THE CORNER 4 WOMEN

Wednesday, 16 October 2024

"DAN AND MARTHA'S LAST RIDE"

"DAN AND MARTHA'S LAST RIDE"
(author unknown)

Dan, a grizzled old Harley-Davidson biker, stood outside the retirement home in the Bronx, his eyes fixed on the window of Martha's room. He had been planning this moment for weeks, and he couldn't wait any longer. He took a deep breath, slipped on his leather jacket, and walked inside.

Martha, his wife of over 40 years, sat in her favourite armchair, her eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Dan handed her a helmet and a small bag. "Time to go, sweetheart," he whispered, helping her up from the chair.

They made their way to the parking lot, where Dan had "acquired" a sleek, black Harley-Davidson Softail. Martha's eyes widened as she saw the bike. "You didn't..." she started, but Dan just winked.

They hit the road, cruising through the concrete jungle of New York City, the wind whipping their hair as they made their way west. Their destination was Niagara Falls, a place Martha had always wanted to visit before she passed away. Dan was determined to grant her wish, and his own – one last ride on a Harley.

As they rode, they reminisced about their life together. They met at the Sturgis Rally, where Dan was immediately smitten with Martha's fiery spirit and striking looks. She was riding her own bike, a Harley-Davidson Sportster, and Dan was hooked. They spent the rest of the rally together, exploring the Black Hills and getting to know each other.

Their first trip together was to Daytona Beach, Florida, for Bike Week. They rode down in style, Martha on the back of Dan's bike, her hair flowing in the wind. They spent their days cruising the beach, attending bike shows, and dancing the night away.

Over the years, they travelled extensively, exploring the Ozarks, where they fell in love with the rolling hills, crystal-clear lakes, and dense forests. They camped under the stars, built a campfire, and cooked their meals on a portable grill. Those were the days they cherished the most.

They rode through Texas, marvelling at the vast, open plains and the warm hospitality of the people. They cruised up the Pacific Coast Highway, stopping at scenic overlooks, and taking in the breath-taking views of the ocean. They even made it to Seattle, Washington, where they visited the iconic Space Needle and sampled the city's vibrant music scene.

As they rode, Martha would sometimes take the handlebars, her eyes shining with a mischievous glint. Dan loved those moments, feeling the wind in his hair as Martha took control of the bike.

Now, as they made their way to Niagara Falls, they took their time, stopping frequently to rest and sleep overnight. They'd sit on park benches, holding hands, and reminiscing about their adventures. Dan would tell stories about his time in the military, and Martha would share tales of her childhood on a farm in rural Ohio.

On the third day, they crossed into Pennsylvania, the landscape shifting from urban sprawl to rolling hills and picturesque farmland. Martha's eyes sparkled as they rode through the countryside, the wind carrying the scent of fresh-cut grass and blooming wildflowers.

Finally, on the fourth day, they arrived at Niagara Falls. Dan pulled over at a scenic overlook, and they sat together, taking in the majesty of the falls. Martha gasped, her eyes shining with tears. "It's beautiful," she whispered.

Dan put his arm around her, holding her close. "I'm glad we made it, sweetheart," he said, his voice choked with emotion.

They spent the day exploring the falls, holding hands, and taking in the sights. They rode the Maid of the Mist, getting soaked in the process, but laughing and screaming together like they used to.

As the sun began to set, Dan and Martha found a quiet spot to watch the stars come out. They sat together, holding hands, and reminiscing about their life. Dan pulled out a small box from his jacket pocket and handed it to Martha.

"What's this?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"A little something I picked up along the way," Dan said, his eyes twinkling.

Martha opened the box, revealing a beautiful silver necklace with a small Harley-Davidson logo pendant. She gasped, tears streaming down her face. "I love it," she whispered.

Dan helped her put it on, his hands trembling with emotion. "I love you, Martha," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Martha turned to him, her eyes shining with love. "I love you too, Dan," she replied.

As the stars twinkled above, Dan and Martha shared a tender kiss, the roar of the falls providing a soothing background hum. They knew this was their last adventure together, but they were grateful for the time they had, and the memories they created.

The next morning, Dan and Martha packed up their belongings and began their journey back home. They took their time, stopping at quaint roadside diners and scenic overlooks, savouring every moment together.

As they rode, Martha's health began to decline, her energy waning with each passing mile. Dan knew he had to get her back home soon, but he also knew she wanted to ride, to feel the wind in her hair and the sun on her face.

They stopped for the night at a cosy bed and breakfast, where Martha collapsed onto the bed, exhausted. Dan sat beside her, holding her hand, and talking softly to comfort her.

The next morning, they set off early, determined to make it back to the Bronx. Martha's condition worsened, and Dan knew he had to get her to a hospital. He pulled over at a small town, and with the help of some friendly locals, got Martha admitted to the local hospital.

