THE LINEN CUPBOARD - Free this Sunday, Sept. 10, 2023, in the Kindle Store

 It is moving day; a most difficult time. Not only is she saying good-bye to the house but also to her mother. She feels okay though, keeping herself together, until she reaches the linen cupboard..

This Sunday, September 10, 2023, The Linen Cupboard, a short story, is FREE for your reading pleasure in the kindle store.

Top review from Canada

Amazon Customer

5.0 out of 5 stars Memories

Reviewed in Canada on November 23, 2015

Verified Purchase

This story brought back many loving memories of my Grandmother and her house. I can even remember the linen closet.

https://www.amazon.ca/LINEN.../dp/B0182ON15Q/ref=sr_1_1...

Being Old

 I'm blessed to enjoy the companionship, love, and time shared with friends and family today.  

Although I've grown used to it, I am sometimes left to wonder why no one I know is older than me.  How on earth did this happen?

I have amazing happy memories of dear friends and family members who are no longer sharing the adventure of life on this planet.  I believe they are not far, and I hold them close to me in my memory, in my thoughts, and in my heart.

I also have very happy memories of time spent with other dear friends and family who, of necessity, have left my small town and are now living in other, usually larger, centres to be near to their children or other family members.

I miss these good people.

I miss the wonderful friendships and the gift of their support of my writing adventures.   I miss the laughter, the closeness, the wonderful sharing within these strong friendships.  

There are still a very few of these dear, old friends who remain in touch through the internet.  I'm thinking of the lovely Shirley and the clever Lucy who loved to play with my long hair when she sat behind me in church.   I treasure my time spent with the very spiritual, caring Marleen.  And I'm thinking of the talented Goldie who worked so hard beside me as we prepared what has, so far, been the only Writers'  Festival in Elliot Lake.

But the sad reality is that the majority of my dear old friends are alive only in my fond memories.  

This is something that is not always easy to deal with as I continue to be old.   It is not always the easiest thing in the world to make new close friendships late in life.  It is not always a good feeling to know that no one is older than me.

How blessed I am that the wonderful younger people in my life share their time and include me in their activities.    How blessed I am that I am given the opportunity to enjoy my retirement; to stay busy and useful with my work; to enjoy my passions of painting and writing.  How blessed I am that my closest family members live nearby and are counted as my best friends.

Being old is a gift.   It has its own challenges and its own rewards.  

Since this blog is about my writing adventures, I guess it won't hurt to mention that I have not done a lot of creative writing about age and aging however I have done a little.  

The characters in  When God Gives Us Spring share their later years with a reader.   Sara is left alone after the too early death of her husband.  Ellen shares her memoirs from childhood to old age when she, sadly, endures Alzheimer Disease.  She even shares her personal death, ascension experience.

So the topic of being old has not been totally ignored in my creative writing.  Nor has it been ignored in my painting.  I am not a portrait painter.  I'm a wanna be portrait painter.   But I do attempt to paint people and some of them are far from young.

There is beauty in aging and I make my own attempt to not only paint it, but to live it.

Thanks for listening.  And thanks for buying a book or a painting from this old lady.  xoxox  https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin

Below are some of my paintings of others who, if not already there, are on their way to 'being old'.  :-)

Moose Road - a Canadian Tragedy

 Excerpt from: 

 Road, a Canadian Tragedy by Audrey Austin

Chapter One: SEVEN DWELL NEAR

 “Tell me a story, tell me a story, tell me a story and remember what you said.” Ever since that terrible day of the tragic accident each of the residents who live by my side has a tale to tell. Yes, everyone has a story and each story teller speaks his own truth. What I do find curious is the fact that no two stories are alike. Each is unique in its own way. I am of the opinion that truth is multi-sided and speaks from many hearts.

 A very long time ago I heard someone repeat the words of Winston Churchill who is purported to have said, “The truth is incontrovertible. Malice may attack it, ignorance may deride it, but in the end, there it is.” Yes, indeed, there it is. Truth is multi-sided and it dares to speak from many hearts. I have been around for a very long time. I existed in this very location even before man decided to give me a name. I guess that makes me old and, that being the case, I confess I am very old. I was here before any person chose this place to build a home. 

 I have always thought I possessed a firm grasp on reality but since the day of the tragedy I am questioning for the first time the meaning and the impact of truth. I have more questions than answers. Is it possible that truth is, indeed, no more than one’s personal perception? Each individual’s truth, until shared, is locked in a sacred space in one’s memory. Memory does have its share of weakness. It can be faulty. As weeks turn into months memory is often tested.

 “Tell me a story and remember what you said. ”I find it very interesting that the residents of the seven farms impacted by the tragedy each retain a different personal memory of the accident and its aftermath. Although I am well aware that it would not occur to any ordinary human that an old long-travelled country road could possibly have the capacity to remember, I can assure you that I do. Yes, indeed, I do have a memory. Even though I am very old it remains a good one. I do remember well. 

Some thoughts give me reason to smile while other memories I would prefer to forget. I have learned that the more painful memories are the most stubborn; the least likely to be forgotten and the most likely to be remembered. Even when a human believes he has managed to bury a painful memory he has not. That remembrance will pop up like a jack-in-the-box. It will present itself at the most odd and unexpected of times and sometimes even in the form of a recurrent dream. 

Of course, I am not a human. I can assure you that I am a no nonsense road; plain, practical and from my very first appearance on earth many generations ago I have made it my focused mission to do my duty and fulfill my purpose as I see fit. I have always taken great pride in my existence and to this very day I do my best to serve those who choose to travel upon my surface. Unlike humans who are, I have learned, sometimes very superficial creatures, I am not shallow. I don’t blame the travelers for being unable to see beneath my surface. But I assure you I am not just the visible thin layer of gravel you might observe at first glance. I do have substance. 

Yes, I am old now. I have been here in this spot in northern Ontario, Canada for many interesting and enduring lifetimes. Although I am a road less travelled I am still in pretty good shape. I expect I’ll be here for a few more generations. I can see no good reason why I should not continue to be here. I have never existed anywhere else on this earth and this is my home.

• Best Sellers Rank: 
  • #51 in Canadian Drama
  • #62 in Canadian Dramas
  • #166 in Canadian Dramas & Plays

Moose Road, a Canadian Tragedy is available in Kindle, Paperback, and Audiobook formats.

Visit my author's page at https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin