Marcus Graddy
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Intuitive, Contemplative and Introspective!
Stories (3)
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The Friendship Chasm by Marcus R. Graddy
As I stepped out of the shower and walked into the master bedroom, Carla had laid out my pajamas—a royal blue and silver silk robe and pants set she purchased on our trip to Japan. Carla, my beautiful wife, was so good to me. What would I do without her? This has been a sad and exhausting month; I lost two childhood friends. Two weeks ago Michael was sentenced to life imprisonment. Today, we buried Kevin. How could this have happened?
By Marcus Graddy4 years ago in Fiction
Fast Forward
I have always tried to adhere to a healthy way of life by exercising and eating right—or almost right and consuming in moderation. I am a lover of pasta, bread, cheese and decadent desserts and the first to celebrate with a good wine and an uplifting cocktail. When I’m stressed I tend to meditate, pray, read, write, eat and hit the gym. This past year, with a global pandemic that has taken the world hostage, I have had to adjust my life in ways I am still trying to unpack and sort through. I live a well-oiled, well-organized and methodical life. I am in property management, write in my spare time and work as a management consultant whenever opportunities present themselves. When COVID-19 was first introduced into our normal way of life, I was at a VIP movie premier in Silver Spring, Maryland. Masks had not become an artifact in our existence, but the theatre had more empty seats than I had ever experienced. As time went on, more and more panic and protocols had been added to our lives, but we continued to hold on to the last vestiges of our before pandemic lives albeit we had no idea the grip we would lose. On March 5 a dear friend was celebrating a milestone birthday, which consisted of a brunch that afternoon and a quaint dinner at Yellowfin Steak & Fish House in Edgewater, Maryland that night. The evening affair was a scaled-down version of the celebration she had originally planned. The original host venue wasn’t ready, so Yellowfin became the substitute. The cocktail attire she requested was meaningful now in hindsight because it was the last time I’ve worn a dinner jacket, dress slacks and Mezlan crocodile slip-ons in 10 months. We ate, laughed, drank and chatted until late in the night—not knowing that that evening would be some of the last moments of normalcy we would witness in a very long time. As the world’s news cycles became a home for the Coronavirus and terms such as masks, social distancing, and washing hands began to fill our lives, many things we took for granted—I took for granted, began to change. I no longer could go to the gym to workout. My weekend rituals of Friday night dinners on the town, Saturday matinee movies with dinner afterward and Sunday brunch at the Four Seasons or Marcel’s were brought to a screeching halt. My daily trips to the office were cut back to twice a month for a couple hours and the ability to shake hands, hug and hang out with friends and family became a nostalgic throwback to once upon a time. I tried to workout at home to replace my gym routine, but it simply wasn’t the same. The isolation from people that I loved began to be filled with space and silence and crafting a new way to maneuver through life a struggle. I knew that maintaining my health was going to be a challenge with no gym access so I began to walk and take stairs whenever I could. I tried to walk each morning and when that didn’t happen, to find an exercise video to follow, to keep from being sedentary, became a chore. My diet began to be more of comfort than that of nutrition and I no longer felt nourished, but actually empty—very empty. I knew I needed to come up with something to get me out of the drift and shift the virus had plagued my life with. At the start of 2021 I went on a 21-day fast of only water, oats, grains, fruits and vegetables. I needed something to offset the rigid quarantining I had placed around my world—the world I once knew. I replaced my classic bacon, eggs and cheese grits with oatmeal, nuts and pumpkin seeds. The Saturday shrimp and grits with yogurt and granola, pecans and almonds. There were days when I could make the better choices with no pushback, but there were other days when my cravings for bacon, bread and butter took hold of me like a vice. On the days I didn’t walk, I turned to my staple of exercise standbys and pushed myself to meet my daily goal of 10,000 steps. I admit I found myself hungry all the time and irritable, but after some time, about 9 days I began to feel my feet again. I began to feel like my old self again, or a better reinvigorated self. The pandemic had brought up a lot of stuff for me. Old hurts, ancient wounds, grief that I had pushed back in my psyche and betrayals too prickly to handle with bare hands. The isolations activated vivid dreams that woke me up bewildered and often panting, but soon I came to realize there was inner work I needed to do. The “bubble” of the pandemic simply provided a vehicle for me to zero-in on that work—and the 21-days of fasting fueled the journey. I began to sleep more soundly. I woke up refreshed. I was more alert and aware. I was more focused about the things I wanted and mattered than the things that I didn’t have or the doors I perceived as closed or opportunities that did not come my way. I began to say yes to those things that deserved a yes and noes became whole sentences. As bananas, avocados, walnuts and black bean veggie burgers replaced fettuccini Alfredo, pizza, cheeseburgers and BLTs so did my stalemate of ambivalence that the pandemic had launched on my way of life. I began to incorporate the home gym into my life. The kettle bell, pushups and lunges became my new regime that the treadmill, elliptical and gym strength training circuit had once been. The more I chose better options, walked and took the stairs as opposed to comfort choices, napping and taking the elevator, I began to write and explore areas of my life that needed to be healed. By the time the fast was over I was 17 pounds lighter in body, soul, mind and spirit! I was alert and began to take back the reigns of my life that the mysterious virus with the regal name had placed on our heads. The 21 days was the restart I needed to adjust my crown and reclaim rulership over my life—and yet, I am still subject to a cheeseburger with extra mayo!
By Marcus Graddy5 years ago in Motivation
A Writer's Tip:
The pandemic had affected so many lives around the world in more ways than most people could comprehend. With job losses, businesses shut down or temporarily impacted, schools closed and millions out of work, many Americans were struggling. Troy Williams was no exception. He had been out of work for almost a year because his waiter position had been cut when the local restaurant that had employed him closed down indefinitely due to COVID-19-restrictions. He was barely making ends meet when he was working 6 days a week and his unemployment benefits had run out. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do. The world had gone mad and he had no control over what was happening to it or what had happened to him, but the one thing he had control over was the freedom he felt when he was on a run. He laced up his sneakers and headed out for the 10-mile trek in Rock Creek Park he began to maneuver shortly after the virus took hold of the world. The weather was brisk and cold for the last few weeks autumn had left in the Capitol City to enjoy. As Troy turned down the path headed toward Beach Drive, he saw a backpack that seemed to be out of place against the foliage of the park. Did someone drop it by mistake? He didn’t want to break his stride to look into it, but his curiosity got the better of him. Reluctantly he stopped and picked it up. It looked practically new. He walked over to the nearby bench to see if there was any identification inside. He unzipped it and inside were a bottle of water, hand sanitizer, an envelope, a face towel and a black notebook. He sat down on the bench and retrieved the notebook. “Moleskine?” Troy muttered under his breath. The same brand name that was on the backpack. He thumbed through it and saw that it was filled with journal entries, but nothing indicating the author’s identification. He opened the envelope, stunned by the amount of money inside it—all one-hundred-dollar bills. He looked around. Someone was obviously looking for the backpack and he had possession of it. This was a lot of money—money that he desperately needed. Money that would make a few of his problems go away at least for a little while. As much as he wanted to keep it, he knew it was important for him to find the person the backpack belonged to. He searched the backpack and there was a hidden side pocket that made the whole mystery clear. “In the event that this backpack is found, please call James Grant at 202-555-7777.” Troy reached inside his pocket to get his cell phone and began to dial the number on the ID badge. The phone rang once and a husky voice answered on the other end.
By Marcus Graddy5 years ago in Humans