Dan stayed by her side, holding her hand, and talking to her softly. The doctors and nurses came and went, but Dan didn't leave her side. He knew this was the end, and he wanted to be with her every step of the way.

As the sun began to set, Martha's eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at Dan. "I'm glad we did it," she whispered, a faint smile on her lips.

Dan's eyes welled up with tears. "Me too, sweetheart," he replied, his voice shaking with emotion. "Me too."

Martha's eyes closed, and Dan held her hand, feeling her life slip away. He stayed with her, holding her close, until the very end.

The next morning, Dan rode his Harley back to the Bronx, alone. He returned to the retirement home, where the staff welcomed him back with open arms. Dan handed over the keys to the stolen Harley, a small smile on his face.

"I took her on one last ride," he said, his eyes misting up. "She always wanted to see Niagara Falls, and I wanted to grant her wish."

The staff nodded, understanding in their eyes. "You did the right thing, Dan," one of them said. "You gave her the gift of adventure, one last time."

Dan nodded, feeling a sense of peace wash over him. He knew he'd done the right thing, for Martha, and for himself. He'd given her the adventure of a lifetime, and in doing so, had found closure for himself.

As he walked away from the retirement home, Dan felt the wind in his hair, and the sun on his face. He smiled, knowing Martha was with him, in spirit, and that their adventures would live on forever.

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"A KING AND HIS FOUR WIVES"

"A KING AND HIS FOUR WIVES" (author unknown)

Once upon a time, there was a King who had four wives.

He loved the fourth wife the most, spoiling her with his deepest affection and providing her with only the finest things life could offer.

He also loved the third wife and proudly displayed her to the neighbouring kingdoms.

He relied a lot on his second wife. She was his trusted advisor and companion. Whenever the King faced a problem, he could confide in her, and she would help him get through the difficult times.

However, not much can be said about his first wife. Despite her significant contributions to maintaining his kingdom and her tireless efforts to win his love and admiration, the King barely noticed her existence.

One day, the King fell gravely ill. Despite his efforts to find a cure, he realized that his time was running out.

He reflected on his majestic life and decided to spend everything to prolong it, leading him to consult a mystical sorcerer. The sorcerer said, “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but nothing can be done. Your death is imminent. However, I will grant you the chance to take one wife with you into the afterlife.”

Thus, he asked his fourth wife, “I have given you nothing but the best in life. Now that I’m dying, will you accompany me into the afterlife?”

“No way!”, replied the fourth wife, and she walked away without saying a word.

The sad King then asked the third wife.

“No!” replied the third wife. “Life is too good here! I’ll stay! When you die, I’m going to remarry!”

He then asked his second wife.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t go with you,” replied the second wife. “I can only see you to the edge of your grave.”

The King’s heart sank, and he felt a deep sense of despair. He was utterly devastated.

Then he heard a weary, sad voice, speaking softly: “I’ll go with you. I’ll follow you no matter where you go.”

The King looked up and saw his first wife as if for the first time. She appeared aged beyond her years, barely recognizable due to years of neglect. With deep regret, the King said, “I should have taken much better care of you while I had the chance!”

MORAL:

We all have these four wives in our lives.

The FOURTH wife is our BODY.

We often shower our body with the most affection, spending our lives adorning it with exquisite clothing and ornaments. Yet, in the end, it will abandon us when we die.

Our THIRD wife is our POSSESSIONS.

We invest much of our time and energy in accumulating wealth, but none of it will accompany us when we die. Instead, it will be divided and passed on to others.

Our SECOND wife is our friends, family, and relatives.

We love and trust them, and in return, they offer us comfort and support when we need it. However, no matter how long they remain by our side, they can only accompany us up to the point of our burial.

And our FIRST wife is our SPIRIT.

We often neglect our spirits in the pursuit of wealth, pleasure, and power, not realizing that it is only our spirit that accompanies us after death. While it's important to take care of our bodies by staying healthy and exercising, and to enjoy time with loved ones, we must also remember to nurture our greatest treasure: our spirit.

To lead a fulfilling life, it’s essential to find balance in caring for the four aspects of our existence: our body, our earthly possessions, our relationships, and our spirit. By giving each of these areas the attention they deserve, we create a harmonious life where we are not only prepared for the end but also enriched in the present.

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Monday, 14 October 2024

"LIES MY MOM TOLD ME"

"LIES MY MOM TOLD ME" (author unknown)

This story began when I was a child. I was born into a poor family that often didn’t have enough food to fill our hungry stomachs. During meal times, Mother would give me her portion of rice. As she transferred her rice into my bowl, she would always say, “Eat this rice, son. I’m not hungry.”

That was Mother’s First Lie.

