Canopy of Green

The bells went off, the whistles sounded, clang, clang, wheee, whoee, woop, woop, woop. JACKPOT......JACKPOT.......JACKPOT. ONE MILLION DOLLARS. ONE MILLION BEAUTIFUL GREEN DOLLARS. She hit the jackpot. A canopy of green to protect her for the rest of her life. No more worries, no more cares .. The celebration was set. the family, the friends, everyone she knew and worked with would be there. The big night arrived. She was on her way. It was only 2 miles from her home to the celebration site. She never arrived. Her car was cut in half by a drunk driver. She died instantly. She's is buried under a canopy of green....sod.

Getting Old

You know you are getting old when You would rather look at a blue sky than a pretty girl. You look at the constant daily pain as God's way of letting you know your still alive. You are never wrong because you cannot remember what you did. Your wife keeps saying "don't you remember?" Your wife keeps saying "did you hear me? You cannot remember anyone's name. Did I post this blog last week?

Happy Mother's Day to Me

Come stroke my ego, that makes me Happy As an infant writer, I crawl around the world of blogging mumbling my words in a goo-goo and gaw-gaw kind of way. I try to stand and I trip and fall, splitting my infinitives on the coffee table and bruising my rhetoric on the hard cold floor. With my infinitives bleeding and my rhetoric all bruised and sore, I attempt to present myself as a blogger and sometimes fall flat on my butt. With my infant blogger status in mind, I ask the bloggers of "TAT" and the bloggers of"Sunday Scribblings" to forgive me for not acknowledging their comments about my blogs. I somehow had your comments sent to the nether-nether world of blogging and did not realize you were leaving me kind and positive comments. I was saying to my self, "self,. why are they not commenting on your blog? I must really be bad to be totally ignored." But, today while trying to upgrade my blog site I ran into all of these wonderful comments. All of these great words came rushing at me, engulfing me with delight and happiness. I was not being rejected. It was my own stupidity. Thanks to all of you that read my blogs and then took the time to say kind words. If I were a woman, I would say "Happy Mother's Day" to me.

Silence

HE He sat alone on the cold wet planks at the end of the pier. His legs were dangling over the edge and his bare feet almost touched the water but not quite. He wanted to feel the cold water with his feet but he did not want jump in. Well maybe he would jump or maybe he wouldn't. He really wasn't sure what he wanted to do. The silence was eerie. The water did not move and it seemed as if the fog was a blanket someone had just taken out of the freezer and wrappd around him. At first it shocked him but the coffee helped. He was holding the cup between his legs and using it to warm his hands. As he looked at the water it seemed to call him. It was hypnotizing him, daring him to join the silent water and he was ready to take the dare. Why not. No one would care, especially not her. She had left no doubt about that. He could still hear her. "I'm sorry, I'm leaving, I have too". He could still see her face. She was young and beautiful. There were tears in her brown eyes and on her freckled cheeks. Her long auburn hair was beautiful even in her sadness. He could see her standing on the water just out of his reach. He thought he could see her, drifting above the water. He thought he could hear her saying, "I'm sorry. I was wrong, I love you, please come home". He felt her beauty drifting in the silent fog. He could see her tears falling into the silent water. He wanted her to be there but she wasn't. A fog horn echoed a low sounding wail from across the bay and nudged him back to reality. The silence of the night had been broken. The silence of the water interrupted and the cold silent fog seemed to disappear. He shivered. No he thought, I will not give in. I will go back. I will find her. I will fight to win her back. He rose and walked silently through the lifting fog with a silent prayer in his heart.

Silence of Night

She stood motionless, a hot cup of coffee nestled between her hands. She was thinking about him. He had left her without an explanation. He had given her no warning. He just never came back. She had given him everyting, her mind, her love her body. He took what she gave and then left. She was heartbroken. She did not want to go on. She couldn't go on. She was too embarassed. He had left her alone, penniless and pregnant. She could not return home. Her father would not allow her to embarrass them. He was the preacher. He would lose face. The town would look down on him, talk about him, make jokes about him. No she would not shame him with a pregnant, unwed daughter. She was drenched in silence. The fog, the pier, the water were all silent. The silence captured the mood but she did not mind. In fact she preferred the silence. The silence created a proper stetting for what was ahead. Her heart and mind could not go on. One last sip of coffee, one last swallow and the silence was even greater. Now her heart, her mind, her soul and her babies heartbeat joined the silence of the fog, the silence of the pier, the silence of the water and the silence of the night. They were one in death. They were one in silence.