Key strokes

 Sometimes, the right words just won't come. When I think back to my younger days, writing on a manual typewriter, the tapping of each keystroke created a symphony of words spilling onto the paper. Then, silence would fall as I searched for precisely the right words. Piles of crumpled paper would litter the room, their distance from me reflecting my level of frustration. 

As time went on and computers replaced typewriters, my struggles remained the same; it was just easier to hit "delete" than to crumple up sheets of paper. Yet, I do miss tossing those crumpled balls and seeing how far they could go, hoping for a three-pointer in the trash can. 

Now, I find myself staring at a screen instead of a wall when my mind goes blank. But I smile when inspiration strikes, and the words flow with each silent stroke of the keys. One of these days, I'm going to dust off my old typewriter and try writing the old-school way again. I bet I'll find myself wondering what it would have been like to use an ink pen and parchment paper to search for exactly the right words. 

— Mike, 2025                                             

Winter walk

 I long for the days when snow fell gently from the heavens onto quiet streets, where the only sounds were the crunch of my boots and the occasional car making its way home. I walk alone, reminiscing about my youth—sledding down a snow-covered hill on a piece of cardboard and ice skating on a pond we used to fish in during the summer. 

I stroll deep into the night when the houses are dark, and dreams are being made. As children sleep, they awaken to a snow day filled with building snowmen and engaging in snowball fights. When the day comes to an end, there are countless footprints and patches of nearly green grass where we rolled the snowman pieces. My mom would wonder where all the carrots went and about Dad's scarf he received last Christmas. 

As night falls and darkness descends, a fresh blanket of white silently covers everything, like a chalkboard ready to start anew. While I walk through the darkness, surrounded by a million snowflakes that coat me from head to toe, my thoughts drift back to the simple pleasures of life, when my biggest worry was whether there would be a warm bowl of soup waiting for me after the long, cold walk home from school.

Now, as I wander among the snowflakes and darkened houses, my beard dusted with tiny ice crystals, I feel the chill of Mother Nature urging me to return home, hoping that a bowl of hot soup is waiting for me at the table. After I remove my boots and layers of clothing, my wife asks how my walk was. I quickly kiss her cheek, my frozen beard brushing against her, and tell her it was everything I remembered. 

Mike 2025                                                  

The engineer

 It would be his last train ride on the old 98. He arrived at the station earlier than most so he could take a few moments to remember it in all its glory. The year was 1905 and the Wild West was beginning to tame. Small towns were growing, and the lawlessness of the past had become the stuff of newspapers. Gone were the shootouts on main streets, and those who tried to cause trouble were dealt with an iron fist by sheriffs who wouldn’t bend the law but instead enforced it.

The railroads had brought significant growth and wealth to enterprising men and women who left the big cities in search of adventure in the once dusty streets of a taming West. He was sixteen when he first learned to drive the old steam engine. Like his father and grandfather, both engineers, his love for the iron horse was in his blood, and he never imagined himself doing anything else.

He had seen more of the land than most would in a lifetime as he traversed cut forests and mountain tunnels carved out by workers, mostly Chinese laborers who were brought in by the railroads. Unfortunately, enslaved people was a more accurate term for their situation. 

He felt at home in the engineer's seat, rolling into stations to unload everything from furniture to building supplies. He transported soon-to-be brides of men who answered newspaper advertisements for wives, as well as people of many different races seeking a better life. In his third year as an engineer, he was stopped and robbed by masked men who had guns and weren't afraid to use them. They made off with an army payroll and a bag of jewelry from the passengers, but no one was hurt, and with shaky hands, he continued to the next stop.

Over the years, he met many people in various towns, each encounter a fond memory of his days on the rails. After thirty years, the old 98 was set to be replaced by a new breed of engines—faster and capable of pulling ten times the weight. He glanced at his pocket watch and realized it was time to board. Gathering his bag, he climbed into the engineer's seat, savoring the sights, smells, and sounds of the old 98 one last time.

"All aboard!" the conductor yelled as he waved him on. Slowly, the old 98 moved out of the station, gaining speed as more coal was shoveled into the furnace. He took it through the forests and carved tunnels one last time. Although she was still doing what he wanted, she moved a little slower than before, and that was okay with him.

At the final destination, he shut down the old 98 and waited until the steam dissipated, listening to the aches and pains of a long journey. It was rumored that the old 98 would be scrapped, but he later learned it would become part of a railroad museum, where it would rest for eternity on silent rails. He spent his remaining years as an engineer at an amusement park, guiding passengers through forests and man-made tunnels. Although it wasn’t the same as the old 98 it was a way to stay on the rails and live the life of an engineer.

Mike 2025                                                              

Sunday drives

 Soon, the colors of autumn will surround you, and nature will put on a show that is matched by few. Picture Sunday drives in the countryside, roadside pumpkin stands, and cool autumn breezes. Apples will be plentiful, and corn stalks will become decorations as kids ponder what to be for Halloween.

Imagine a place where you can stop and wander through the woods, with fallen leaves cushioning your steps and vibrant colors filling your view, while the scents of nature awaken your senses. 

Afterwards, you'll be back on the road, heading home with a jug of apple cider and a pumpkin for each child, ready to carve faces together later. Your tree-lined street, alive with brilliant hues from the giant trees, will soon be filled with laughter as children leap into piles of leaves, creating a scene like crashing into a rainbow.

Autumn is fleeting, as winter's chill will soon arrive, covering the colors beneath a blanket of snow. The leaves of autumn will rest below, gradually disappearing into the ground, leaving behind memories to relive whenever you close your eyes and visualize the wonders of those Sunday drives in the countryside. 