As I grew up, my persevering mother spent her spare time fishing to provide me with nutrition. She would cook fresh fish soup for me, and while I ate, she would sit beside me, quietly picking at the remnants left on the fish bones I had finished. Feeling touched, I would offer her the other fish portion, but she always refused, saying, “Eat the fish, son. I don’t really like fish.”

That was Mother’s Second Lie.

When I was in junior high school, Mother took on extra work assembling used matchboxes to help fund my studies. One night, I woke up and saw her still working by candlelight. I said, “Mom, go to sleep. It’s late, and you have to work tomorrow.” She smiled and replied, “Go to sleep, dear. I’m not tired.”

That was Mother’s Third Lie.

The final term arrived, and Mother took leave from work to be with me. She patiently waited for hours in the heat while I finished my exam. When it ended, she welcomed me and poured a cup of tea from a flask. Seeing her covered in sweat, I offered her my cup, but she pushed it back and said, “Drink, son. I’m not thirsty!”

That was Mother’s Fourth Lie.

After my father died, my mother had to provide for us alone. Life became harder, more complicated, and we suffered daily. Despite our worsening situation, we were blessed with a kind old man who visited and helped us occasionally. Neighbours often advised my mom to remarry, but she refused, saying, “I don’t need love.”

That was Mother’s Fifth Lie.

After I finished my studies and got a job, it was time for my mom to retire. But she didn’t want to, she went to the marketplace every morning to sell vegetables to support herself. I worked in another city and often sent her money to help, but she wouldn’t accept it. Sometimes, she even sent the money back, saying, “I have enough money.”

That was Mother’s Sixth Lie.

With my Bachelor's Degree, I pursued a Master's funded by a company scholarship and got a job there. I planned to bring my mother to live with me so she could enjoy her life in the city, but she didn’t want to inconvenience me. She said, “I’m not used to that kind of life, son.”

That was Mother’s Seventh Lie.

In her later years, Mother became seriously ill and needed to be hospitalized. I travelled across the ocean to be by her side. She lay weak and exhausted on her bed after surgery, her frail appearance a stark reminder of the toll the illness had taken. Though she tried to smile warmly, it was clear it took considerable effort on her part. Seeing her like this broke my heart, and my tears flowed freely without me even realizing. Despite her own suffering, she gathered her remaining strength and said softly, “Don’t cry, my dear. I’m not in pain.”

That was Mother’s Eighth and Last Lie.

After uttering her final lie, my beloved mother closed her eyes forever, leaving behind a poignant silence that spoke louder than words ever could.

I realized that the greatest acts of love are often hidden behind simple, everyday sacrifices. Cherish the silent struggles of those who love us, for they reveal the depth of their devotion.

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"WHEN ALL IT TOOK" by Joanne Boyle

"WHEN ALL IT TOOK"
by Joanne Boyle

When all it takes is one person

to knock you off your feet.

Hang in there.

When all it took were the words

from someone down the street.

Hang in there.

When all it took was a memory,

when someone knocked you down.

Hang in there.

When all it took was a minute

to turn a smile into a frown.

Hang in there.

When all it took was a look

to make you feel so small.

Hang in there

When obstacles become deliberate

in the hope to see you fall.

Hang in there.

When love hearts turn to dust

and glitter disappears.

Hang in there.

When you wake up from a dream

with your pillow wet from tears.

Hang in there.

When you feel the hope you clung to

escaping from your mouth.

Hang in there.

When you can't find your direction

and run from North to South.

Hang in there.

When yesterday's sunshine

was clouded by the rain.

Hang in there.

For tomorrow is another day

to find yourself again.

Joanne Boyle ~ Heartfelt

Art ~ Steffi Krenzek

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"MY FATHER"

"MY FATHER"
(author unknown)

While standing in my bedroom doing my makeup, I overheard my parents in the bathroom across the hall. My father was groaning in severe pain, and thankfully, my mother was there to support him. At that time, I was in my twenties, caught up in my own world—juggling relationships with two men like a bouncing ball. But something about that moment between my parents hit me deeply.

My father groaned, and my mother gently reassured him, “It’s okay, Chris. I’m here.”

That was the beginning of my father’s painful side effects from prostate cancer, something that would only worsen with time. As I leaned toward the mirror to apply mascara, I heard more sounds of distress from my father. I froze, feeling trapped in their moment with nowhere to go. I heard a metallic clank in the bathroom—a mess had been made beyond my father’s control. My mother, without hesitation, would clean it up. “I’m so sorry,” my dad said.

“It’s okay, Chris. I’m here,” my mother replied once again.

After finishing my makeup, I sat on my bed with the door slightly ajar. Though I was worried about my father’s health, tears fell onto my jeans as I came to a profound realization—THIS is marriage.

Marriage isn’t found in lavish weddings, romantic dates, or cosy nights watching Netflix. It’s found in the darkest moments, when one partner supports the other through situations too difficult and vulnerable to share with anyone else.

