Journeys

My name is Karen and I'm an Outlander addict.  I've seen every episode. Now that we are in the "Droughtlander" awaiting the next season, I've been listening to the books on Audible. I just can't seem to get enough! And I'm not alone.  Millions of fans all over the world await, hanging on the edge of their sofas, to see what happens next with Jamie and Claire.   It's not just the series.  The fascination is not limited to the storyline or books.  If you follow the cast members on Instagram or Twitter, you will be amazed at their fan base.  In fact, I have never seen a cast be more engaged with their fans than the Outlander community.  We are endeared to all the characters.  Even Black Jack Randall...oh, how we love to hate him!  I've seen each cast member give such poignant deliveries of the story...award winning performances, no doubt.  Casting has made all the difference.  Yes, there are a couple of characters whom I believe could've been

She was quite certain he did not exist; the man she had created him to be in her mind.  In reality, he was merely someone in whom to confide.  He was her safe confidant--someone to tell the things she would never disclose to anyone else.  He listened without judgment. He understood. He kept a safe distance. It was easier that way.  She often wondered.  What if they were to run into in one another? What if they were face to face? Would all their furtive conversations flash between their eyes? How could it go unnoticed?  Surely, if given the opportunity to actually be in each other's company, they would be much different characters than they had both conjured. He could very well be disappointed in her.  She might, however unlikely, be disappointed in him.  Or not.  That was her greatest fear; for him to be exactly as she imagined.  He had become kindred--and desired.  One thing she knew beyond any doubt: life would be so much easier lived with an unromantic heart and the tempting

The nights you come to me are most desired. You slip in through the foggy haze of slumber. I cannot see your face. I do not even try.  That is unimportant--unnecessary.  Somehow, I feel who you are without knowing your identity.  Warm, unsettling comfort. It is as if I have known you forever, yet know you not. You are a nostalgic melody I hear playing in the distance. I feel the anticipation of things to come; a welcome relief to my unfulfillment.  And when you are here, you wrap yourself around me. You are home to me. Your presence brings forth the contentment I am unable to find in my waking hours.  There is a perception of something I have missed. Did I lose you or have we yet to meet?  My soul clumsily searches for you in the darkness of my conscious hours. Every day. Yet while dreaming, I feel you. It is much more than a kiss. Your familiar lips; they touch and melt into mine. I yield every part of myself to you without reservation; not just in body, but in the unseen chara

The first cold front had blown in overnight. She stepped into the crisp morning air. The frosty chill spread across her face with its familiar, pleasurable sting. She inhaled deeply through her nostrils, noticing how the cold had somehow purified the air. The blades of grass were still green under the blanket of thin ice. The grass had emerged late this year. After the September rains, the Indian summer had set in. The gardens and yards were more lush than they had been during the dry, glaring heat of the summer. It had been a beautiful autumn. Thinking about the change in seasons brought him to mind. He would always burst into her thoughts during the most unexpected times, as only old lovers can. She had first known him in the spring of her life. Now, here he was again. She had been too soon and he was a bit too late; victims of the worst case of timing. Yet, she was wise enough in this season to savor the bloom. She resolved to take him in all she possibly could before

You have been missed.  For as long as I can remember, I have missed you. Without even knowing who you were or why; there was a void. Your absence was an ever present emptiness.  A haunting vacancy. Then your face was made known--the face of one whom was lost for so long.  The once empty chasm spilled over with memories and fantasies of what could be; leaving anticipation--a wish and want for more.  Always more. But to know you are on the other side of this vast space affords strange, warm comfort. It's not enough.  Never enough. Perhaps the day will come, near or far, that will give easement.  Hope.  Delectable hope to be captivated by your embrace. 

We walk hand-in-hand through lush fields of lavender.  Bergamot trees, heavy with fruit, tease us with their intoxicating fragrance.  You lead me with a smile. To be with you is everything and all I've ever imagined passion could be. Finally, I've reached the peace and ease for which I have longed. You are the road to which all winding paths have led.   I've been down this road before, but lost my way. I mistook its direction. It had appeared untraveled and regretfully, I chose another route. And another, and another; until I was lost. But life has circled me back and set me straight again.  I need nothing more than to hold you and be held. To kiss you is to be in paradise. The taste of you is like honey on my lips. Your touch is the only one I crave.  Holding me--you carry me up to the dizzying heights of lofty clouds. Entwined, we fall toward the ocean waves. Enveloped in the warm tumbling current, we breathe through one another until cresting the surface waves.  A