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
It was his fifth week of sobriety. Brandi felt very confident that Drew was getting things under control. She thanked Source/God, for every day he went without a drink. Also, giving thanks for the strength to able to handle the situation as it was and as it wasn’t. Every day she queried, “So, how is sobriety?” Replies were generally about the ways in which he avoided cravings and urges, by walking frequently, to keep it under control.
His birthday came and Brandi had thought long and hard about the most practical gift to give him; one that didn’t spell romanticism, yet showed him she cared. She purchased him an MP3 player to use on his walks; feeling that he would find them much more enjoyable if he could listen to his favorite music. Swallowing her pride, breaking her own self-imposed rule, she drove to his house and knocked on the door. Answering his door, shirtless, eyes bloodshot; the shock in his face to see her standing there, told her everything. He was drinking, in fact he was drunk.
Dumbfounded, so heartbroken, she hissed at him, shoving the gift bag into his hands. Her voice broke as she gave him a sarcastic, “Happy Birthday.” His eyes filled, a tear rolled down his cheek. Almost running back to her car, she laid her forehead against the steering wheel, gulping back tears, unable to get her breath. Turning the key in the ignition, bleary eyed, she drove home through blurred vision, sobbing out loud, moaning wails.
Rocking herself to sleep, knees tucked into her stomach, her pillow was soaked from tears. She was angry with God for keeping her bound to him. She wasn’t angry with Drew, she was soulfully disappointed. He had a serious addiction. Her emotions were a mixture of empathy, sympathy, love and disillusionment that he didn’t reach out to her when he was losing the battle. Save for Source/God, Brandi knew with certainty that anyone else would have deemed her a naïve fool. When he messaged her the next day, her first inclination was to admonish him; then a calmness overcame her. Being understanding a calmness overcame her. “It was a slip Drew, get back on the horse and keep riding.” Murmuring agreement, not totally convincing, he went off line.
It was apparent, he would never do this alone.
Continued in book . . .
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