The Green Scrunchy

By storiestotale

Bringing to the surface some deeply rooted, troubling and disturbing facts about her life that were cleverly concealed until the object The Green Scrunchy forced the main character to look hard and deep and enter a world which was completely unusual to her.

 

From a new perspective, the author struggles to adapt, giving her a fresh start at life while understanding how fleeting and fragile it is. The book discusses some themes common amongst very large families. It delves into the recovery of an often-sad writer whose relationship with her deceased parents namely her mother who was taken away suddenly remarkably takes on a very different meaning.

• Language: English
• Publisher: storiestotale
• Release date: Dec 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9780983774327

storiestotale

Eve an entrepeneur owning several businesses and endeavours. She is a mother of two and a happily married wife to the same person for over 25 years. She loves movies and music and is currently the Executive Director of a New Film Festival in New Jersey. She has authored 3 books while being the Literary Publisher of 7 other authors. Her Literary Company is Stories To Tale. Eve calls herself lucky in life by the very fact she get's to wake up each day to a new fresh start as life moves too quickly. She loves to travel but doesn't get much of a chance. She loves to garden and volunteers for animal causes loving animals. She and her family are Vegans. 

Book preview

Dedication

Idedicate this book to my family and friends who know that things are not just coincidences and that things usually happen for a reason.  All things must pass through the journey of life. You are my family whether we choose each other or not. Together we share so much more than just our parents. 

Lyrics by George Harrison during his spiritual journey 

ALL THINGS MUST PASS

Written By: George Harrison

Publisher: Harrisonsongs

Released on Apple Records, 1970

Sunrise doesn’t last all morning,

A cloudburst doesn’t last all day

Seems my love is up and has left you with no warning

It’s not always going to be this grey.

All things must pass

All things must pass away

Sunset doesn’t last all evening

A mind can blow those clouds away

After all this, my love is up and must be leaving

It’s not always going to be this grey

All things must pass

All things must pass away.

Acknowledgment

For all the people that this may touch namely my siblings who were there on the day our mother passed, I wish to acknowledge you all. 

For Danny the big brother, you were to lead by example yet fell short. But for your pain, I know not and wish you peace and happy memories.

For Joe in your drugged stupor, you were silent while you leaned against the hospital wall and I watched you fall low in your way still. How our mother prayed and wanted you to make something of yourself, to regain your full health and perhaps reunite with your only daughter. To stand up strong again.

For Marcelle, as you fainted, the pain was too deep for your fragile soul if it wasn’t enough, you bore the heavy burden of emptying the contents of Mom’s apartment and tried to carry your weight in a confusing family dynamic.

For Ralph, you were also deeply saddened and made the long journey to be by her side. The loss is shared by all.

For Louna you sat stoic on the couch that day as a symbol of strength and fell apart alone in the dark of your mind later. For your bodily fate keeps your memories in the caverns of your thoughts.

For Alain you were doing what our father would have expected of you, you stayed to handle the arrangements despite your tearing spirit and would carry on always running away from yourself.

For Brigitte, you had faded in disbelief and your anguish would leave you unsettled for years.

For Sylvia, you couldn’t be there and suffer immense torment which will haunt you forever.

For Ronnie the baby, you like Alain your brother stepped up to our father's expectations while you bore your deep torture.

And for me, the author of this book, I take with me the solace that while I twisted and turned over every moment of that day asking myself over and over if I should take my own life to be with my mother, I offer my compassion, my sympathy and childhood memories to share with you as I remember my mother's words SHALOM.

This is all she ever wanted, Daddy too. While we each went on to discover the world and interpret life through our own eyes, we are a strength and force to be reckoned with. A tribe, a village. SHALOM SHALOM.

With a spark, there is a flame, and a huge fire can ensue quickly. Let us be the beacon of SHALOM that our parents wanted from us if nothing else... LOVING EACH OTHER AS IF IT WERE OUR LAST DAYS TOGETHER. PATIENCE AND ACCEPTANCE. TOLERANCE of each other's idiosyncrasies and imperfections. SHALOM

LOVE THE GREEN SCRUNCHY.

Contents

Dedication iii

Acknowledgment iv 

Preface vii

Chapter 1: Cleaning 1

Chapter 2: Connection 20

Chapter 3: The Outburst 33

Chapter 4: Heart-breaking Accusations 45

Chapter 5: Disoriented Family 58

Chapter 6: Change 85

Chapter 7: A New Start 94

Chapter 8: Making Up for the Lost Years 102

Chapter 9: Forgetting and Moving On 122

Chapter 10: Memories 132

Chapter 11: The Journey 144

Chapter 12: A Sweet Experience 149

Chapter 13: New Beginnings 154

Chapter 14: Sharing the Love 159

Chapter 15: Reunion 164

About the Author 169

Preface

The Green Scrunchy takes the reader on a journey with the author who uncovers the many days of darkness and light – both, experienced regularly by the author.

This book discusses in story form how an object The Green Scrunchy a silk hair tie, coincidentally makes its way back into the life of the original owner bringing to the surface some deeply rooted and disturbing facts about her life that were cleverly concealed until the object forced her to look hard and deep. 

