Well, today's the big day.  Today a few of the authors from "The Ice-Cream Stand" are presenting a panel discussion at the Concord Festival of Authors! http://www.concordfestivalofauthors.com/2012/events/  
I'm pretty nervous, but am certain that it will be a friendly crowd and my co-presenters are all great women.
It's been a long time since my last post as I've been without a computer.  Recently I was the lucky recipient of a new lap top and am etremely grateful - thankyou!

Space between

Jane’s throat was tight, raw and tired; the feeling was distant from the conscious moment.  This moment, sunshine, clear and to the west, no pain or sadness could encroach.

The car, her mechanical alter ego, functional and fast, great pick-up, hands firmly at ten and two on the cool leather wheel, that little needle hitting ninety. Freedom, but for the foot on the gas pedal, giving little resistance, the gear snugly rested off to the far lower right, sun ahead, rocketing down the clear open highway.

Carnegie hall; the weavers reunion on cd, her voice bellowing as one would never dare in church or even at home where children’s’ eyes were in continual states of rolling, rather like the old packers bobble head her dad kept in his workshop when she was a kid.  Surprised this release of familiar melody was possible with the other woman sitting in the passenger seat.

Maybe a cord of youth’s comfort remained, from back when this was her family and the woman knew her inside and out.  Car singing as they piled into the old metallic rust dodge, sitting behind her mother and sister sitting behind their dad, who always did the driving. They sang and harmonized while crisscrossing the nation.  Seeking a new home or journeying to a home that was never really her home, but held the pull of a known place we thought fit us merely because the parents were children there.

Today; euphoric harmonizing, knowing every song. Songs from the mother’s youth and from the middling daughter’s life, which she had also sung to her children.  Maybe her children will one day allow unrestrained song to escape their souls.

Singing through state after state as the sun dropped beyond the western horizon. The previously rich, fresh aroma of coffee congealed to a cold and bitter fluid. Troubles, food and coffee forgotten; the older woman and her middle aged daughter fully in that moment, everything of the place they left and the place to which they were headed was forgotten. Just two women, friends, in a metal rocket island singing their way across the country.

Release of love and fear, home and the unknown; singing until sheer exhaustion forced them to stop.