Inspiration 48

janettaylorperry.com

Job 6:14A To him that is afflicted pity should be shewed from his friend...

When I finally got the courage to share my writing with others, my friend, Betsy Creekmore told me I should talk to her friend Patty Carr Black. I garnered the nerve to visit Patty. She told me most of her writing was nonfiction and the person I needed to talk to was her friend, Lottie Brent Boggan, but Lottie was in Europe. Patty said she'd give her my phone number when she got back to the States. Well, I thought that was the end of that. Several weeks passed before my son gave me a message from "Lottie Bogan." I almost fainted. I called her back, and she invited me to attend a writers' group, The Red Dog Writers. I did, and those ladies have become dear friends and great sounding boards. Boy! I learned quick to grow a thick skin with some of their critiques. Lottie also became my mentor and editor. She doesn't pull punches, and I listen to 99% of her advice and suggestions. I now also edit, so if you're looking for an editor, you must be willing to edit and rewrite--put on your big kid underwear. I know that none of these ladies ever said anything to be malicious, but to make me grow as a writer. They have been so beneficial and supportive. Thank you.

Now, Aidan is afflicted with grief. Will he find a friend?

2

Crazy Old Diggory

Walking toward the dilapidated hut through the litter-strewn yard, Aidan had to summon all the courage he could find. He had always been afraid of crazy old Diggory, the only surviving member of his father's crew. Seeing coils of rope, fishing nets, and pikes did not put him at ease. The wind blew bits of garbage against his feet, and it seemed the breeze once again, whispered, "Destiny." The vision of a white dragon flashed across Aidan's mind once more. He blew out a breath, feeling disconcerted.

As Aidan approached, the stooped old man thrust the door open and shrieked, "Who are ye, and what do ye want? Canna ye young heathens leave me in peace?"

Aidan stopped in his tracks. He was taken aback by the appearance of this frail old soul. He appeared to be bent almost double with a hump on his back. He was swarthy and completely bald; his chin was covered in a scraggly mixture of auburn and gray and he leaned on a cane carved from a knotted piece of wood. Aidan remembered someone much bigger and more intimidating. Can this really be the same Diggory? That's the old man from the cemetery.

Diggory's eyes squinted, and he motioned for Aidan to come closer. "I canna see ye from this distance. Me eyes be ol'," he growled.

Aidan crossed the yard to be close to Diggory. The younger man held his breath and his head drooped. The ancient mariner reached out a big, rough, gnarled hand to lift the chin of the boy. "Me eyes be fine, so let me see yers. Aye," whispered Diggory with the gentleness of a dove. "'Tis ye almost grown to a man. Ye 'ave yer father's eyes and size, but the rest of ye be yer wee precious mother. God rest 'er soul." He squinted again. "Ah, ye 'ave 'is ears, even that little pointy thing. Just loike Duncan and yer grandfather."

"Me grandfather?" Aidan asked.

"Aye." Diggory nodded. "Come in, me boy, to me 'umble abode. Will ye 'ave a bit o' soup with me?"

The townspeople think ya aire crazy. The little children aire frightened of ya. Even I was afraid when I was a youngster."

"And now that ye be all grown up and met ol' Diggory yer fears be allayed," teased Diggory.

"I know not. Ya seem harmless, even likeable."

Diggory laughed aloud. "Ye be much loike yer father. He said almost the same thing twenty years ago."

Aidan sighed.

With a touch to Aidan's hair, Diggory said, "Ye be safe and home now, me boy. Ol’ Diggory be spared all these years to take care o' ye. Tonight ye sleep on a pad. On the morrow, we be afetchin' yer bed and aputtin' it near mine. We be arentin' yer place out. Ain't no reason to try to keep up two places. Yer daddy wudda wanted it that way."

Weary from the pressures of the day, Aidan began to sob. The old man hugged the boy and tenderly patted his head. He cooed in a soothing voice, "It be all roight to mourn yer mam, baby. There be no shame in that. Ye be a wee bairn yet."

Overwrought, Aidan released all his pent-up tensions in the embrace of a man he hardly knew, yet felt drawn to. A third time, the word, "Destiny," played through the boy's thoughts as a white dragon flashed in his mind's eye. The scent of sweet spices, tobacco, and whiskey burned into his memory as Diggory—not crazy, just odd.

That night Aidan slept peacefully with a feeling he belonged to somebody, but he awoke with the burning desire to know the truth.

Then, they settled into a time of getting to know each other with Aidan daily nagging to hear about his father.

Cover by Christopher Chambers. juroddesigns.com

I searched forever to find someone who might be my Aidan, but I have only ever pictured one person as Diggory.  I give you Aidan and Diggory.