Time of day

 

He sat alone in the time of day he liked the best, the time between light and dark when things quieted down, and the hidden stars began to shine. He sat in a rocking chair he had made decades ago for his wife as she so loved to rock and knit sometimes by the light of a full moon. If he closed his eyes, he could see her plain as day in the chair wearing an apron covered with fruits. She was more of a talker than he was, but he was a good listener and spoke back at the appropriate times.  He missed her that he knew for sure. He rocked and thought about all the life that once called this place home. The few head of cattle and a horse or two over the years. Some chickens and a goat named Billy.  They were all for the kids who learned how to take care of them, and love them, an education not found in school learning. The kids are all grown now with kids of their own who love to come and visit this old place with its perfect hiding places and room to run like the wind without hitting a wall. The animals are long since gone except for old Blue who by his account must be about fifteen years old now. He doesn’t do much anymore but by golly he still tries to run down a bird but mostly gives up before even getting off the porch. He had a good life here by all accounts and someday when the rocker stops rocking, he will leave this house to find his place with his only true love. But not today and maybe not tomorrow because he still has stars to look at and enjoy the quiet of his favorite time of day.

Mike 2022

The whole of ourselves

 

The whole of ourselves is made up of many different emotions. Happiness, sorrow, joy and fear. We constantly are at their mercy as they can strike at any given moment. The average person goes through a variety of said emotions trying their best to understand why. They ask themselves are they being punished for something; did they draw the short straw? Or are they just a victim of circumstance. The reality of our whole self is we aren’t experiencing anything different; we just seem to be given more than our fair share. In our lifetime if we are blessed with many years, you must put the whole of life into perspective and weigh out the troubling times with the wonderful times. I believe we were meant to experience every emotion ever known but the difficult part is when we are faced with too many in a short span. Having to may emotions thrown at you will cause an effect called mental overload. You will shut down and dismiss the emotions giving you the peace you long for. The most difficult part of a mental overload is coming out of it. The great healer known as time will help with that. Once the emotions have been slowed, new ones will begin to grow eventually taking over the ones you’ve dealt with. You will understand this if you’ve ever experienced something in your life that broke you. Once you’ve cried out that emotion it can never come back to you the same way. It diminishes to an acceptable level you can deal with. The whole of ourselves is a complex machine and one that’s constantly testing our abilities to over come them and hold our lives in check.

Mike 2022

Getting around to it

 

The empty tuna can sat on the floor next to the cat’s dish. He had meant to throw it in the trash but, he’d get around to it. It was cold in the room he liked best in the old house. The one with the fireplace that he dares not light because he thought he heard something crawling around up there. He’d been meaning to shine a light up into it but, he hadn’t gotten around to that yet. He had wondered if he did light a fire maybe whatever it was would scurry down and he could throw a bucket over it. He’d have to think on that. So instead, he covered himself up with a couple quilts his mom had made a long time ago. They were what she would have called thread bear, but aside from some toes sticking through, they did the trick. He couldn’t sew so no sense thinking about mending them. The cable tv wasn’t working, he’d been meaning to call them but hasn’t gotten around to that either. His dad used to say he was about last in the line when brains were handed out. Dad was full of witty sayings, but most were mean. He liked to read especially books with big print because his glasses got smashed to bits when they fell on the floor, and he stepped on them. He’d been meaning to get some new ones, but he hadn’t gotten around to doing that. He didn’t have any clocks in the house that worked so he never really knew what time it was. He just figured it was day when it was light outside and night when the blackness surrounded him. He figured he didn’t need to think about fixing the clocks. He sure missed his moms cooking but she couldn’t go in the kitchen anymore and dad was in the basement. It was daytime when there was a loud knocking on the front door. He knew that because it was light outside. He slowly peeked through the small window on the door and saw some policemen standing there. He wanted to be a policeman, but he never got around to doing it. He opened the door, and one policeman covered his face, and another threw up right on the porch. He’d get around to cleaning that. They took him to a nice place where the clocks worked, and the room was warm. They asked him why he hadn’t called anybody about his moms and dads’ deaths, and he told them he hadn’t gotten around to it yet, and who would feed his cat?

Mike 2021

A simple cup of tea

 

We’d share a cup of tea and chat about everything. The topic didn’t matter much it was just being in each others company that truly mattered. "A hot cup of tea will cure anything", she’d say to me. As a young boy my tea was more milk and sugar but in time, I began to like the flavors of the teas themselves and actually acquired blends from across the globe in pursuit of the perfect one. It became something we both looked forward to, the arrival by post of a new flavor. Opening the box was a labor of love careful not to damage a single leaf. With the water coming to a boil, we’d put a bag in each of our favorite cups both well worn from years of daily duty. "Breath in" she would say, "oh what a marvelous aroma, don’t you agree?" When the new flavor had the time it needed or we thought it needed, we’d ring out the excess on our spoon careful not to waist a single drop. Then the waiting game began. Letting it cool down just the right amount to avoid a scalded mouth and ruining the moment entirely. Smiling at each other we picked up our cups and let a sip enter our mouths. Feeling much like a connoisseur of fine wines I let the tea swish around my mouth as I told myself out loud of course how I found it to be. "Simple," I said. "With just a sprig of tartness like a citrus of sorts." She did the same and agreed with my assessment adding she tasted an earthy taste like a damp moss after a spring rain. It was a lovely blend that we agreed would make an excellent addition to our cupboards. As time passed and my life took me many miles away, we never lost the times we spent together sharing a cup of tea. We’d chat on the phone for hours surprising each other on that day’s choice sometimes choosing the same blends. When she became too ill to have our tea together, I would remind her of all her favorites and shed smile letting me know she remembered. When she passed, I gathered up her teas and special cup hanging it next to my own. I still to this day brew two cups and chat with her wherever she may be. I hope she’s in a beautiful garden sharing her favorite blends and telling the others how she and her son found the key to happiness with just a few sips of tea and a loving daily chat.

