A little kindness

 Inside every person, there is goodness waiting for the right moments to show and be shared. Being friendly, smiling, embracing, and generally being kind to others is easy. It's our nature to be that way until those bad apples show themselves, taunting, bullying, and making our hearts feel less full of goodness and peace. I see children who never smile. Older people walk with their heads down, so they miss the look of someone who could hurt them. The days of gentlemen tipping their hats to the ladies, walking outside a sidewalk so she wouldn't get splashed by passing cars, all memories of when hearts were full of happiness and being kind was just the norm. 

We can never go back to those times as a nation because today's people seem to brush away the traditions of years past and look for the easy way out in a life that is already too easy, playing video games for fifteen hours straight while the sun is shining. The beautiful blue sky has no meaning for them as long as they can add points and claim victory. The sad part is that those behaviors are tolerated by those supposedly raising them to become someone they can be proud of.

My time on this earth is passing by, but I know as long as I'm breathing, I will look for the good in people because they number in the thousands, even millions. Each one allows me to show kindness and let them know they are important and deserving of all life has to offer if they would just take a moment and look around them. Wildflowers grow, and a summer rain leaves behind a colorful rainbow for one to wish upon or search for a pot of gold. A sunset that leaves you in awe and so many stars you cannot count, but you'll try. An evening walk holding hands and a soft kiss goodnight to someone you love, a good book, a favorite movie, and watching the sunrise on the beach. It doesn't take much to be kind and caring as most people have a big heart and want to be someone people remember as such.

Mike 2024

One last visit

 I paid one more visit to my hometown to relive precious moments before time ran out and my memories followed. I stood across the street looking at my childhood home, which seemed so very small but, as a youth, looked so large. I remembered things like the apple and plum trees, now dead with age but once full of fruit for the picking, which I did until I got a stomachache. I can see the ice-skating rink my dad made every winter of my youth, and my family is skating and laughing as if it were happening now. I see a young me riding my orange peddle car up and down the driveway under my mom's careful watch. I can see my grandmother and me walking into town, looking in the store windows, and her opening her change purse for a nickel I could use to buy my favorite penny candies.

I was tired but walked into town, seeing once familiar stores and diners gone by the wayside and replaced with Dollar General and cell phone outlets. I had a seat watching people speed past me, never saying hello or giving a wave. Just too busy, I said to myself as I remembered the small town at Christmas when all the light poles were decorated along with the department store windows that drew a crowd every day of the holiday season.

I never saw a police officer walking his beat and tipping his hat to the ladies. It was just a SUV cruising past me and parking. He asked if I was lost and asked to see my identification. He left, and I continued my walk down the street of my first true love. I stopped in front of her house, only to be recognized by the house number I'd never forget. The memories of our love and the heartache when we went our separate ways, then the news of her passing at such an early age filled me with tears I would shed for decades.

My last stop was the cemetery, where I said hello to my parents, my sister, and my true love. My nephew and my brother-in-law were also there, gone but never forgotten. I spent a long time sitting on the stone bench as darkness crept upon me. Tomorrow, I will fly back home, remembering my visit, feeling closer to my youth, and praying that when my time comes to rest alongside those I loved, I will shed no more tears of sadness, only tears of joy.

Mike 2024

Alone

 Somewhere in my life, I began to believe that being popular or the life of the party wasn't all it was cracked up to be. When I had what I call my awakening, I discovered just how many friends I had. Once the booze quit flowing at my expense, the friends disappeared into the night, and aside from my family, I was alone. Being alone gave me time to think about my writing, and I found myself doing more and more, honing my skills at storytelling and digging deeper into my mind to discover my limits, if any. I wasn't alone as my characters became my friends, each unique in their own ways and never judging me but challenging me with every sentence.

The better part of my life has passed me by, but age is only a number that gives me a chance to prove to myself that I not only lived a life that needed change but was destined to do it for reasons I can honestly say were spiritual and often mind-blowing. I can't count the times after reading what I had written, I sat wondering where that came from. It was as if the hands of the angels were guiding my hand as I wrote. One day, when my ashes are scattered into the vastness of the ocean and the white birch trees of the forest, I will have my questions answered, and my writing will be read as tears flow down the faces of all who took the time to understand my words.

Mike 2024

 I sometimes have to go deep inside of my mind and slow down. When hundreds of thoughts are racing each other for the finish line, some are out of the race quickly when I deem them forgotten. Others run neck and neck, fighting for a space amounting to something I want to write about. The winner gets my approval and goes from a small thought to a full-fledged story. The same things hold true for lines, paragraphs, and chapters. I pit the words against each other, and may the best man win.

Mike 2024

The Mountain

 Rain fell upon the tin roof of my cabin, a peaceful sound at first but growing louder with each pounding drop. Soon, it abruptly stopped, and the mountain returned to its natural rhythm. I made a cup of coffee and stepped outside to a now sunny, cool day and thought of nothing else but that moment.

The forest gave me everything I needed, and I only took what I would use, nothing more, nothing less. I gave back by providing the remains of the game I killed and harvesting gardens that the small animals pilfered with my blessings.