As children, we grow up watching movies and reading stories about happy endings, perfect beginnings, and light-hearted moments in between. But real love—true romance—reveals itself when two people lean on each other, are completely vulnerable, and depend on each other through life’s hardest times.

Sitting on my bed, I made a decision. I no longer wanted to bounce from one relationship to another. I wanted my future to reflect what I had just witnessed: my parents' marriage—imperfect yet deeply beautiful. My own marriage, like theirs, has had its ups and downs, but the love I saw that day reminds me that marriage is forged in life’s toughest, most intimate spaces—even in the bathroom.

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"STELLA AND THE PILOT"

"STELLA AND THE PILOT"
(author unknown)

Stella had just settled into her business class seat when a man nearby caused a scene. “I don’t want to sit next to that... woman!” Franklin Delaney nearly shouted at the flight attendant, gesturing towards Stella, an older woman who had just taken the seat beside him.

“Sir, this is her assigned seat, and we cannot change that,” the stewardess replied, maintaining her composure as Franklin stared disapprovingly at Stella’s modest clothing.

“These seats are too expensive,” he said loudly, eyeing Stella. “She couldn’t possibly afford one!”

Though embarrassed, Stella remained quiet. She wore her best outfit, though simple, and it was all she could afford. Other passengers began watching, and some even seemed to agree with Franklin. The situation was becoming unbearable for Stella, so she finally spoke up.

“It’s alright,” she said gently, resting her hand on the stewardess’s arm. “If there’s a seat in economy, I’ll move. I saved everything for this ticket, but I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

At 85, Stella had never travelled before, and the airport experience at Seattle-Tacoma had been overwhelming. The airline had kindly assigned someone to guide her through the airport, and now she was finally on her way to New York.

Despite the tension, the stewardess was firm. “No, ma’am, you paid for this seat, and you deserve to stay here, no matter what anyone says,” she assured Stella. Turning to Franklin, she warned him that she would call airport security if he continued. Reluctantly, Franklin backed down, and Stella remained in her seat.

As the plane took off, Stella, overwhelmed by the experience, accidentally dropped her purse. To her surprise, Franklin bent down and helped her collect her belongings. As he handed her items back, he noticed a ruby locket and whistled softly.

“This is beautiful,” Franklin commented. “I’m an antique jeweller, and these rubies are genuine. This locket must be worth a lot.”

Stella smiled softly. “I wouldn’t know. My father gave it to my mother before he went off to war. She passed it to me after he never came home.”

Curious, Franklin introduced himself. “I’m Franklin Delaney, and I’m sorry for how I acted earlier. I’ve been going through some things and took it out on you. May I ask what happened to your father?”

Stella sighed. “He was a fighter pilot during World War II. He gave my mother this locket as a promise he would come back, but he never did. I was only four when he disappeared. My mother was never the same. She kept the locket as a reminder, and when I turned ten, she passed it to me. She never thought of selling it, even when times were tough. It’s priceless because of the memories it holds.”

She opened the locket, revealing two small photographs—one of her parents and the other of a baby. “These are my parents,” she said, her voice filled with emotion. “And this,” pointing to the baby’s photo, “is my son.”

“You’re going to see him?” Franklin asked.

“No,” Stella replied quietly. “I gave him up for adoption when he was a baby. I was alone and couldn’t provide for him the way he deserved. I’ve tried to reconnect recently and found him through a DNA test, but he told me he didn’t need me in his life. Today is his birthday, and I just wanted to be near him, even if I can’t be by his side.”

Franklin looked puzzled. “But if he doesn’t want to see you, why are you on this flight?”

Stella smiled softly. “He’s the pilot. It’s the only way I can be close to him on his birthday.”

Franklin was speechless. A few flight attendants and passengers who overheard the conversation were deeply moved. A stewardess slipped into the cockpit, and moments later, the pilot’s voice came over the intercom.

“In addition to our expected arrival at JFK, I’d like to give a special shout out to my birth mother, who is flying with us for the first time. Mom, please wait for me when we land.”

Stella’s eyes filled with tears as Franklin, ashamed of his earlier behaviour, smiled at her. When the plane landed, the pilot broke protocol and rushed out of the cockpit to embrace Stella in a long-awaited hug. Passengers and crew cheered as mother and son reunited.

As they hugged, her son, John, whispered, “Thank you for doing what was best for me all those years ago.” Overcome with emotion, Stella assured him that there was nothing to forgive and that she understood his silence.

From a distance, Franklin watched the reunion, grateful to have witnessed such a bittersweet moment and deeply regretful of his initial judgment. This was more than just a flight—it marked the beginning of something beautiful between Stella and her son.

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More articles by Su DeNyme (our resident writer) & John A Elliott are available here:
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