollar: My e-book romance novel, Rhythm That Surrounds Us, is at the promo price of $0.99 until May 31, 2024. Get it at Amazon.

If you prefer quick infusions of romantic love, check out these posts:

Love is a Disguise Away

In the Springtime of Love

Flying High for Love

One Plus One Equals Love

Li’l Shop of Hope . . . and Love

30 Candles and Love

Breaking the Language Barrier for Love

Opening the Door to Love

Love to the Rescue

Schooled in Love

Synchronistic Signs of Romantic Love

The Strength of Puppy Love

The Legend of True Love

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“Seriously,” Ruby said to her BFF Krystal, “What are we doing out here?”

“Having fun,” Krystal said as she pulled Ruby by the arm toward the large crowd of gathered young people.

Ruby pulled her friend close and whispered, “It doesn’t seem like a lot of fun. It sounds boring.”

“You, Ruby, darlin’, never had enough fun as a child. So, we’re going to do something different and fun. I think you’ll like it. Besides, you need to get out more. When was the last time you had a date?”

“Six months,” Ruby sighed, “When you-know-who dumped me.”

“This is exactly why you need to get out and do something different, meet different people, get your mind off that no-good-for-nothing ex of yours.”

“Let’s go back. I’m just not into this,” Ruby complained.

“Shhh, shhh, she’s starting. I’ve heard this storyteller before. She’s good.”

They sat down cross-legged on the meadowy ground. The sky was a bright blue against a backdrop of a massive forest.

Image courtesy of Berlinski on Pixabay.

An older woman in Bohemian-style garb stood and lifted her arms to the sky. She dropped her arms and pulled her full skirt outward before twirling around in a circle. She placed an index finger to her mouth and began to talk in exaggerated tones:

There is a legend of which I speak that few know of. The forest right behind us is full of magical happenings. I am about to tell the tale of an enchanted tree inhabited by small ones. Pixie-like people . . .  

Ruby placed the back of her hand to her forehead and feigned a collapse. “Oh, the drama.”

Krystal glared at her, “Be quiet. It’s a story. Shhh . . . just listen,” she scolded.

Ruby scanned the crowd. Her gaze stopped at a handsome dark-haired man to their left. He seemed as bored as she did. Just at that moment he turned to look at her. Wow she thought. She smiled a shy smile at him. He held his closed fist above his ear, tilted his head and stuck out his tongue. He mouthed the words “Kill me now.” Ruby chuckled.

Ruby returned her attention to the speaker.

 . . . this sprite of love is said to inhabit the enchanted tree of true love. For the lucky few who search for and find favor with the sprite of love, it will cause the tree to reveal its power for bringing together true lovers. Only a fortunate few are bestowed the gift of the tree of true love.

The speaker closed her eyes, brought her hands artfully up to just below her chin, and bowed her head to the crowd before walking off.

“I think I missed part of the story,” Ruby said, “Tell me about the tree of true love.”

“See, I told you that you’d like this,” Krystal said, “No one knows where the tree is but it is large and the base of it opens up into a heart shape when your true love appears. Then, it closes up again so only those called to it will find it.”

A strange sensation of warmth moved throughout Ruby’s body, and she felt a strong compulsion.

She turned to Krystal, “I have to use the restroom. I’ll be right back.”

She quickly got up. “It’s more like an outhouse, over there,” Krystal called after her.

Ruby found a row of latrines and stood studying them for a moment. Why did she say that? She didn’t need the facilities. She walked around behind them and found a dirt path, leading into the woods. Before she could stop herself, she was on the path walking toward the trees.

She had been walking in the woods for about 30 minutes when she saw an enormous tree with an opening in its base. The opening was shaped like a heart. With lush green flora in its interior.

“Whoa,” came a voice behind her. A male voice.

Image courtesy of Alanajordan on Pixabay.

She turned to see the same man she had seen earlier who she had locked eyes with. He smiled broadly, “Never seen anything like that before.”

“I don’t know why the storyteller said it was hard to find. This path brought me right here.”

“Me too. Hi,” the man said, holding out his hand in handshake gesture, “I’m Rory.”

“Ruby,” she said shaking his hand. “So, you decided to come look for it too, huh?”

“Yes,” Rory said, “I got this really weird feeling like I needed to find it. Can’t say why, but I’m glad I did.” He smiled broadly at Ruby.

Ruby could’ve stayed forever in the company of that smile, but she remembered how long she had been away. “I need to get back to my friend. She will be wondering what happened to me.”

“May I join you on your walk back?” Rory responded quickly to her.

“I’d love the company. Please join me.”