The trees made my shelter, and each swing of the axe was a testament to my commitment to a life left alone and happiness found. An old wood-burning stove came to me one day as I hiked the mountain, coming across a burned-down cabin. It was scorched but intact, so I returned the following day with my sled and brought it home. Tonight, I would have enough heat to shed a few blankets.

Growth takes time, patience, trial and error, and the strength and fortitude to see you through almost everything. Growth, both physically and spiritually, molds you into who you are and who you will become. And there is no better place to accomplish that than the mountains. The pace at which you grow is in your hands, just like the gardens are with proper nurturing and love.

Being alone doesn't mean being lonely. It's a choice when the world doesn't satisfy you anymore. A world full of noise and other pollution-fighting to invade my soul and my being. Greed and half-truths, crime, and hate are just a few things that made the mountains call to me. And it's here I will stay until my bones become brittle, my steps slow to a stop, and I am one with the mountain.

Mike 2024

Icebox

 Springtime was coming to a close, he said to himself. Cool days gave way to the summer heat that again outstayed its welcome. Summer months meant sleepless nights trying to stay cool, but with no electricity or other creature comforts, he made do by opening the two windows he had in the cabin he built almost fifty years ago. Once a week, he made the journey on foot, pulling a small wagon to the icehouse in the small town about three miles away. As a younger man he took advantage of these trips by shooting game and finding new herbs and other forest gifts that sustained him his entire life. But these days, it seemed all he had the mind to do was take the long walk, slowly pulling the wagon and buying a block of ice. It seemed like forever until the town was in sight, and he saw a line outside the icehouse doing what everybody had to do. He made small talk to folks he had known for half a century even though the conversation topics repeated themselves. Did you get your gardens done, or do you still do odd jobs, even an invite to Sunday supper after church? He was polite as he had always been, and before he left town to return home, he had a handshake on a job he could do whenever he was inclined to do it. The porch on the Smith cabin had rotted and caused Mrs. Smith to fall through the floorboards. Like most women around these parts, she was a tough old gal, so nobody would ever know about it, even if she was hurt.

Back home, he put the block of ice in the ice box to keep his meat cold until he ate it all. The following day, He made another trip to town to fix the old porch and another block of ice. He went to the sawmill and picked out six boards made of oak, which he preferred over pine. Oak was stronger and would outlast the Smiths and himself if we were being honest. It took him only a short time to make the repairs, and just about supper time, Mrs. Smith called him to come and eat. It was a big meal of fried chicken, white potatoes, greens, and an apple pie he couldn't wait to sink into.

His job in town was over, so he thanked the Smiths, picked up a block of ice, and headed home. It was nearly dark when he saw his cabin ahead, and he picked up his step, as being in total darkness at his age could mean trouble. Once he got inside, he groped around, lighting lamps and putting his ice up. It had been a long day, and he was tired. He skipped his nightly shot of whiskey and said a quick prayer, thanking God for giving him this day. He then closed his eyes and hoped for another.

He didn't know for sure what day it was; it didn't matter much anymore. There wouldn't be any visits from grown-up children as both had passed on at early ages from the virus that didn't spare anyone. Neither of them had any kids, so he'd never be called Grampa, which stung a bit. They lost folks here as well, but for some reason unknown to the town's doctor, a few were spared and went on to live full lives. He was one of them, even though he felt more like he just lived day to day until one morning when all the ice had melted, and he couldn't face another walk into town and back. It didn't bother him. As a matter of fact, he smiled, knowing he would see his wife and children soon. He took one last look around his cabin and the simplicity of it that he liked. He poured a tall glass of whiskey, drank it, and looked up at the stars through a window he had made so long ago.

Mike 2024

Bucket list undone

 I'll never get to live in a hollow surrounded by ancient mountains. I'll never be self-sufficient and grow a vegetable garden. I'll never know the voices of the forests as they beckon me into the thickness of the woods and the sounds of branches breaking as I'm watched. 

I won't live in a cabin I built myself or shoot a deer for food. Time has caught up to me, and it's okay because I've lived a whole life, one I wouldn't change—well, maybe some things. I would be more caring for others and not hold back my feelings. I would have been more willing to make new friends and venture outside of my four walls. I would have found a way to express myself in words people wanted to read instead of decorating my office walls with rejection letters.

I would have tried harder with the mother of my children and made a go of it instead of running at the first signs of trouble. I would have saved money rather than being everybody's friend at the bar, as I picked up too many tabs. I would have said no to the cocaine and other devil's concoctions I so willingly partook in. Until one day long in the tooth, I did realize it. I quit the drugs, the booze, and too many women to even count who meant nothing to me. I changed and lost my so-called friends who did not want to know me anymore after the party ended for me. I'm not saying I found Jeaus because I never lost him. I'm saying I woke up to the fact that all life is short-lived, and we have to decide what's best for us to pass down to our children's children. So, knowing what I do now, my bucket list will go undone with a tear or two. But I will try to fulfill that list through my writing. Sharing my stories of part truth, part fiction, and a dash of creativity. I suppose doing that is a piece of my bucket list that I can fulfill.

Mike 2024