   For my dear mother who passed away from The virus leaving behind a treasure chest of memories for me to remember and savor much like the teas we shared for a lifetime.

Setting course

 

The ocean stretched out in front of him beckoning that he follow deeper and deeper into the unknown. It’s a different world at sea, a magical vast canvas,

the boat a pencil making invisible lines to somewhere. You feel so small out there going days even weeks without sighting another vessel. The only sound the engine chugging along in a constant melody that you sometimes shut down to take in perfect silence. You never worry about getting lost as the compass and the stars will forever be your guide as you wander into the deepest of blue. After weeks at sea a bird lands on the guard rail announcing to you land is near. Looking around you spot it about three miles ahead. You slowly navigate your boat into a cove where you lay anchor and step off into waist deep cool water. Once on shore it takes a moment to get your land legs back then you proceed to explore what appears to be a small uninhabited piece of paradise. You gather the fruits of the island fresh and bountiful, placing as many as will fit into your cloth sack. A bit further into the landscape the sound of a waterfall beckons you. Shedding your shorts, you dive into the cold water ridding yourself of caked on salt you’ve carried on your being for weeks maybe more. Cleaned and stocked up you wade back to you boat and prepare a meal of fish and fruit washing it all down with clear fresh water. Now as the boat rocks you to sleep you dream of tomorrow and where the tides will take you. You dream about those you said goodbye to months ago waving as you left port knowing you did all you could do over the years and now it was time to set an invisible course because you don’t care where you are heading just that you are.

Dusty wooden box

 

A small wooden box sat on his dresser. A dust collector except for the times he noticed it and rubbed it clean with the handkerchief he kept in his pocket. He would open it and smile at his treasures collected over time, each object a memory of his life. A red pocket knife his dad gave him on his tenth birthday. He later learned his dad had ordered it out of the sears catalog. That knife turned sticks into spears and sliced countless apples. A constant reminder that he was armed in case of alien attacks. There was a picture of Christ on the cross a holy card given to him by his mom telling him to hold onto it and pray when he felt the need. He couldn’t count the times he did just that. There was a silver dollar his grandpa gave to him the day he graduated from high school telling him his first dollar was free but those to follow would not come so easy. A small cloth bag holding six marbles that he played with as a boy. Each time he saw them he was reminded of childhood friends who faded away over time, but the memories stayed with him always. There were a couple military ribbons he earned while in the navy and a medal he didn’t talk about too much. A lock of his wife’s hair, a baby bootie and a worn-out leather wallet he carried for most his adult life. Closing the old box on the dresser he looked into the mirror and realized all the years he’s been on this earth amount to a dusty wooden box filled with one mans treasures and he was ok with that.

I wept once more

 

A FLEETING SCENT OF LAVENDER OR MAYBE LILAC FILLS MY SENSES BRIEFLY BUT MEMORABLY.A DISTANT SMILE COMES INTO VIEW ONLY TO BE ERASSED BY THE HORN OF AN APPROACHING TRAIN. STANDING IN OUR FAVORITE SPOT ON THE BANKS OF THE MIGHTY NIAGARA I REACH FOR YOUR HAND AND FOR AN INSTANT I FEEL YOU AND MY LEGS GROW WEAK. THERES A CHILL IN THE OCTOBER AIR AS I REACH INTO MY POCKET AND FIND THE TINY PACKAGE IVE BEEN WAITING TO SHARE WITH YOU. A HALF SMOKED CIGARETTE WITH YOUR LIPSTICK ON THE FILTER, A MATCH BOOK FROM YOUR FAVORITE RESTAURANT AND A WHISP OF YOUR HAIR HELD TOGETHER WITH A PIECE OF RED RIBBON YOU USED TO WEAR .I TOOK AN IMAGINARY PUFF OF THE CIGARETTE AND OFFERED IT TO YOU JUST LIKE WE DID SO MANY TIMES.I HELD ONTO THE MATCH BOOK RUBBING MY FINGERS ACROSS ITS SURFACE REMEMBERING YOUR LAUGHTER AND CONTAGIOUS SMILE ACROSS THE TABLE.CLOSING MY EYES I PUT YOUR WHISP OF HAIR TO MY NOSE TAKING IN WHAT WAS LEFT OF YOUR SMELL AND AFTER THIRTY THREE YEARS, I WEPT ONCE MORE.