Winter memories

 The cold wind of winter slapped me in the face as I walked the quiet streets of my past. Memories came flooding back at a pace hard to describe, like a movie on fast forward. Houses that each told a story still stand, looking weathered and old. Clapboards need paint, and sidewalks not shoveled.

I chose the cold to take this journey back to my favorite time of year so I'd always remember ice skating and sledding, which brought big smiles and a mother's warmth when it was time to come inside. I also remember snow days from school and countless snowball fights, usually ending when someone got hurt. I wore layers of clothes and green rubber snow boots that kept my feet from freezing. Then came the spring thaw, with muddy everything from head to toe and dirty little snow piles soon to be washed away with a springtime shower.

I'm old now, with winter's memories, remembered and lost, while some remain buried as deep as a snow fort made with frozen mittens. And I'll always remember the smell of baking bread coming from Mom's kitchen a few feet away. My frozen face smiles as I try to walk in the footprints of those who walked before me but are soon blown away by a cold winter wind. And I wonder if someone else chose the cold to go back in time and walk the quiet streets of their youth.

Mike 2024                                                                                              

Creatures big and small

 He once lived off the mountain, where people scurried around like working bees. He had a job, a house, and almost a wife once. He did odd jobs to save enough money to leave that place and find the peace he sought high on a mountain where the only sounds were those of the wild.

He built his house with his bare hands now scared from life and hard work. His was a quiet life when words were said silently if said at all.

The years passed, and he grew old alone with no regrets as he had made more friends than he could count. He named them, and when they came to visit, he would put something in his hand, and they would go to him gently, taking the piece of meat or something from his garden, then back away slowly, looking him in the eye as if saying thanks.

Soon, his age would prevent him from hiking the many trails he had carved over the years, and he knew one day soon he would have to venture down the mountain and seek help. Or he could sit in the rocking chair he had made decades ago and hold out his hands, filled with nuts and things from his garden that fell to the ground without notice, as his friends on the mountain quietly said goodbye to the man who was their friend.

Years later, some hikers came across an old cabin with the skeleton of a man sitting in a rocking chair, where small animals in the dozens seemed to be guarding him. One hiker pointed to the trees, where he could see larger animals of the mountain looking at him as if to say, "Leave this place, as it is sacred ground."

He was a kind and gentle man who became one with his mountain and the friends he made who showed this place to their young for generations, telling them not all who come to the mountains are looking for sport but rather for peace within themselves and bonds of friendship with those creatures both big and small who understood him when words need not be spoken

Mike 2024         

                    

Man on fire

 I met him years ago when he cut my grass. He was a large man who rode around on his mower all day, singing as he went, in heat or cold. He would stop if he saw me and ask about my family, especially my grandson, who he told me was very polite and an excellent young man he would say. 

He told me how he and his aging mom loved avocados, and I happened to have a tree growing that produced many avocados yearly. 

I would pick a bag full, hunt him down doing a lawn, and then give him the bag. You would have thought I gave him a bag of gold. He told me his mom had many recipes for them, and he would surprise me the next time she made something special.

True to his word, a couple of weeks later, he showed up at my door with a covered dish. This here, he said, is Momma's favorite dish, and mine too. He removed the cover, and the heat rose from the dish, invading my nose. My eyes began to water as he laughed and laughed. It's spicy, isn't it? He said with a toothless grin. 

He took a plastic spoon from his coverall pocket and handed it to me, saying, "Go on, now have a taste. "I took a bite, and my tongue stopped working like it does at the dentist after a shot of Novocain. My tears flowed down my face, and when they reached the bottom of my stomach, I had serious thoughts that I was dying. He likes it, Momma. Just look at him! "I managed a smile at Momma as she waved from the truck and yelled, "Thank you for the avocados! "

Well, you can enjoy that now and don't worry about the dishes. They're the ones you throw away. Imagine that, he said, walking back to his truck. It took a while before I regained the feeling in my mouth, but you have to admit, it was one crazy moment in my life that I won't forget.

I heard he passed away recently, shortly after his mother, and now, every time I pick some avocados, I think of him and the simple joy he got watching me on fire.

Mike 2024                                     

           

Bird songs

 She woke to the birds singing, something she had looked forward to since she could remember. Their morning songs, which she sometimes joined in, brought silence as the confused birds wondered who the new guy was, but they soon resumed their morning melodies, knowing it was a friend. With a mug of coffee in hand, she opened the screen door and ventured into the early morning hours when everything was waking up to a new day. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the purest of air, only found on her small farm deep into the forest. She smelled her favorite wildflowers growing in a meadow and the sweet grass surrounding her cottage that the goats kept groomed. There was Fresh cut hay and several rows of corn almost ready for harvest. It was an earthly smell, she thought out loud. She picked some herbs, put them in her apron pocket for cooking later, and let out a small scream as she came upon some strawberries she hadn't looked at for a while. Next came some blueberries she gathered, which got her thinking about making a pie for a dinner guest she wanted to impress. The day moved on as she went down to the spring, where the water bubbled across rocks, inviting her into the cool water where she shed her dress and cleaned herself with lavender soap she had made. Drying with the sun on her skin, she sat upon a boulder as the last few rays of sunlight began to make room for the night. Suddenly, she jumped up and headed for the cottage to finish cooking dinner and making herself as pretty as she could when there was a soft knock at her door. He stood there holding flowers and smiling, telling her how beautiful she looked. And was that blueberry pie he was smelling? It was a nice dinner, but it was getting late, so he kissed her cheek and thanked her, hoping for a kiss in return. All he got was the scent of lavender as she shook his hand goodnight. She fell asleep to the horned owl and awoke to the sound of singing birds, and all was good.

