Night visions

 As a child, he would tell his parents about his dreams and the people in them. They passed it off for a while as cute stories until one morning, he came to the breakfast table looking like he hadn't slept much. "More dreams," his dad asked, sipping his coffee with a grin. The boy nodded and sat silently for what seemed a long time.

Tell me about your dream, sweetheart, his mom asked. There was a pause, and then he started. Grandpa came to visit me, he said. We talked and talked in my room about his youth and the adventures he had. I didn't like the smell of his cigar, but he said it was a part of who he was, and I'd get used to it. Tell me more, his mom said. Well, he walked funny, but I didn't say anything.

By now, the dad was looking at his son with great interest, as his son had never met his grandpa. He was a strict man who walked with a limp from an injury when he was very young. He also smoked cigars he had hand-rolled at a town tobacco store. Dad had lost all interest in the newspaper he was reading and asked his son what else they had talked about throughout the night.

The boy thought for a while and then softly told them they spoke of olden times when people were friendlier than they are today. Neighbors helped out whenever there was a need, and life was quieter than today. He told his grandson that he has hundreds of relatives in a faraway place and that someday, a long time from now, he will meet them, and they will welcome and teach him all they know. He said our talk last night was just a sample of what awaits you, Dad, Mom, and everybody we know.

Today, that boy is an old man with countless stories about his relatives, who visit him at night, not in dreams but in their likeness. They sit at the foot of his bed and tell stories, some centuries old, some yet to happen.

He couldn't explain why this had happened to him, and those who knew kept it quiet so people wouldn't think him nuts.

The old man passed in his sleep, his empty room smelling of cigars, not the ending but the beginning of a new story.

Mike 2025                                                

Looking back

 As he looked back on his life, he tried to remember when the colors became black and white, when the sounds of children's laughter were silenced with age, and when memories once so vivid were too far buried to remember.

Looking back, he admitted he was a good man and acknowledged that to be true somewhere along the line. He wasn't the perfect husband or father, and few could call him a friend, but he strived to be there no matter what, whenever he was needed, and in his book, that was important.

Looking back on a life filled with good and evil, he liked to think he did his best but knew there were times when the good angel wasn't strong enough to win. He accepted those moments, but through prayer, he knew he was forgiven.

Looking back on a life filled with ups and downs, he is at peace with his decisions, and his heart is whole. As he looks at his image in the mirror, he sees the age that crept on him with wrinkles, worry lines, and decades of staring at that image, hoping it would smile back.

Mike 2025                                   

 A sailor doesn't just fall in love with the sea; the sea allows it, especially when they are hundreds of miles out, with nothing in sight but the silhouettes of other ships on the endless horizon.

The sea beckons you to go further into the unknown, never knowing what to expect but always being vigilant as you steam forward.

There is no other place on earth where you can witness pods of whales and countless dolphins playing with hundreds of tons of steel as they speed right past you, letting you know your presence is welcome in their world.

Giant turtles and manta rays, some as big as a small car, come alongside the mighty warship that slows to a crawl to witness nature's best and sometimes its worst.

The sea is Mother Nature's kindness. Its glassy water and gentle breezes put you in a state of calm and wonder. But her wrath can be quick and furious, as waves as tall as a ten-story building crash down on the warship, leaving it to bob around like a cork, defenseless and at her mercy.

Sacrifices are few, but men overboard occur more than we care to count as another sailor is pulled into the depths of Neptune's realm. It's been said that some go smiling as their dream of becoming one with the sea is a reality.

Back on land, a sailor counts the days to sail again to unknown parts of the sea and the wonders that await him. He's taken this journey many times and wouldn't change a thing. The smell of the sea and salt hits your face as you look at that endless horizon around you.

I was born to be a sailor and always will be as long as there's a sea to sail and respect to give to the guardians of the deep.

Mike 2025                                          

Grandma's table

 As a young boy, I often stayed at my grandma's house. Usually, after school, I would walk a couple of miles to the smallest house on the block. It was more like a cottage, and everything about it was just like her. She didn't have much of anything new, but having anything at all was good enough for her. She kept the little house spic and span washing her floors on her knees and always a clean cloth in her apron pocket to fend off any dust that tried to get inside.

She loved plants, and every windowsill was adorned with one kind or another that she sang to as she watered. Somehow, I believed they heard her. She had a small kitchen with a red table and chairs with silver legs where we sat as she cut off the tips of green beans. Other times, we'd talk as cookies baked in the oven, making my mouth water.

Later, I learned that her life was hard, and although she was not old at the time, she seemed so to me. I would walk with her to her job in an ice cream cone factory, which filled the air with a sweetness I'll never forget. She held my hand, and we talked about everything, including my biggest wish to ride on the train that passed right in the back of her house.

On my eleventh birthday, she surprised me with two tickets on the Beeliner passenger train. It would be a six-hour ride from Buffalo to Niagara Falls and back. She packed us lunch because the club car was expensive, but I didn't care; I was busy looking out the window at miles and miles of beautiful scenery.

We often spoke at that red table about our adventures and the importance of always learning and exploring. I believe she was my best friend, and to this day, I can hear her singing to her plants and the smell of her perfume as she dusted everything in sight. I could taste her chocolate chip cookies and feel her hand holding mine as we walked to the ice cream cone factory, talking about everything my young mind could think of, and she always seemed to have just the right answers.

