A Canopy of Stars

She woke under a canopy of stars, each one blinking with as much surprise as she. Her hand touched the soft grass beneath her, a breeze caressed her face as it raced across the meadow. She sat up letting her eyes adjust to the dark. The moon was full and the sky clear. She was in a meadow surrounded by trees. It was as if mother nature had built a castle just for her. She heard some rustling now and then as small rabbits or frightened mice moved through the grass.

She looked down at herself and could barely make out a floral house coat. Not a robe but something more substantial. Her hair was dark in the moonlight and her hands seemed so much younger than she remembered. A noise across the meadow made her look up and a large stag broke through the treeline. He was huge and muscular. His crown of bone as long as he was tall. He was magnificent and she felt a tear roll down her cheek.
She stood up slowly. She didn’t want to spook the grand king of this wood. As she did the King moved toward her. He raced quickly from the wood to her in seconds, stopping five feet from her. She saw into his black eyes. They seemed as clear as the purest crystal. She kept still slowly reaching out her hand. To her surprise the King knelt before her and let her touch his proud nose. Her smile was a big as the swelling in her heart as she heard a soft voice somewhere far away.

In the white room the machines beeped and growled. Wires winding across the tiled floor to the single bed. Sitting on the bed was a young girl, no more than seven. She clutched onto a piece of paper that she held up to show the woman lying still beneath her.

“And see Nana. It’s so beautiful here and the King comes to say hi. He is a good King…so gentle. He will let you pat him and you won’t hurt anymore. I love you Nana.”

The girl lay back against the woman, still holding up the picture of a meadow, under stars, with the King standing proud.

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Everyone Else.

To a whisper I say hello

To a wind I say follow

To a storm I say hold

To a wall I say break

To a word I say repeat

To a child I say live

To the old I say give

To a friend I give love

To an enemy I give a hug

To the lost I give the way

To the night I give the day

To myself I say…

To myself I give…

nothing.

Mommy.

Your hand was strength,
Your smile my sun,
Your night-time stories,
Made imagination fun.

Your positive view,
Making all just right,
Your arms around me,
Making the dark so light.

You chased away monsters,
You made bully’s tears go,
You were my defender,
and let your love show.

When I was older,
You still stood beside,
Even when I was lost,
With you I could never hide.

Now you and I are older,
And I have children of my own,
You are always my mommy,
Thank you for what you have shown.

Happy Mommy’s Day.

xxoo

Middle Aged Meandering. :)

You are me, not literally, but I think you share some traits. We are all individuals with dreams and hopes. We live for a short time on this little ball and then we move on. I have reached that middle ground, where what I was in youth has become an older man.

I have regrets. I think most of us do. We look back at what we thought our life would be and see very little in what life has become. I look at my parents and see the same thing written on their faces, see the same smiles at accepting the inevitability of living. Life gets in the way of dreams.

I have impacted very little in my life. I have dreamed more than most. I have walked down a path and imagined more than just an asphalt trail. I dreamed of writing a novel, dreamed of  saving a life, dreamed of miracles and seen none of them arrive. I get up, I waste time, I work and then start again. There are laughs and some smiles, but always a what if…

This is what makes us who we are. The what ifs and the what could have beens. It’s a reflection of a universe that never came into being, not for me. I have so many failures and few celebrations, yet I continue with being human.

I suppose I am in a new phase, one that takes hold of us all at some age. I have three beautiful children, gifts that make up for so many failures. I have someone who cares for me, loves me and that brings me a smile. To look back is to try to put together the puzzle of ones own life. I have never been very good with puzzles, I lose pieces.

So I will say to you who read these few lines. Life is what it is…it gets in the way, but also lets us dream. In dreams we escape the doldrums and for a few the dreams do become reality. I hope, that as I travel the back-end of this journey I see some dreams come true.

Memory Lane.

In the quiet of his room, he wondered and wandered. Through a life of hardships and a few smiles here and there. He walked the road of his life. From the child neglected and forgot, to the adult who loved and lost. Between the two was experience.

He remembered his first kiss, soft and quick, stolen from a girl with blond hair. What was her name? He wished he could recall. He remembered his first fight, a boy not liking how he dressed. What was his name? He wished he could remember. He remembered his first love, and how he lost her. He remembered the bad things done to him, the religion thrust upon him, the beatings, the pain.

He let himself go through it all again, looking desperately for the smiles. He remembered her face, he remembered them all. He remembered falling for his wife and the times they shared. He remembered how love was, even if it left. He saw his first child, his second, his third, and smiled with hope. The images of his children, the love without reason, but such warmth. He remembered when his wife left and when his children became busy. The smiles faded and he kept wondering.

He remembered the first cut. He remembered when he walked into the frozen lake. He remembered when all was lost and never found. He remembered never being good enough, never feeling needed or wanted.

He remembered so much in the dark. He let himself cry, great sobs of self-pity. He felt the pain in his chest and the hurt deep in his heart. He called out to the man lost, but couldn’t remember his name, in the quiet of his room.

One Tear.

In one tear,

A lifetime of hope,

of love,

and loss…

In one tear,

A history of me,

A life,.

Perhaps a bit more…

In one tear,

A road of what ifs,

What could have beens,

What is and the failing of what was.

In one tear,

A child is born,

A happiness is shared,

A heart is broken,

A story started,

And ended,

In one tear,

Shed for you.

 

 

Back of the Line.

Hey!

You sitting over there,

With your pressed suit,

and crisp white tie…

Who are you?

You look at me!

You judge me!

Because of my old shoes,

And wrinkled grey pants,

My frayed tie,

My off white shirt,

You think you know me,

You judge me,

Fuck you!

And your crisp white tie!

And your shiny black shoes,

and your perfect hair…

Yeah I don’t have hair…

I have experience,

and children,

I have lived, loved, laughed, cried…

and then I died…poorly…

…and you judge me?

 

You want me,

I’ll be at the back of the line…

Fucking angels.