They started down the path. They hadn’t gotten 10 feet when they heard a whooshing sound. Like wind, but more distinct. They both turned back toward the sound.

In the place where the opening had been was a solid tree trunk. No hint of scar or blemish. They turned back toward one another, eyes wide, mouths open.

“Did you see that?” Rory said.

“Am I seeing things?” Ruby responded to his question with her own.

They both looked back at the large tree. It stood, tall and magnificent, no sign of the heart-shaped opening.

“I think I want to get away from here,” Ruby said, grabbing for Rory’s hands, “That is just too weird.”

“I’m sure there is a plausible explanation,” Rory said, taking her hand with both of his.

“Yes . . . a plausible . . . explanation. I’m sure.”

“Maybe we should just keep this to ourselves,” he said.

“Yes, definitely,” she said as they hurried down the path and out of the forest. The forest with a surreal tree in its midst. Maybe, if the legend was really true, she thought, they might tell their grandchildren one day.

Copyright 2023, Monica Nelson

Lindsay picked up her spoon and swung it violently seesaw fashion between her fingers. She pursed her lips, then dove the spoon headlong into her tea. What was she doing here? Sitting in a coffee shop in the middle of the morning. Waiting on a man she knew little about? In a town where she knew no one?

She looked toward the door when someone walked in. A young couple, laughing, touching one another. Well, that certainly wasn’t Robin.

Her mind trailed back to a long-lost memory. Decades before this moment. Two children, not much older than five years of age. A girl and a boy, hand-in-hand, running along a hillside. The bright, clean air of the meadow still faint in her nostrils.

A different memory. That same boy and girl under a tree, a makeshift swing attached to a strong branch. The boy was pushing her in the swing. Sailing through the air, the girl stretched an eager arm toward the sky.

Image courtesy of Bessi (Bess Hamiti) on Pixabay.

She, of course, was the girl. Robin the boy. Two clueless playmates, lost in the rapture that was childhood. Bonded to one another through the innocence and exploration of life’s first few years.

Her final memory. Robin had handed her a card. On it, a simple hand-drawn pink heart. “I think we should get married,” he had said to her.

“Yuck,” she said in response, “I never want to get married.” The card lost to the wind as they ran off toward the sun. Completely forgotten by herself until this very moment.

It floored her when he had called her out of the blue. Twenty years, almost to the day, of their final moments together. Sure, she had thought about him in passing. Why? She wasn’t sure. The strength of their short friendship laying a foundation for so many more in her life. But now, so many years later, she could barely recall his face. The smudged image became harder and harder to bring with any clarity into her mind.

This man could be a serial killer, for all she knew. The past is meant to stay in the past. She pushed the cup of tea toward the center of the table, determined to slip out the door, and back to the reality that was the present.

Just as she was about to rise and make her exit, the door opened. A handsome man of similar age, distinguished and dapper entered and eagerly looked around. His beautiful brown eyes forming a bridge in time before her own. Robin.

Her gaze caught his eye and a slow smile broadened his lips. “Lindsey,” he said as he rushed toward her, “I thought I might have missed you.”

“I was about to leave,” Lindsey said. Her mind’s thoughts rushed around in her head as she contemplated what to do next.

“I’m so glad you stayed,” he said, “May I?” He gestured toward a chair opposite her.

“Yes,” she said before she could stop herself. Within her swelled a feeling of comfort and security she had not known since childhood. Was it nostalgia? Or, something else?

“Thank you,” he said as he sat down.

“I’m curious,” she said hesitantly, “How did you happen to call on my mother?”ow Ho

He smiled. “I actually ran into her by accident. In the lobby of a hotel in New York. She was attending a conference and I was there on business. We got to talking and she told me you had just moved to Atlanta. She said that you didn’t know too many people, so . . . “

Lindsay chuckled. “So, she twisted your arm and got you to volunteer to show me around?”

Warmth surged through her body. A tingling feeling followed the warmth wherever it went. No, this thing she was experiencing was definitely not just nostalgia. The joy of their friendship as children found its way once again into her heart. Missing for so long, she welcomed its return.

“She didn’t have to twist too hard. I enjoy showing people around my city,” he said.

“Careful,” she said, “I might take you up on that offer.”

Lindsay sat on the blanket Robin had laid out in the meadow for their picnic. She watched him unload a cooler of food from the car. He had insisted on doing everything himself. It was, after all, the second anniversary of that day in the coffee shop. He had planned something special for their get-together.

In the intervening time, their friendship had not only returned, but blossomed and more. She could only dare hope what his intention for this day might be.

He made his way to the blanket and placed the cooler on the edge. Dropping to his knees, he reached forward and took her hands in his. “I have something I want to ask you,” he said.