Mike 2025                                         

Old wooden coaster

 He stood next to the sign saying, "You must be this high to ride the mighty coaster." Maybe next year, his Mom said, taking his hand and heading for the kiddie park where everybody rode. 

The following year, he did everything he could to grow three inches. He stretched, did pull-ups, ate vegetables, and passed with an inch to spare when the day came to stand by the sign.

Waiting in line to get your turn on the coaster gave you plenty of time to think of a reason to run away as the wooosh of a car raced past you. The sounds of both happy and terrified passengers repeated again and again until the squeaking brakes brought the coaster to the end of the ride.

The moment of truth was when you were strapped in alongside a perfect stranger who would laugh with you, scream with you, and hold on to you for dear life as you raced around the wooden monster's breakneck turns, dips, and overall terror.

For years, you had watched from the ground as seasoned riders raised their hands above their heads, defying gravity and some soiling their pants. You didn't want to raise your arms to the sky, but your new friend beside you made it easy. She grabbed hold of your arm and held it tight, raising both hers and your arms high above your heads, and certain death, or so you thought the first time.

Racing around the track, arms raised, feet lifting off the floor, you felt sick and frightened, yet you couldn't wait for your next ride. You rode the coaster five times that day, each time less terrifying as you reached for the sky around one complete loop. However, the operator told you that you had to keep your arms in the car or be banned from riding again.

As years passed, I must have ridden that thing a hundred times and became known as the coaster king. My picture hung on a signpost where everybody could read my accomplishments. Fast forward to the day my son made the height cut, and the two of us strapped in, waiting for the chain clanking as the first car began the slow climb upward with seconds before the car dove down the track, building speed as it went. I knew every curve, every loop, and every chance to raise my arms and be lifted enough to say a prayer to keep me safe.

It was a sad day when the park announced it would be closing for good. The rides were dismantled, and many were sold to other parks across the country, some as far away as Miami.

But what about the monster coaster? Where would it end up? Once completely dismantled, the massive number of wooden planks and the machinery to operate them were loaded into box cars, the destination unknown. As it turned out, the coaster was sold to Coney Island Amusements, just fifty miles away. Construction took a year to complete, but on the day it opened, my son and I were first in line. Would it be the same as they remembered it being? 

As the coaster climbed to the top of the first hill, he noticed guard rails had been installed around every sharp turn and loop. He didn't understand until he realized this coaster was ten times faster than the first one. Tears rushed across your face, and your skin was pulled back like a crazy cartoon character. To be truthful, I was scared, as was my son, who held onto me as tightly as he could, and even after the ride came to a stop, I had to gently pry his hands off of my arm.

My age prevents me from riding the old wooden coaster anymore, but I take my grandchildren whenever I can. I cheer them on as the chain begins to pull the cars to the top. The voices and screams of excited riders fill the air, taking me back to my youth, standing next to a wooden sign and wishing for three more inches.

Mike 2025                                              

Sailor games

 The ship rolled and pitched its mighty propellers, fighting to make headway in the vast Atlantic Ocean. For three days and nights, even the most seasoned sailors strapped themselves in their racks with no chance of eating, as the galley was a war zone with flying pots and pans, making cooking impossible. But we were an American ship of war, and duty stations had to be manned, even if it meant securing your body to the ship with a rope.

Being hundreds of miles from the nearest port, with sixty-foot waves pounding the ship, was as close to hell as I've ever been. After the end of the second day, the seas settled down a little, but the old salts said it was just a lull and more would come even worse than the first.

With spirits low, an old salt said we should play the blanket ride, which meant sprinkling baby powder along the deck for fifty feet or so and folding a blanket just big enough to sit on. Then, you wait for the ship to climb to the top of a giant wave, holding on for dear life. As it went nose-first over the massive wave, you'd let go and race at a high rate of speed down the fifty feet of the deck like a kid at an amusement park.

It was a lot of fun and took your mind off the severity outside. That is until I was racing down the passageway at breakneck speed, a hatch door opened, and the captain stepped out. I knocked his legs out from under him, and my life passed before my eyes.

He stood there looking at me for what seemed a lifetime, then reached for my blanket, asking me if I thought we had invented that game. The captain rode the blanket game alongside us for the next few minutes, laughing like we'd never heard him laugh.

The seas calmed at the end of the third day, and the storm had passed. The ship sustained minor damage, but we returned to sea after four days in port.

The ocean can be a brutal lady if she wants to, and the things you go through are sometimes biblical. But once you've rung more saltwater out of your socks than most ever will, you may understand why a sailor is always a sailor who listens for the winds to blow and the blankets and baby powder to come out to play.

Mike 2025                                         

Love story

 The stars dropped tears on my heart the day you left my side.

The leaves on the trees quietly fall to the ground, joining you as the sun rises and the moon disappears on another empty day.

Life's colors fade without your love, but memories appear to comfort me and guide me with a whisper on the wind I know is you.

Books have been written about love stories and hearts broken, but I never thought they were real until you were gone, and my heart shattered into a million pieces of sand scattered to the wind and coming to rest on your favorite beach.

I'll grow older without you, something we agreed to do together, but sometimes sorrow steps in, leaving one behind broken with so much more to give. I will move on with baby steps and the belief that we will meet again. I will tend your garden, remember you with every colorful bloom I pick, and put them in a vase to remind me of you.

At first, I thought, how would I ever go on living without you? But every day finds me a little less broken as my sorrow begins to fade. The countless memories fill my heart with joy as I give thanks for all we shared and for the perfect love story ever written.

Mike  2025