Mike, 2025                                               

Timeless Love

 He lay beside her just as he had done for sixty years, and each year was memorable in its own way. After returning from the nightmares of war, he courted her for a year; her understanding and kindness filled his heart with a deep love he never thought possible.

On the night of their wedding, after the guests had left, they lay together, their bodies igniting with pleasure. Sleep found them embraced, just as they would remain for decades to come.

They raised three children, and as the years passed by, they fell deeper in love. Life took their youth, but it did not diminish their passion for each other. Once again, sleep found them together.

Time softened their memories of youth, but throughout the years, their love never wavered. It grew stronger until the day God took her away in her sleep. Her last feeling was a peaceful one, wrapped in his arms.

Now, he sleeps alone on his side of the bed, reaching for her, but she is only present in his dreams and in the beautiful memories they shared for so long. When he goes to join her, he knows she will be waiting, holding up the covers for him to climb under in their eternal embrace and timeless love.

Mike 2025                                              

Brotherly love

 The cold rain slapped his face as he rode through a mountain pass, alert to every turn, his nerves shaky, but he knew no fear, only excitement. Any day now, the snow will come. It may even arrive today if the temperature drops a few degrees, as he prefers not to ride on snow-covered roads. He did that once and still remembered sliding, hoping he wouldn't wreck.

He'd been in the saddle for hours now, wanting to reach his destination before dark because darkness and slick roads could be a disaster in the making.

Finally, after six hours of riding, he pulled up to a house deep off the main road that looked empty. No lights were on as he got off his bike and slowly walked up to the front porch and knocked on the door. He cupped his eyes, looking inside, but couldn't see anything but darkness. He walked around the house and saw light coming from a shed. He opened the door to see his brother listening to hard rock music, knee-deep into a complete rebuild of his 46 Harley.

He tapped his shoulder, and his brother jumped up, ready for a fight, but seeing him, he smiled and fist bumped his baby brother. You got it he asked. Sure, " he replied, handing him the box he'd brought across the state, containing a rare 46 Harley carburetor that took months to find. That's it, brother, the last piece of the puzzle to get this old girl running again.

The bike belonged to their grandfather, who bought it brand new in 46 after returning from war. When he passed away in '66, it was left to their dad, who taught them how to ride and instilled in both of them a never-ending desire to ride. Dad passed away in '89, and the bike was covered up and tucked away in the shed, where it remained until the brothers decided to restore it to its original glory. Seeing that his baby brother did all the work, they decided to pass the bike along to him.

One week later, it was completed. Although the roads were dry, the chances of snow were now very good, so they wasted no time getting it on the road for a test run. Side by side, the two brothers rode through the mountain roads, and the old 46 was reborn. Looking good, little brother, he said. Gramps would be proud. They made it back to the shed, where a few minor adjustments were made, and the bike was covered until Spring arrived with no icy roads and frigid cold wind slapping their faces.

He kept his bike in the shed during the winter months, trading it for his '56 Chevy pickup truck, which was stored in the shed all summer until riding season arrived. He bought the truck from an old farmer who was a friend of their dad, who had passed away. The widow was left to sell his truck, but it didn't take long for him to buy it. A minor restoration was all it needed, as the farmer had taken great care of it. The paint was almost gone, but he didn't care since he planned to repaint it flat black. The engine ran, but he wanted more power, so he swapped the motor for a Chevy big block and a new four-speed transmission. With some new tires, she was ready to go.

His time was winding down, and he had to get back to work. The next day, he said goodbye to his baby brother, telling him they'd meet up come Spring to give the 46 a long road trip to someplace unknown.

Some brothers do things together, like building houses or cabins in the woods, but these brothers brought back memories of their gramps and their dad's love for motorcycles, with one foot in the grave, screaming to be reborn and hitting the roads together like rolling thunder.

Mike 2025                                                         

                         

Blind date

 He wasn't sure if she would show up. Blind dates were something he had never attempted before, and to be candid, he never wanted to. It was his sister who arranged everything, telling him that his date was named Elizabeth but preferred to be called Liz. She worked with his sister at the factory, which had once been one of the largest automobile manufacturers in the country. However, since the war, it had been repurposed to make tanks for the army.

He was a veteran of the war, having received a Purple Heart after being shot and saving the lives of four fellow soldiers. He would give anything to be back in action, but his fighting days were over. Now he sold war bonds and volunteered at the USO, doing what he could to serve.

As he waited to see if she would arrive, he sipped on a beer and reflected on memories he would soon forget. Yet, memories don’t always fade when you want them to. "David?" he heard a distant voice call. Startled, he jumped up, almost knocking over the table, causing a fork to clatter to the floor. Regaining his composure, he smiled and nodded. "Liz?" he asked.

She was beautiful, with shoulder-length hair and skin that he imagined would be as soft as a rose petal. Her green eyes sparkled like flawless rubies, and her lips were as red as cherries. At first, he was at a loss for words, but that feeling vanished as soon as they sat down and conversation began to flow with an ease he had never experienced before.

A piano man played favorite tunes, and they danced to almost every song, not caring if their food got cold or if the dim lights brightened, signaling that the restaurant would close in thirty minutes. Neither of them wanted the night to end. He offered to hail her a cab, but she preferred that he walk her home.

The night was quiet, except for the occasional passing cab and the hum of power lines, as they held hands and exchanged few words. She felt like a perfect fit, he thought, as she squeezed his hand as if she could hear his thoughts. When they reached her door, both wondered if a goodnight kiss was appropriate, considering it was their first date. Before either could answer the unspoken question, he kissed her cherry lips, and the taste and sweetness enveloped him completely.

They went on several more dates, and exactly eight months after their first, he proposed to her on bended knee in the same restaurant, at the same table, dancing to the tunes of the same piano man until the lights grew brighter.                                                                    

Mike 2025