Mike 2024                                                

Wooden porch

 He didn't care much for television. It became a race to see how many car commercials could be aired in a thirty-minute show. Besides, he wouldn't be buying a new car anytime soon, as he turned in his license a while back. He preferred to sit on his front porch and think back to when this little house was bustling with the laughter of children and grandchildren and the smell of Sunday dinners that brought them all together. Now it's quiet, and the laughter has gone someplace else, and the only thing that moved was a teardrop falling down his face and landing on the old wooden porch.

Mike 2024

Last sunset

 I held you as your last sunset gave way to stardust, gently wrapping you in a blanket of softness. I looked at you and saw a tiny smile, but what it said was as large as the heavens themselves. Our time together may have been different than most, but we used every second as if it were our last. Stolen moments that always seemed like the first time with a spark turned into a flame that would never blow out. I can't picture being without you, as that emptiness and sorrow have filled my shattered heart. And no one will convince me time will heal when the pain consumes me with every breath I take. In my dreams, I will hold you again and laugh with you. I will kiss you good morning and again at night. I will remember all we meant to each other, as each memory I have will be a gift of love from you to me.

Mike 2024                                                

Shadow dance

 He danced with her shadow, the one he kept inside. Their favorite song playing in his mind as he held her close, her perfume filling him with memories of days long past and a love that could never end.

They were so young when they met at a USO dance before he shipped out. He spotted her right away, laughing with other girls. Then, her eyes fell on him, and she smiled a smile that burned into his heart and would stay there for decades to come. He asked her for a dance, a boy in a man's uniform who had never danced before, except for the time his mom showed him a few steps to get him through his senior prom just eight months ago.

She smiled and followed him to the dance floor, where he gently held her in his arms until the music stopped, neither wanting to let go. She started to walk back to her friends but turned and reached for his hand. I love this song she said and wrapped her arms around him for one of many dances that glorious night in 1945.

Now, a weathered old man alone without her asks her shadow for one last dance, humming the song they called theirs as his stocking feet tried not to step on her toes. He hears her voice so clearly and smells her perfume, remembering a young boy in a man's uniform who fell in love on a dance floor all those years ago. Now he dances with her shadow, the one he keeps inside. Their favorite song playing in his mind as he holds her close, her perfume filling him with memories of days long past and a love that could never end.

 

 

A dusty picture

 She sat down her, knitting for a moment, as her gaze landed on their wedding picture, which had been on the shelf he had built many years ago. When did she dust it last? She asked out loud. But it wasn't dust she saw; it was her tears falling that clouded the picture. She slowly got up and headed for the kitchen to make a cup of tea but stopped in front of the shelf, taking the picture in her hands and lovingly wiping away any dust with her apron. Back you go, she said to herself, wiping away the tears and picking up her knitting, remembering that day as if it was yesterday. She wore her mother's wedding dress, as did her daughter, with a few alterations. They married at her husband's family farm, and closing her eyes, she pictured it all. The tables filled with food, the smells of the farm, and the way he never seemed to stop smiling at her. She recalled a wooden dancing floor in the meadow where they danced the night away, never wanting the music to stop. She looked at the picture again, drying her eyes, knowing for certain there was no dust.

Mike 2024                                                            

Red envelope of love

 He always remembered a birthday or their anniversary. He was just that kind of man. He enjoyed looking through rows and rows of greeting cards but usually had to settle for the one that only came close to expressing his feelings. So he began to write his own cards, each a testament to their lives, love, and the times they shared for all those years.

He took all the time needed to express his true feelings, writing the verse with pen and paper and sealing it in a red envelope. All the envelopes were red, regardless of sentiment, as it was her favorite color.

In time, he wrote to her often, not just for birthdays or anniversaries but for the everyday things he wanted to say.

He wrote about their first date, first kiss, and the day they married. He wrote about their first house, second car, and a room full of children and grandchildren. He wrote to her so she would never forget the depth of his love, and she kept each one, often picking a red envelope from her chest of treasures and reading it over and over until her tears dried and the next time she opened a red envelope of love.

Mike 2024                                                  

single teardrop

 A tiny raindrop came to rest on his tired and weathered face as he tried to remember her. At times, her image came clearly to him, and he could smile again, but in the dark moments, the ones he tried over and over to see never came. 

Sometimes, without warning, she would appear but in silence, as he strained to hear her say I love you one more time. Now, as he says goodbye, watching her fade into just a tiny raindrop falling down his face, that single teardrop becomes many.

Mike 2024