WeWriWa -August 2, 2015 - Missi Wanderin' in the Woods

Welcome back! Last week, we got a peek into soldier Charlie's softer side when he insisted they go back to the Italian pound and adopt the twin brother of the little dog we'd just given a home. 

Thoughts of our puppies fizzled as I glanced from my ring to his haggard face and rested my hands on my belly again. Charlie seemed to read my thoughts. “I am so, so sorry Sara, I love all of you, Lil’ Grub, too.”

Emotion threatened to choke me as I remembered the night we almost lost our baby. I was ten weeks along and we’d just made love. I went to the restroom to get ready for bed and discovered I was bleeding. Big black clots trailed by bright red blood covered the bottom of the tiny European toilet. I called for Charlie through a veil of tears. 

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WeWriWa - July 18, 2015 - Missi Wanderin' in the Woods - What's Next for Charlie and Sara?

Welcome back to the Weekend Writing Warriors bloghop and this week's eight to ten sentence snippet from a published, pre-published, or work-in-progress (or WIP). We are making our way through the first chapter of my forthcoming memoir, Missi Wanderin' in the Woods. 

Last week, Charlie confessed that he'd been tossed out of the Army shrink's office for being honest and telling the psychiatrist exactly what he was thinking . . . scroll down and check out the last couple of entries for that little gem . . . and what earned him an MP escort out of that office, along with an invitation NOT to return.  Let's see what happens next. 


He chuckled again as my grim expression transformed to a half-smile. Without meaning to, I let go a little laugh, followed by a bigger one. Before either one of us could make sense of the sudden onslaught of jocularity, it was there, just as real as either of us and filling the car with much needed comic relief. Tears streamed down our faces as we gasped for breath before becoming tickled all over again at our cacophony of funny whoopings and whistlings and snorts.

As our laughing jag faded away, Charlie started our car – a pink and purple Volkswagen Golf, Pink Floyd Edition – as the stark reality of our situation settled over me like a cloud of buzzards over a rotting carcass. Here I was in Italy, pregnant, so far from home, and with my two precious babies to protect. I had a husband, fresh from combat and already exhibiting irrational, self-medicating behavior, who had just managed to get himself blacklisted from the only psychiatrist within reasonable driving distance. Just. By. Being. Honest. 

Thank you for stopping by for this week's snippet of military madness. To get back to the other WeWriWa bloghop participants, follow this link. Thanks for stopping by and be sure to pop over to my Amish blog, Sara's Amish Dreams, for a cover reveal!