Prickles scampered up her back. “Okay.”

“But first, I want to show you something.” He pulled out a rumpled piece of stiff paper and handed it to her.

Image courtesy of Kaboompics on Pixabay.

She looked down at the creased and worn card. On it was a faded pink, hand-drawn heart. “Do you remember when I gave this to you?”

“Yes, I do,” she pulled the 20-year-old child’s drawing to her heart and held it there with both hands.

“Do you remember what I said to you?”

“Yes,” she said, grimacing.

He smiled at her. “Please tell me you’ve changed your mind.”

Her heart began to pound loudly in her ears. “I was a child then. What did I know?”

“So, you’ve changed your mind about marriage?”

She swallowed hard. “Yes, for the right man.”

He shifted his position so he was on one knee and gently took her hand in his. “Let me be that man. Will you marry me?”

She flung her arms around him as the card flew out of her hands, “Yes, yes, I will.”

The hug moved eagerly into a passionate kiss, as the card floated gently in the breeze.

Copyright 2023, Monica Nelson

Molly grabbed her bag and suit jacket in a flurry as she headed out the door. She was late, and she hated being late. As a budding matchmaker, her business had grown in leaps and bounds. She had already acquired a lawyer to help her in that end of the business, Now, she was off to see an accountant who had been referred to her so she could get the needed help in that area.

As she rushed out the door, she pulled on her jacket while her bag swung wildly around her. Okay, she stopped long enough to take a breath and calm herself. You’re a professional, act like one. She took a deep breath and placed her key in the deadbolt. She lifted her hands, palms outward and set in place, in front of her hoping the gesture might help her maintain the temporary calm she’d just gathered.

Image courtesy of Peggy_Marco on Pixabay.

She smiled to herself and steadied her gait before moving toward the stairs. Since the pandemic happened, she’d realized how short life was. And that if she was ever to make her dream of becoming a matchmaker a reality, it had to be now. Being single herself, she had a lot of single friends of both genders. Social media filled in the gaps. And her business had taken off.

She stepped out into the sunlight and took in the fresh air into her lungs like a soothing balm. She would walk. By the time she caught the bus, she could get there faster walking. And the morning’s temperature was perfect. The sky, the birds singing, the crisp fall air. Everything was perfect.

Hopefully, that was a good sign. The meaning being that this guy was going to understand her business and help her manage the financial side so she could continue doing this thing she loved. Molly felt a rush of joy. This was a good sign. It could be nothing but. Signs were all around – all you had to do was look for them.

Image courtesy of oo110 on Pixabay.

She moved at a brisk and confident pace down the sidewalk. Before she could acknowledge the sudden urge to glimpse the sky, she looked up. There above her was a balloon, red and heart-shaped, floating upward toward the heavens. She watched it as it floated gently along, its tail rippling in the breeze. It seemed to stop its upward flight long enough to move eastward toward a bank of cotton-white clouds against the brilliant blue sky. The clouds split apart as the balloon made its way once again upward. The rift slowly shifted into its own heart shape, allowing the balloon smooth passage through its middle.

Awe filled her senses. Was this another sign? It seemed too coincidental to be anything else.

Molly reached for the door at the same time as a handsome young man dressed in a business suit and carrying a briefcase. He seemed surprised by her presence and quickly apologized. He had a vibrancy and allure to him that immediately captivated Molly.

“No worries,” she said, “Are you Callen Tapping?”

“Why yes,” he beamed back at her, “Molly Lovingham?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Come into my office. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. I’ve never met an honest-to-goodness matchmaker before.”

She moved through the door he opened for her. “And I’m hoping your skills will be a good match for my business.”

“Oh, before I forget it,” he said placing his brief case on his desk, and reaching into the pocket of his jacket. “This leaf fell right in front of me as I left home this morning. I think it’s a sign we will be a good match. Don’t you?”

Image courtesy of Castelguard (Rebekka D) on Pixabay.

She grasped the leaf with her thumb and forefinger. Taking it into her line of sight, she could see its vivid orange and yellow colors, and the leaf’s lifeblood, its veins starting at the stem and moving outward toward the edges. Directly in the center was a split, a hole, a rift that sent a chill down her back. The opening was a distinct heart shape.

Molly beamed. “It’s definitely a good sign. I get the feeling we are going to be the perfect match.”

Copyright 2023, Monica Nelson

Mary rushed into the large classroom, trying hard not to cause too much attention. The 400-level statistics class was not one she could afford to miss. It was a good thing Katie, her 16-year-old daughter, was so reliable, because 10-year-old Ryan caused more than his share of trouble. Whatever gave her the idea that she could return to school at her age and circumstances? 

