Finding Home Mystery Series by Barbara Howard

Author:Barbara Howard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Barbara Howard
Published: 2020-12-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Traci

TRACI STOOD NEXT TO the northern wall of her bedroom and spread out the yoga mat on the hardwood floor. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She counted to ten and tried to reign in her imagination that had drifted to a memory of her last day at Jay’s fitness center with Randall. His arms wrapped tightly around her while she tried to squeeze out of his embrace, embarrassed at his amorous displays in front of the crowd of sweaty athletes. And, still she had thought, “Never let me go.”

She opened the “Better & Brighter” yoga app on her phone and started with the first position.

Chime. Mountain.

“Today is Tuesday, and I'm okay. Tomorrow is Wednesday, and I will be okay.”

She missed Randall's strength around her, the weight of his body making her feel grounded and safe. Now she felt adrift. She felt angry, sad, lonely, all the toxic emotions that she needed to exhale and release. Another deep breath.

“My feelings are real. My feelings are valid. They are mine to keep or let go.”

Yes, her feelings were valid. “I just wish I didn't have so many of them,” she mused, trying to arrange her memories in a neat row so her mind could respond without the whirlwind of emotions.

“Today I choose to let go of ...” The app chimed again.

Change position. Downward Facing Dog.

She stretched down and forward and held the position. Her world had become smaller, a life locked into a state of inertia inside Casa de Tracinda. A parade of familiar faces coming and going throughout the day like clockwork. The voices of strangers set her off. She didn't remember how they set her off. She just remembered waking up with a migraine and an unexpected groggy feeling. She wasn't sure if they had given her a shot or not that night. Maybe she asked if they did and forgot. Maybe she remembered and decided it didn't matter either way. Now each morning she would sit on the edge of her bed and stare at her feet waiting for a phone alert to remind her the day and time, to put on slippers, to make an effort to be present. Even her monthly cycle was off now.

Anyway, familiar faces only. Reverend Mac would call before noon. Milo would be downstairs with the Family Alliance counselor doing schoolwork preparing for fall enrollment, stacking up the mail, and paying the most urgent bills. Moe would be dropping off food and checking on her welfare without mentioning how short-staffed he was now that Milo was her de facto care giver.

She didn’t understand how a person could see something so brutal and traumatic one minute and totally forget that they saw it the next. But here she was with this hole of time that she couldn’t measure in minutes, hours or days. Survival instinct, they say. Her mind decided she needed to survive. So, she did. Some emotional defense mechanism with a fancy name, according to the KMP grief counselor whose questions she refused to answer other than a simple, “fine” or “okay.

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