Number-one bestselling author
I watched them
swim, the water
moving over their
bodies like quicksilver.
Colin swam up
to me. I was
sitting on the
edge of the pool.
“Why don’t you come in and play?”
He asked me.
“The water feels really good.”
I shook my
head, unsure of
what was holding
me back. The
sun came out
and it glanced
off of Colin’s
skin, highlighting the
muscles in his chest.
“I want to.”
He splashed me
with some water.
“So come in and play. You already got your feet wet. What’s the problem?”
I took a
moment to think
about all of it.
“I wrote my romance novels when I was unhappy. I wrote them when I had love, but it wasn’t real.”
Colin smiles and
sluices himself with
water so that
he is glistening.
“So?”
“So? Now I have love, real and true love.”
He grinned mischievously
at me. He
swam even closer.
“Then what’s the problem? Shouldn’t having true love only enrich your stories? Don’t you want to share that kind of love with others?”
I thought about
his words. I
had assumed that
writing romances when
I was with
someone who made
me happy would
be some kind
of betrayal. Instead,
it was a
reflection of that
kind of love.
I tried again.
“I wrote about broken men finding love in the most unlikely of ways. I don’t to write that kind of character anymore.”
Laughing, Colin splashed
me with more water.
“So don’t. You now have a different kind of love then you were used to. So write that. And I don’t think that any of them were broken.”
“You don’t?”
“No. They were brave enough to accept the gift of love, even though it terrified them. As you were brave enough to do with the love you have now.”
He reached out
and touched the
place on my
chest where my
heart lay beneath.
“You need to celebrate that kind of love.”
I tried one
more time to
make my case.
“But I want to write something important, something that touches people.”
Colin gave me
a stern look.
“And doesn’t every romance do that? Do they not connect right to a person’s heart, making them feel pure and true emotion? What’s more important than that?”
He put his
hand on my
shoulder and looked
at me right
in the eyes.
I almost lost
in their colour,
a light hazel,
flecked with bits
of gold and
green. He leaned
in closer to
me and I
smelled spice and
a citrus scent.
“Listen to your heart. It knows what it wants to write. Right?”
Colin began to
swim closer to
where Percy was
waiting for him,
the water gliding
off of Percy’s
body as he
stood to meet
his lover. Colin
looked back at
me, raising a
hand to his
eyes to block
the bright sun.
“Hey, do Percy and I get a happy ending?”
I laughed out
loud at the question.
“Doesn’t every romance end with a happy ending?”
I stood and
went back inside,
itching to write
about a different
kind of love.
This poem is for Michael for our two year anniversary. I often find that my words are lacking and can’t truly capture how I feel about you, but they will have to do.
Love you Michael, so very much.
When we first started
on our journey together,
we made a seed of light.
We planted it in the ground
and over time, we made sure
that it had all it could need
so that it could grow into
something wonderful.
Our love was like water
to the seed, nurturing it
within the ground.
Our support for each other
was like the earth,
keeping it safe storms.
Every time we said
“I love you.”
to each other, that was
like the wind. And
every time we felt our
hearts growing bigger with
love for each other,
that was like the sun,
shining down upon it.
Now our seed has grown
into a tree that stretches
its branches out from
the earth and into the sky.
Its branches reach into the
clouds themselves and along
all of the branches, there are
mementos and ornaments
of the time we’ve spent together.
I can hardly wait to see
where the tree will take us
and how we will grow with it,
until it touches the heavens
and beyond.
This is for Rachael who is lovely and fabulous. Happy Birthday! 🙂
There is a joy that
comes from you and
fills others with brightness.
There is a wisdom that
resides inside of you
that is beyond your years.
Countless times, you’ve
given counsel and comfort,
asking nothing in return.
Your laughter is like
sweetest music; it fills
the air around it with
light. Sometimes, I
swear that I can see
when you laugh. It is
infectious and beautiful,
just as you are. Often,
I am in awe of your courage,
your strength, your determination.
You are a joy and inspiration
to all who know you.
You are made from
stars and light and
everything wonderful.
It is 1976 and Martha has been lost all of her life and has no idea how her story begins.
Found in a suitcase in the Lime Street station in Liverpool, she has lived her whole life under the domineering finger of her Mother, an overly religious woman who fears the devil. Martha works at the stations lost property office. It’s a good fit for Martha has a gift for finding things and the people they belong to.
Her life changes when Mother passes away. Not sure what part of her story has begun, perhaps part six. She tries to settle into her new motherless life, but somehow still under her thumb. Martha is the Liver Bird of Lime Street and has never left Lime Street station. Without her, the station would crumble to nothingness.
Thank goodness she has a few distractions in her life. There is Elizabeth that works next door in the coffee bar. She’s always encouraging Martha to let go and be free and always has a slice of cake for her. There’s a boy that’s dressed as a Roman solider that watches her from afar. There’s also a homeless man that uses a fishing pole to snag food out of rubbish bins.
There’s even an Australian tourist, Max, who has a suitcase full of Beatles recordings and photos that were thought to be lost. He asks for Martha’s help to find the ashes of Mal Evans, a man that is credited with helping the Beatles on their rise to stardom.
Then Martha receives a letter from station management asking her to provide her birth certificate and her National Insurance Number or face eviction. The lost property office is all she has ever known, her whole world.
Elizabeth tells her to write to someone that could help her so Martha devises a plan. She places a poster on the wall outside the lost property office that reads: DO YOU KNOW MY MOTHER OR FATHER? She receives an answer written throughout the entirety of The Song of the Lark by Willa Cather and thus starts communication with someone who perhaps knows how her story started.
Will Martha be brave enough to find out who she really is?
My plot summary fails to capture the magic of this novel. It does nothing to capture the depth of emotion and the sheer joy of reading it, nor does it capture the heart. There’s simply no way that a summary of events in the novel will capture that. This is a novel that isn’t merely read; you experience every moment and live right along with Martha as she learns who she is and what matters most.
For me, reading this novel felt like travelling back in time. The Finding of Martha Lost has a luminescent quality to its story and its pages. It was almost as if I were flipping through an old photo album, so real was Martha Lost.
I love the characters that people this novel in surprising ways. Elizabeth and George Harris, always dressed as a Roman solider. There’s William who my heart just went out to and then there’s Martha, lovely Martha with her love of books, that I just wanted to reach into the pages and hug so I could offer some sort of comfort. The characters that people this novel are that real, that lifelike.
The true prowess of Wallace’s writing lies in the fact that she deals with some terrible life issues, yet the novel still feels magical. It deals with religious mania, abandonment, having a baby out of wedlock, the war and how it affected the lives of everyone around them and secrets that are too painful to share. Wallace manages to cover all this and more and still the novel reads like a wonderful fairy tale for adults that does what all good fairy tales do: It teaches us something about ourselves along the way and helps us believe in magic once again.
I will miss Martha, Elizabeth, William and George Harris with all my heart. Thankfully, they will be waiting for me when I once again pick up The Finding of Martha Lost and let myself be transported back in time.
There is a light inside of me,
made from the stars and the sun.
It shines bright and beautiful
and touches everything I do.
Sometimes, my body can’t
contain the light. It flows
from my body, leaving
sparkles in my wake
as I walk. The glitter
rides on the wind until
everyone else is entranced
and they, too, are dancing.