From a new perspective, she struggles to adapt giving her a fresh start in life while understanding how fleeting and fragile it is. It discusses some themes common amongst large families. It delves into the recovery of an often-sad writer whose relationship with her deceased parents namely her mother who was taken away suddenly, remarkably takes on a very different meaning

Chapter 1: Cleaning

In the silent embrace of the room, Evelyne stood before the mirror, a threshold between the tangible and the intangible. Her reflection stared back at her, a mere surface echoing the intricate tapestry of her existence. With her gaze locked on her reflection, the mirror seemed to possess a certain magnetism, drawing her in with its reflective allure. Her features, a mirror image of her mother's, held an uncanny resemblance that had often been remarked by other people. An ineffable connection emerged – a reminder of the enigmatic dance of genetics and time.

In that moment, Evelyne felt a curious sense of connection, as if the mirror held the key to a puzzle, she had never truly unraveled. The shape of her eyes, the curve of her lips, and the arch of her eyebrows were all echoes of her mother's visage. It was as if her mother's spirit had left an indelible mark embedded into the very fabric of her being.

The mirror became a canvas upon which the threads of lineage were woven, a portrait of both the past and the present. In her features, Evelyne witnessed the echo of generations, a symphony of traits passed down through the ages. The resemblance was more than skin deep; it was an intricate drapery of identity, transcending mere physicality.

Yet, as Evelyne gazed deeper, the mirror's veneer faded, revealing the profound depths of her emotions. Melancholy, a shadow of the past, encircled her heart like a shroud. The tears that threatened to spill reflected not only sorrow but the very essence of the human experience – pain, memories, aspirations, and regrets.

Evelyne's gaze shifted from the mirror to the dresser, and at that moment, the room became a nexus of remembrance and existence.

The dresser stood against the wall. The once vibrant wood had faded to a soft, muted hue, and the ornate carvings that adorned its surface had dulled with age. Evelyne's fingers traced the edges of the dresser's drawers, feeling the roughness of the worn wood beneath her touch.

A collection of items lay nestled atop the dresser – a delicate perfume bottle with a faded label, a vintage hairbrush with bristles that had lost their stiffness, and a photograph that had started to yellow around the edges.

Evelyne picked up the photograph, studying the image of her mother captured in a moment of laughter. The corners of the photo were frayed, evidence of the countless times it had been picked up and put back. She could almost hear her mother's voice echoing from the past as if the dresser held onto the memories and released them in whispers.

The dresser's slightly uneven legs stood solidly on the floor, despite the years that had passed. As Evelyne stood before it, the dresser became a bridge between her and her mother, a tangible link to a time that was gone but not forgotten.

A sudden wave of memories crashed over her, transporting her back to the last moments she had shared with her mother. The room around her seemed to dissolve as she relived that poignant scene.

The air had been heavy with the scent of antiseptics, a sterile reminder of the hospital environment. Tubes and monitors surrounded her mother's bed, their electronic hum a constant backdrop to the machine-forced breathing that emanated from her weakened form. Evelyne sat by her side, holding her mother's frail hand in her own, her heart aching with love and despair.

Her mother's eyes, once vibrant and full of life, were now shut and dulled by the weight of illness. Yet, even in that moment, they held a certain and familiar warmth, a spark that hadn't been extinguished by the ravages of disease. Evelyne could feel her mother's fingers weakly squeeze her hand, a silent reassurance that transcended words.

I've always said you're the spitting image of me, her mother had whispered some years back, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. The effort it took for her to speak at the time was evident, but her determination to communicate was unwavering.

Evelyne had managed a small smile; her voice tinged with both sadness and affection. "I've heard that so many times, Mom, she remembered responding.

Her mother's gaze had intensified as if she were trying to capture every detail of Evelyne's face in that moment. "You know, I used to look just like you when I was your age.

Really? I can't even imagine it, Evelyne mumbled.

Her mother's eyes had crinkled in the corners, a hint of amusement lighting up their depths. Oh, you better believe it. Life can change us, but certain things remain constant.

Tears had welled in Evelyne's eyes as she gripped her mother's hand more tightly, the weight of impending loss settling heavily upon her heart. I wish I could've known you back then, Mom.

Her mother had squeezed Evelyne's hand again, her touch a gentle anchor in a sea of emotions. You carry a piece of me with you, Evelyne. Remember that. And remember that life is a journey – full of surprises, challenges, and love. Keep moving forward, my dear.

Now, standing before the mirror, Evelyne's mind brought her back to that moment – the last conversation, the last exchange of words that had carried so much weight and meaning. The memory was etched into her heart, a legacy that would forever shape her journey.

Evelyne's attention shifted back to the dresser, and a fond smile played at the corners of her lips.

Her mother's words echoed in her mind – He practically stole this dresser from me, you know.

Evelyne's father, with a twinkle in his eye, had gifted her the dresser despite her mother's gentle protests.

Having just returned from her mother's Shiva ceremony, all these thoughts came back to her in rushing waves. With gentle purpose, she began to clean it, her movements slow and deliberate.

Each swipe of the cloth mimicked a tender caress as the dust that accumulated over time seemed to carry with its remnants of the past, a reminder of the shared moments that were now etched into