The Wee Hours of the Morning

In all those wee hours of the morning when we find ourselves lying awake, is that when the Angels talk to us? Guide us, maybe even answer questions? I’m saying, sure, why not? Because one particular morning, a really big show turned up in front of me. It was the ending of my first book!

You see, I had wondered for nearly thirty years how my story would end. I asked TheUniverse and ArchAngel Gabriel — she is the writer Angel, of course — so many jillions of times for help, and nothing ever happened. I finally had to learn to let go and appease myself with the knowing that the ending simply wasn’t ready to be revealed yet.

Then, on one of those miraculous mornings, in the middle of the night, I was given the privilege of watching a full mind-blowing movie! It was like wearing an Apple Vision Pro because it was gigantic in scale and completely in 3D, all while I was lying in bed! It was set at a masquerade party with a 1920s-theme…

The art deco display is glorious, with shiny black and white faux marble floors. Ornate carvings in the crown moldings frame polished walls that are intricately engrained with designs that make for a delight to behold. Beautifully accentuating the showplace are hundreds of potted palms and greenery throughout the expansive grand hall of the Drake Hotel in Chicago.

Blooming gardenias are intermixed everywhere. Different sized cylindrical vases and giant glass jars hold floating white peonies, hydrangeas and calla lilies in blue-tinted water. While tiny sparkling lights highlight the flowers within, the containers adorn the floors. Smaller versions are arranged as centerpieces on numerous round tables throughout the boundless ball room.

Set under a multitude of elaborate chandeliers, hundreds of candles and twinkling lights create a lovely, romantic ambience of cream and cobalt blue. The sculptured, rod-iron, balustrade of a staircase circles upward to the ceiling. The eye-catching center-point of the bar is decked out with flickering lights of blue that glisten across hundreds of liquor bottles and thousands of different types of glasses.

“Welcome to the roaring twenties!” Deirdre exclaims into the microphone. She is on stage, book-ended by her bodyguards, who are costumed as Keystone Cops. The excited crowd is transfixed by her so they encircle her platform and quiet their exuberance.

Her perfect auburn bob glimmers with golden highlights setting off her flapper-style, Great Gatsby headband that winks beneath the stage lights. Deirdre’s radiant wig is stuffed with her signature, full and voluminous head of bouncing curls. Crowning it is a lustrous antique, golden tiara with pearlized feathers that sparkle whichever way she sways.

As she continues to speak, she makes deliberate movements to emphasize the jiggling sequins and dangling pearl baubles dripping from her lemon-chiffon dress. “Thank you all for being here! And wasn’t that an incredible historic event we all witnessed?” She beams in accepting the applause and curtsies.

“With the drama and business taken care of, please know that this Charitable Trust of mine is a bona fide, on-the-level and close-to-my heart organization. We are celebrating how the hungry get fed and clothed, while educating young people in our fine city.

“So, don’t be pikers out there — give! For your gambling pleasures, we have rubes and clams that you can buy to give even more while you play! We also created little juice joints, or as we like to call them, ‘speakeasies’, for you to converse in a quieter fashion if you so desire.

“Now, it’s time for the Giggle Water and Champagne! And as our Dear Friend Michael would always call out — ICE CREAM!!! So please, everyone, enjoy! By the way, there’s plenty of great food, too! You all are the cat’s meow out there with your glad rags, so get those marbles waggling and show off your Oliver Twist moves! Let’s get this party started!”

With that, the hall explodes into a boisterous uproar. Deirdre grins and plays it up as the ‘cops’ escort her off the stage toward her awaiting Paddy, he takes her arm. The guests love the theatrics and laugh, then the mingling begins as some people line up for food and drink. Others start to dance to the music. The band in keeping with the theme, strike up with songs of the era. Dancers shimmy, showing off their costumes that dazzle, their long pearl necklaces fly as they do the Charleston.

There was more. Much more! But this gives you an idea of how elaborate the tableaux was. I began this story thirty years ago. It turned into a book with no ending. I always thought I’d find the ending to finish it when my true-love man came into my life. He did. But still, no ending.

I worked the book many times, editing, proofing, figuring this would surely, somehow, create the darned conclusion. But no. Nothing. So I put it away. Numerous times, I’d bring it out again and again. Still, to no avail.

Until one sleepless night, in the wee hours of the morning, a production presented itself on a huge movie screen right in front of me. The characters were roaring, dressed in their twenties costumes. Deirdre — alive and vibrant — was right there! I was absorbed in the whole realm.

After the performance, I didn’t get up to write it down. I didn’t wake my man sleeping beside me. I simply laid there, quietly pumping my fists, thrilled beyond ecstatic-ness. Thirty years in the making and finally the ending had been shown to me. It was a wonderful gift of answered prayer from The Universe! I then asked ArchAngel Gabriel to keep the words in her copper sphere for me for when it was more convenient to write it all down.

She did and it took some time to make it happen, but then came the editing. And what a nightmare, that was! The editor I hired quit after ten chapters. The next one did a horrible job. According to her, she supposedly completed it in less than a day. To be frank, the whole experience was awful.

I tried to do it myself. Yet, as you may know, editing/proofing your own work isn’t really easy for an author. Still, I persevered. Over and over, I proofed it many times. And somehow, it still wasn’t the best of writing. Eventually, even though I knew it wasn’t perfect, I published it anyway.

It’s title is here & there.

And perhaps that is part of the story, too. After all those years of waiting, wondering, asking, and finally receiving the ending, the book made its way into the world imperfectly — but it made it.

Maybe sometimes the miracle isn’t that everything turns out exactly as we imagined.

Maybe the miracle is simply that we finally get to see the story through!

Thank you for taking the time to read my story.