She slid into one of the back row seats in the spacious lecture hall and tried to catch her breath. Three rows ahead of her, a young man turned his head and smiled directly at her. Yes, I’m late, she mouthed under her breath. These youngsters she was going to school with had their heads in Greek obsession, football games, and where the next party was being held. They knew so little of real life. 

Image courtesy of AdinaVoicu on Pixabay.

Just then, she heard the distinctive sound of jingling in her bag. She fumbled for her phone, but it was inside her bag and not easy to get at quickly. The entire assembly of her fellow classmates turned to stare at her. The professor’s face grew so red she could feel its heat all the way back to the back row.

“Did I not make clear the no phone rule in this classroom?” he said staring directly at her.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she had reached her phone and silenced it. “It won’t happen again.”

“It won’t,” he grumbled, “because you will remove yourself and your interruptions from my classroom today. And if I ever hear it again, you will be removed from this class permanently. Do I make myself clear?”

She blinked away the morning’s frustration. “Yes, sir, you do.” She picked up her bag, with its accompanying computer, books, and now silenced phone. She slipped out of the room as quickly as she had come in.

Outside, she pulled the boisterous phone out of the bag. She looked to see who it was that called her. Ryan’s teacher. Of course. What now?

Mary made her way to an open table near a vending machine in the common area just outside the classroom. She listened to a somewhat garbled message about Ryan bullying a little girl, and sighed heavily. It had been hard on him. His father leaving and she going back to school. Katie seemed to take it all in stride and was a real support to her younger brother, but maybe it was not enough. Maybe, she should give up her dream and be there for him also.

She had just finished her awkward phone call with Ryan’s teacher, promising to make an appointment with the school psychologist, when she saw a young man earnestly approaching her table. She recognized him as the very student who had smiled at her as she entered the classroom. His progress was intentionally toward her table. Now what?

“Hi,” he said as he sat down across the table from her, “I’m Connor.”

“Mary,” she said hesitantly, “What can I do for you, Connor?”

He smiled warmly at her, “I was hoping you’d let me do something for you. I took very good notes in class. Do you remember seeing me there?”

“Yes,” she said, still somewhat cloudy on what he might want.

He was a very studious looking young man, with ash brown hair and twinkling green eyes. Unlike other t-shirt wearing students, he wore a torso-flattering button-down shirt tucked into well-constructed Levi’s, his sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows. But what was his most striking feature was his hands; soft and well-formed while maintaining a rugged, masculine look. Just the kind of man she hoped to see Katie with in a few years from now.

“I was wondering if I could interest you in coffee. I have a couple hours before my next class, and I thought we could go over these notes so you are ready for the test on Thursday.”

“Oh, crap,” she said without reservation, “There’s a test on Thursday?”

“Announced just before the end of class,” he said seriously.

“Well . . . Connor,” she said, “Thank you. I can give you my e-mail and you can just send me your notes. I’m sure you have better things to do then sit in a coffee shop with an old lady like me for a couple hours.”

“On the contrary,” he said, “I’ve been looking for an excuse to meet you. I’d really like it if you would agree to let me buy you coffee.”

Mary sat back in her chair, “Me?”

Her honest response seemed to baffle him. “Yes, you.”

She sat back, “What a compliment. But, I’m old enough to be your mother. In fact, I have children, the oldest no more than a few years younger than you. What are you . . . 22?”

“Twenty-one,” he said, taking on a more defiant tone, “An adult just like yourself.”

“But the age difference . . . ?”

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He chuckled. “If there’s anything I’ve learned since going to college, it’s that you’re far happier when you don’t limit yourself to predetermined beliefs. So what if I’m younger than you?”

“Twenty-one,” she said. Her ex had run off with a 23-year-old woman from his office. But that scenario – a man in midlife crisis, chasing a much younger woman, was practically a cliché. She certainly never would have imagined herself getting involved with a younger man. Still, he was very nice, seemed mature for his age, and was interested enough in her to spend a couple hours talking about statistics in order to help her pass a crucial test. On top of that, he had a humble, but smoldering, sex appeal, that seemed to grow on her minute-by-minute the more he reached out to her.

“Take a chance,” he said, “Coffee and notes is all I ask. If nothing more comes of it, then neither of us has lost much, have we?”

A glow grew up within her. The kind of glow that happens when unexpected doors open. She had a feeling it would be more than “coffee and notes.” She’d been so unhappy for so long. Maybe this was her opportunity for new love.

She smiled broadly, a from-the-heart smile. Picking up her books, she said, “Let’s go.”

Copyright 2023, Monica Nelson