Manzanillo Sun article

Bad Metaphor Heaven

2013 Entertainment May 2013

By Manzanillo Sun Writer from the May 2013 Edition

Writing You Grow To Hate

It was a dark and stormy night that I will never forget. Slowly but surely the broken bridge twisted like the strings of my heart.

My life flashed before my eyes grade school, high school, my first job, the dating Michel for two years. It seemed like yesterday that he swept me off my feet I had been working at a nursing home where the residents complained incessantly about their trials and tribulations. They felt that life had passed them by and left them in the dust. I could relate.

Suddenly, without warning, a handsome visitor caught my eye. Little did I know how much he would change my life. He was the grandson of Mrs. Appleby, a senior citizen who always needed a shoulder to cry on. I pushed myself to the limit and listen to her tales of woe every day. Her grandson was Michael. When she saw him her eyes lit up as tears of joy ran down her cheeks. Instantly he and I hit it off. Later, he said goodbye to Mrs. Appleby and to me. In a wink, he was gone. I hoped it wasn’t a once in a lifetime encounter. It wasn’t.

He called that evening and asked, “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like that?” We laughed and talked for hours, and it seemed like we were a match made in heaven, because we had so much in common; we were two of a kind. He asked me out for a drive the following night.

It was raining cats and dogs, and the wind was howling. He looked nervous, but went out of his way to put my mind at ease as we approached the rickety old bridge. I trusted him with my life even though I had a sneaky suspicion that he was not experienced at driving in the rain. As a matter of fact, it crossed my mind that this might have been the very first time he had ever driven a car. As the bridge moaned and groaned, he panicked.

“Jump!” He screamed at the top of his lungs. He flung himself out of the car to safety just as the bridge gave way. It was clear he was not looking out for me. My door was stuck tighter than a drum, so I climbed out the window and grabbed a support cable as the car slipped into the raging river. The rain fell in buckets washing away my tears of disappointment.

“How could he do this to me?” I wondered as I hung on for dear life. I inched my way along the cable and finally reached a place where I leaped to safety.

On that day, I vowed to put my heart under lock and key, and throw myself into my work at the nursing home. But one hot, sunny day, long after I knew I had gotten over him that vow slipped my mind, and I fell head over heels in love with a dashing gentleman who leaves nothing to be desired.


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