The Choice Not Taken Read Online Free PDF

could ever know it , I sobbed.
     
    There was no one with whom to share the news–or pain. I had no shoulder to cry upon, and if I seemed out of sorts, it would be virtually impossible to explain its cause.
     
    Unsure what to do, I turned out the light and laid in the dark until I eventually cried myself into an unforgiving sleep.
     

shattered
     
    Jen was overly particular when it came to her yard sales, and this one became no exception. Her light rap on my door at 7:00AM wasn’t a suggestion but rather a demand to get moving.
     
    Once again sluggish, I didn’t have the luxury of working slowly through the hurt like the morning before. But pulling myself out of bed was mercifully easier today, and for a singular moment I felt normal. One look at that blasted laptop, however, forced me to remember.
     
    Hearing breakfast dishes and smelling brewed coffee lent me little time to dwell. I quickly donned a jogging suit, except mine definitely hadn’t been plucked from the clearance rack. And I couldn’t do anything more than bring my hair back in a loose knot and brush my teeth before I heard Joe call the kids to get packed up and catch the bus. By the time I entered the kitchen, it was already seven-thirty.
     
    “Morning, Court. Did you sleep okay?” Jen looked me over with obvious concern.
     
    I clumsily sat in one of the mismatched chairs around the farm table, and she kindly placed coffee and a whole wheat bagel with peanut butter in front of me.
     
    “I guess not,” I muttered between steaming sips. “Thanks for getting this for me,” I gestured to the food upon my plate.
     
    “No problem! Joe is actually trying to eat more whole grains so I figure he can finish any you don’t eat. They won’t go to waste,” Jen added, now inspecting me up close. “Are you okay?”
     
    Of course she knew my history and the subsequent battle with OCD. But she didn’t know everything about my past, and though I desperately wanted to divulge my secret to someone, I couldn’t bring myself to confide in her.
     
    “I’m fine, Jen. Really. Just need another cup of java to kick-start the day,” I grinned with false enthusiasm.
     
    “Oh, geez!” she exclaimed, jumping from her chair. “I almost forgot about the damn sale!” Her goofy expression made me giggle, and I embraced it as a harbinger of better things to come.
     
    With full cups in hand, we hustled to the garage and opened the overhead door to pull furniture, toys, and other large pieces onto the driveway. Joe already helped the boys onto the bus at its stop down the street and left to post signs before heading for work. By the time we had everything in place, there were five customers coming up the walk.
     
    Jen’s pre-fab ranch was situated near the entrance to one of the newer sub-divisions in our hometown. Its location granted easy access from three main roads, which were well-traveled, guaranteeing a busy morning at least. And when Jen’s neighbor across the street told her of five more sales running in their neighborhood, I thought she’d do a cartwheel on the front lawn.
     
    As a steady flow of shoppers bargained, browsed, and walked away with new-found treasures, morning quickly pushed into noon hour. And once we finally found a lull in the foot-traffic, Joe arrived from his work break with my parents in the cab of his truck and greasy bags of drive-thru sandwiches gripped in his beefy hands.
     
    “How’s the sale goin’?” Dad hollered before patiently helping Mom from the truck. Looking over the merchandise along the way, they casually wove a path up the drive.
     
    “Good!” Jen happily replied. “We’ve already made over three-hundred and fifty dollars!”
     
    “Well, I made fifty, and you made the rest,” I corrected and went to greet my parents. Although we spoke on the phone often, I hadn’t actually seen them in months.
     
    “How are you, Dear?” Mom observed me with a keen eye, and I shifted my gaze to avoid her sharp