Brenda-Lee Ranta composed her first poem at the age of seven. Throughout her life, she used prose as a means of logging her experiences in a life which has been under ‘constant construction.’
Amazing to her, is that at the age of 58, CTU Publishing Group published her first book, “Myriad of Perceptions,” to be followed by “Allegories – a thirst for connection.” It was for her, a life changing experience, taking her from journal writing to giving her words a life beyond herself. Her two books also were awarded five-star reviews from Readers Favorite.
Brenda-Lee shares her journey with her soul mate, Hugh Dysart, also a published poet, lyricist and musician. They are parents to their collective five children and grandchildren. They live a life dedicated to each other, their kids, pets and their shared artforms.
Here is an excerpt from Brenda-Lee’s latest book A Soul Passenger
Father’s Day weekend was preceded by a very difficult time with for Brandi and Belinda; they were arguing constantly. Her nerves frayed, she decided to pack a few things and get a hotel room, to have some alone time and distance between them. She felt despair regarding the state of limbo she was living in. Suddenly everything about her life seemed to be unravelling. Deeply troubled by the fact that she and her daughter seemed to be at odds constantly. She never imagined that once she had left Belinda’s father that they would grow apart. She imagined their relationship would have been glorious, filled with laughter, free to be who they were. She and Drew often had shared concerns for their same aged youngest children, often confounded by the distance they were both feeling with the children they adored. They told each other everything, good, bad or indifferent, daily. He was her sounding board and she was his. On the bad days, they would give each other suggestions on how to deal with a given situation and extremely happy for each other, on the days that were deemed a success.
Every Father’s Day, it was Brandi’s custom to go to the cemetery, sitting quietly at her Dad’s plot. In a hotel room, feeling very lost and alone; she laid in the dark meditating, crying herself to sleep. She woke up very early Sunday morning with intention of going to visit the cemetery. She checked her phone for messages; Drew was online. She hadn’t been online the night before, exhausted depressed – a mess. He asked Brandi where she was. She told him she was at a hotel. He asked her which one, what room number and that he would pick up coffees and come to see her.
She was in a state of shock, questioning if he would actually show up. In her depressed state, she didn’t want or need another disappointment; really needing someone to talk to. However, a half hour later, there was a knock at her door. He was standing in the doorway, sheepishly smiling with coffees in hand. Brandi noted that he looked very tired, pale and run down, making their way to the small sofa. As they chatted; it once again felt as though no time had elapsed since they had last been together; time standing in infinity. Feeling him energetically; the familiar feeling enveloped her. The slow easy conversation, hand holding and affection, soothing words, led them to being intimate. It was a slow thoughtful tryst, ending with him laying his head upon Brandi’s stomach, murmuring to her, that “this feels like the safest place in the world.” She stroked his hair, holding back tears, holding it all in her heart.
They were silent, when finally, they got up and dressed; made no plans, saying nothing. They kissed each other goodbye, holding each other tightly and finally letting go. The door to the room closed; Brandi sat on the edge of the bed, tears streaming down her face. She felt so peaceful; a beautiful quiet peace. She placed her hand on her stomach, hearing his sweet words, “safest place in the world.” “Yes, my darling, it is,” she said out loud, to no one.
She got ready to attend the cemetery, checking out of her room. The drive was spent in quiet contemplation. She often spoke to her “Dad” when her heart was full, having nowhere to turn with her feelings. It was an overcast day, very warm with a light rain spray, covering her windshield. She parked at the cemetery, walked to her Dad’s plot, staring down at his head stone. She spoke out loud, with nobody else there, telling him, that she really loved this man, Drew, that she didn’t know understand where anything was heading, wishing he was here to talk to her, physically talk to her. She stood there, a light mist dampening her face, then reaching down, placed a kiss on her Dad’s headstone before returning back to her car; suddenly recalling that her mother had given her the stone to bury at his plot but had forgotten it at home. She secretly promised to return with it and bury it very soon. Brandi drove home teary eyed, ready to see her daughter.
Continued in book . . .
A Soul Passenger–Now Available
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