Where The Happy Is

It’s the bits the stories don’t tell you: that’s where the Happy is.

So: the day Rapunzel went to the hairdressers and asked for a trim, and walked out realising for the first time what it was not to trip over your own hair; that was a good day.

And when she stood outside, feeling the lightness at the nape of her neck and the Spring sunlight on her tower-pale skin, and thinking she might not take a carriage home but might walk back for the hell of it.

And when she got back and her hair smelled of hay and she sought out her Prince and they gazed into each other’s eyes and hugged so that they almost felt like one person and he said: go and put your posh frock on, Baby, and get the Ladies In Waiting to paint your nails: we’re going to the ball tonight.

Happy was feeling the swish of that frock which accommodated those imperceptible extra curves and not only that but celebrated them, because Hell, 26 years is a very long time to be stuck up a tower with one embittered insane old woman for company and at last a girl can eat, can’t she?

And the best bit of Happy in that whole Happy day was afterwards, when everyone went home, and there was just her and the Prince and it was bedtime. And being a princess meant a kick-ass huge four-poster Bed With Acreage, and servants to bring you Supper and Β later, after a night of exploring uncharted and delightful territory with a man who knew how to treat a women and a woman who knew how to treat a man, Breakfast in Bed.

They don’t tell you that stuff in the fairytales.

They don’t tell you about the other bits either: about when Rapunzel or her Prince were poorly or ill, or just plain grumpy, and sniping could be heard in the royal chambers: but nor do they tell you that the servants knew that when they heard discord ,they would run a sweepstake as to how long it would be before the pair came away beaming.

It was never long.

A year ago I was side-saddle on a hurricane, riding one of those situations most of us just pray will pass us by: my husband left, and I became a single parent. I hung onto my children in a bid to keep them steady.

Writing became an add-on to a life which was veering crazily all over the shop, and I just held on for grim life.

And then, against all the odds, I met the love of my life.

And the Upside Down Life did not right immediately,a s you may well imagine: it became a veritable Dorothy’s House in the most almighty twister you can conceive of, but inside the house my eyes widened and my heart sang, there travelling in crazy circles high above Everyday Folks.

The Celt – who is skilled in matters of the heart and spirit, and has a fleet mind and – this on the side – a compelling physical presence, was there with me in the House. Strange as it may seem he knew how to handle twisters, and deftly linkedΒ Β the house with the ground, tethering it with a rope; and he knew the currents of this giant air tunnel and rode them, really quite beautifully.

About two weeks ago, with the Celt’s help, the house set itself down.

I came out and have been gazing about in Dorothy-like wonder. And now I am past even that, and am in the Rapunzel stage. As I write, my Celt sits at his PC, researching like a Mad Researching Thing, and I for the first time since I can remember, am writing fit to burst, the words tumbling out like a stream which knows it has a bedrock.

Every story, from Grim to Grisham, has the mundane little moments: the bits they don’t tell you. The bits where the Happy lives.

And this is one of mine.



42 thoughts on “Where The Happy Is

  1. I rode a similar hurricane, and when you pick up the pieces afterwards some of them don’t fit together in the same way they did. But sometimes the new patchwork is better than your former self. Well done and good luck.

  2. Oh yes, you made the tears course down my cheeks to land in a puddle on my lap – where now it looks like I peed my pants. Thanks for that! πŸ™‚ Truly, thanks for that. πŸ™‚ May you realize how blessed you are every single moment – that’s one of the things that I love about your writing – it comes through, your gratitude, your love of all.

  3. Wow – that was quite a rollercoaster ride! No wonder you have been in slightly short supply lately. And when one rollercoaster-type-thingy breaks down and leaves you upside-down for a while, like the one in the news, it should discourage one from trying another. Not you, though, and it seems this ride is shaping to be the best ever and is made of the typical happily-ever-after stuff..

    1. Michael, you have hit a raw nerve. He is a PC man to the core. However we seem to be muddling through, and he periodically uses.the huge Mac in my recording studio when they is really, truly no alternative πŸ˜€

    1. Thank you Solveig. It has been the most changeable and interesting year of my life, filled with extremes. I think what I am celebrating now is the fact that the extremes are settling, and I am able once more to write again.

  4. Awesome sauce! Yes, the fairy tales leave out that we can only live happily ever after . . . on a moment by moment basis!

    May you do just that!

    1. You are very kind, Cameron πŸ™‚ huge and happy hearts are wonderful things. And I realise that sometimes one must go through turmoil in order to become the person on the other side. Hope all is well with you all xx

  5. Gosh, Kate – what a helluva fairytale this is! There’s always the dark side to them, isn’t there? I’m heartened to see that you’ve made it through, strong and optimistic.

    1. Rapunzel, but I know what it is like to live with a bitter person. Glad to hear you are moving on. It is strange, exciting, scary, fun, odd, and refreshing (add to the list of opposing emotions) to be with someone who wants to be part of your life after the previous spouse left. Even though I decided to propose to my new love, we are both taking it slow (she is a widow).

  6. My hubby uses a PC as well. It’s a software developer thing. I think it’s in the secret developer oath. “Thou shalt spit upon Microsoft, build a machine that operates on Linux and travel with a large, ugly PC.” And and they must write mysterious codes. Of course, the Celt might not be a developer…. LOL Is it possible PC is code for Prince? Snicker. Love the fairy tale, especially the riding sidesaddle in the hurricane. I hope your kids are okay. With you as their mum, they will keep their balance, no doubt. XOXO

  7. Oh, how full my heart is at hearing (reading) this wonderful news! Kate, much happiness to you and your Celt! (And loved your sequel to Rapunzel, one of my favorite fairy tales!)

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