Whispers of Encouragement

Bronwyn whispers words of encouragement when she takes a leap of faith to follow dreams.

"I can do this." I whisper to myself just before clicking the purchase button securing my place on my flight to Paris. I was really going to do this. It was no longer a dream. All those conversations mom and I had had were now going to become a reality.

The last six months had been hard. After mom's death, my brother Gerald had become too much to handle at times. He and his wife, Audrey, had been vindictive and greedy grabby. It had gotten to the point where my aunt had refused them access to the house unless both of us could be present to monitor them. She'd gone so far as to change the locks and not give him a key. He had been furious.

This decision had been solidified after my aunt had found Audrey counting the silverware. Silverware she had no interest in. She'd said so herself during a family gathering when she had remarked on the plainness of the set.

"I'd sell it and the china too. See how much you could get for it, I doubt it would be much." she had remarked without seeming to care that my mother had overheard.

"That bitch will never get her grubby hands on my silver... or anything else I hold dear." Those words echoed in my head after Gerald had nabbed the new television set and the dining table and chairs when I had been away working on of the few days he had come to 'visit' our mother in the hospital. The day he'd barely laid eyes on her before scuttling off to swipe some of the things he could sell.

I found out about the sales because my cousin had seen some of the things up on a website.

I still remember the hollow feeling I'd had when I had gotten home that day only to find the dining room emptied of my mother's antique table and chairs. He'd left the sideboard hutch only because he had run out of time and didn't want me showing up to see him taking it.

Now everything had been sorted. The house and estate catalogued and sold. The funds split. Gerald had been ruthless about getting more than his fair share "because I am the oldest."

"Doesn't work that way," my uncle had told him as we barely recognized my brother and his greed. A greed amplified by his wife's insistence.
With everything on the market I had moved in with my aunt and uncle while I finished out teaching the school year. The commute had been a bit treacherous during the winter, but with spring and the return of fine weather things had been better. I enjoyed seeing the season change. The world coming back to life. There was a mellow sadness to it when I remembered how my mother had enjoyed the changes. The fact that she'd never see them again made me feel heavy and grey, but the sun shining also reminded me that she was still with me - looking out for me from above.

I swear I could hear her whisper, "Yes, you can do this."

"I can do this." has been my mantra through al the tough times, but now that the darkness was lifting, the mantra felt lighter too. More hopeful, capable and even, kickass. I let a smile bloom on my face. I was really going to do this. Starting in Paris at the end of June, just before the Creative Writing Program started at the Paris American Academy. It would be weird to be out of the country for Canada Day, but I'd still celebrate in my own way.

My aunt had surprised me a week ago with a letter from my mother. I had taken it with shaky hands and she had given me space to sit with it and read it when I was good and ready. I had sat with it, but set it aside. Some part of me were not ready to hear her last words.

Last night I opened it after taking my tea out to the gazebo to watch the sunset.

My dear, sweet Bronwyn,
You are my heart. The time we spent together meant so much to me. The plans we made for you to follow your dreams meant the world. I do not want to see you settle and waste your life here. I want you to follow that wonderful heart of yours. Go to Paris. Live the life of the writer you are meant to be. I believe there is so much more out there for you if you follow your dreams.
Don't stay small. Grab life by the balls and kick ass.
To make this possible I set up an account for you that your brother knows nothing about. I had a feeling he was not going to make things easy for you. I set it up so that it was not part of my estate. Your aunt helped me organize this and she will help you access the funds.
Promise me that you will take at least a year. The funds are available to make this possible even if the courts tie up the estate. I don't want you to put this off. You deserve to be happy and to follow your dreams.
I love you for always.
Mom.

Tears sprang to my eyes and I let them fall down my cheeks without wiping them away. I read her words again before hugging the letter with its soft pink paper to my chest. The words reminded me of our conversations and all the time we planned my travels to Europe and Great Britain. It was like following my dream, let her glimpse into a world beyond her where she could still be. She wanted me to follow my dreams.

I always felt she had given up so much to get married after she got pregnant with Gerald. She had married his father and tired to make the most of it. It was a fateful day when Darren McCormick had been killed after trying to drive home drunk. So many times he had made it home and taken his fists to her and she had endured.

Ten years after his death she had met my father who had accepted and loved them both. I was her 'crowning glory' she had called me. It angered Gerald. His pettiness had been hard to bare at times, but my father had kept him in check.

Gerald had already finished school and university before my Dad got sick. Gerald married Audrey only a couple of months after his funeral and although mom went as mother of the groom she and I often thought Gerald picked the date to rub salt in my mother's wounds. He was married, she was not. Their moving to Windsor seemed like another kick. Leaving mother alone, but she had never succumbed to his woundings and that riled him further.

This letter and that account were her way of circumventing what she thought he might do and she refused to let me be further burdened by his darkness and underhanded cruelty.

I felt a rippling of freedom bubble up around me bathing me in hopefulness.

word count = 1206

Notes ▼

Written for Deadlines for Writers.
Ideal is 1200 words. The range will be 1150 to 1250 words. So that makes my story okay.