Shangri La (continued)

I chose the name Shangri La because it is a fictional place and I want to keep my chronicle free from lawsuit attacks.

Mifanwe is the name of the heroin in my father's bedtime stories, whose adventures miraculously mirrored my own.  I liked his stories about her better than those read to me from books. 

So far I have only had one response, that from Trev.  Please let me know if you  would like to know more details of the place where Mifanwe has moved to.


Chronicles of Shangri La (continued)

Mifanwe had always been called Miv, so from now on that will be her name.  She gazed at the stacks of unpacked boxes around her,  the furniture placed wherever it would fit, and much too big for the smaller rooms she was to inhabit.

Little by little the living space became more habitable.  There was a little alcove off the kitchen she has chosen to have covered in linoleum instead of carpet.  This became the tiny dining room, which was just large enough to accommodate the table that opened to twice it's size when the hinged top opened.  Eight chairs were too many, but some could be stored in the garage.  The bedstead,  new mattress and night tables were delivered and the foam mattress moved to the guest room.  She now had a proper bed.  With the help of her son, who lived a couple of hours drive away, and both grandsons, the furniture was assembled and pictures hung.  The boxes, stacked in the living room five and even six on top of each other, gradually dwindled as places were found for the things acquired over 64 years of marriage that she could not bear to give away.

Those first few weeks passed in a kind of  trance.  Get up in the morning.  Push the button,  make some coffee, get mail at the near by clubhouse, and back to the work of sorting and unpacking.  Miv explored the grounds on foot, for exercise and to find her way around.  She had been provided with some rudimentary maps by the Marketing Department, but the names of the streets and buildings were not helpful.  Names such as Canyonside, Gardenside, Oakside, Mountainglen, Lakeview, Lakeglen, all seemed to blur together.  There was a large meeting room called Santa Cruz Hall, but it was several exploratory walks before she found it.

Shangri La chronicles

Introduction.

At Wendy's request I have begun a fictitious chronicle of the place where a certain widow chose to reside shortly after the death of her husband of 64 years.  It is fictitious, any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1

A series of fortuitous events allowed our heroine to find herself in a gated community called Shangri La, somewhere in Southern California.  It was October, but although some  leaves were falling, there was also much tropical vegetation, lofty palm trees, towering  birds-of-paradise, hibiscus, succulents and carefully tended roses everywhere.

The gated community housed at any given time somewhat less that 800 people.  There were two clubhouses, north and south, two swimming pools, one outdoors, the other and indoor pool and spas with sauna and exercise room adjoining.  Each clubhouse had its own dining room and kitchen, with terraces where in the warmer months, residents could dine outside, to the soothing sounds of falling water.  There were koi ponds, and large turtles that sunned themselves with legs outstretched.

A paradise indeed.

Our heroine, who shall be called Mifanwe, arrived behind the moving van in a Tesla driven by her son.  The movers were directed to place what furniture had been selected from her previous home in the small two bedroom villa she had managed to secure.  The mattress went on the floor.  The queen size bed frame would come later. The king size bed had been left behind.