coral pink clouds gilded in gold.
in the clear light of day
dreams fade into reality
the nugget of the dream cherished
and carried gently into each day
to work out the delicate details
unseen in the hazy morn.
“Sometimes the dreams that come true
are the ones you never even knew you had.”
~ Alice Sebold
dust motes in sun rays
warm to their floating dance.
“Dust is particles of the past. If you clean,
you’re wiping away all those good memories.”
~ Terri Guillemets
What story do I tell when
weather is rainy and grey
when cat tales sleep soundly
when travel is still at my door
when life is so very ordinary;
the shimmer beyond my eyes
is where today's story lives.
home is warm and comfortable
soaring or gentle symphony playing
or whistling to a jaunty melody……
wanting for nothing save that
all my family is safe and warm.
“A story has no beginning or end: arbitrarily one chooses that moment
or experience from which to look back or from which to look ahead.”
~ Graham Greene, The End of the Affair
Sibling Rivalry
Ben Richardson was not happy. Not happy with himself, his little sister Abby or his mother. Abby was getting all the attention and he was out in left field. He was the one who should be out talking with Samuel about guy stuff, but she had gotten all Miss Scientist about her bees! He missed his little sister that had followed him around as soon as she started to walk. Now she was turning into a girl. She didn’t need her big brother any more. Without calling, Ben rode his bike over to Jimmy’s place, a two km. ride but no big deal for him. His mother thought it was, but he was mad at her too for spending so much time with Abby. And Miss Dez! He thought that she was his friend. If she had been a guy, they would have been pals.
Arriving at Jimmy’s he saw only one car in their driveway, Jimmy’s bike leaned up against the garage. He shrugged it off. Mr. Carter probably had their pickup somewhere. He propped his bike up against the small bungalow, climbed the few steps to the porch. Knocking on the door, he heard Mrs. Carter call out “Come in, Ben I’m in the kitchen. I saw you come up the drive.” Following his nose, he was suddenly hungry. “Is Jimmy here? I saw his bike outside. I didn’t text him to tell him I was coming.” While Mrs. Carter was drying her hands on her apron, she saw Ben glancing at the rows of cinnamon buns on the counter. “Would you like one, Ben? They’ve cooled long enough now.” His desire to find out where his friend had gone, vanished. “Yes, ma’am, I sure would, please.” She set a cinnamon bun on a plate and poured a glass of milk for this polite young man. Hunched over his plate and with his mouth full, he asked about Jimmy’s whereabouts. “I’m sorry, Ben. He’s gone into Hartley with his dad. We need some bedding plants for our garden and Mr. Carter needed some help. If we’d known you were coming, they would have loved to have you along. They haven’t been gone long so won’t be back for a couple of hours.” Finishing his bun and the milk he said “That was the best thing I’ve had all day, Mrs. Carter! It’s ok that Jimmy’s not here. I’d better get going back home anyway, I didn’t tell mom where I was going.”
Mrs. Carter looked troubled. “Don’t worry, she knew I was going for a bike ride. I’ll tell her when I get home.” He had still been angry with his mom when he left and had muttered that he was going, but he didn’t tell Mrs. Carter that part. “Just tell Jimmy to text me when he gets home, and thanks for the snack. You make the best cinnamon buns!” She smiled. That was quite a complement, because Cook, at the Estate, made good cinnamon buns too. As soon as she saw him ride away, she called her friend Joanie on her home phone. No answer, but she left a message that Ben had been there and was on his way home.
~~~~~
Ben got on his bike, waved to Jimmy’s mom and was off again. He felt like he should be more upset about missing his friend, but didn’t. He noticed a rabbit scrunched down in the ditch between Carter’s orchard and the road. “What are you doing here, little guy?” At the sound of his voice, the rabbit’s ears twitched and it hopped into the orchard. Farm houses were close to each other on the island, he waved at anyone that was out working in their yards. There where times on the Estate he felt so away from anyone else until he was out riding. Like it wasn’t really where he belonged. In the distance and growing nearer, he could hear a guitar, the melody unfamiliar.
A real guitar. He liked those better than the electric ones. Humming along, he said to the birds “Maybe I should get a guitar and take lessons, be a musician. I wonder what mom and Abby would think of that.” When he was little like Abby, he had wanted to be so many things. A policeman, a fireman, a helicopter pilot but when he found out the dangerous things they would do he decided he just wanted the sirens, the big firetruck and flying. He had wanted to be Samuel, but didn’t like getting his hands in the dirt like Samuel loved. Mr. Digby, now his grandpa James, was really nice and always listened to him, but was only ever in his office. Ben didn’t like all the paper work. Too much like school. It was hard when he heard the other boys talking about their dads. His dad had gone away for work, but came home as often as he could. When the pandemic was bad he couldn’t come home anymore and hadn’t returned. His mom never talked about him anymore and when he asked she changed the subject. So grandpa James was sort of like a father, but not quite.
A horn tooted behind him, waking him from his thoughts of a missing father. He realized he had swerved to the middle of the road. He quickly got off to the side and waved as a familiar tan CRV went by. The driver slowed and pulled to the side of the road. A little thrill of fear went through Ben’s middle. Breathing a sigh of relief, it was Miss Emelina! “I wonder what she wants?” Emelina half ran to him, watching for other traffic. “Ben, where have you been?! Your mother is worried sick about you.” He didn’t understand. He told her he was going for a bike ride, maybe was a little angry when he told her. She was always busy with Abby so he didn’t think it would make a difference to her. “Come, put your bike in the truck and let’s get you home. Your poor mother is with your grandmother and Cook. Abby is with my sister. You've given us all quite a scare.” Emelina remembered a time when she and Dez were having problems and Dez ran away. They were a bit older than Abby and Ben, but it caused their parents the same upset she had seen with Joanie that day. “Are you having difficult time with Abby?” Somebody really understood! He didn’t know if he should say anything else, but he hadn’t had anyone else to talk to. “Yeah, kind of. It’s like it doesn’t matter if I’m there or not anymore.” Emelina didn’t really know how to talk to a boy, but decided to try. He seemed as upset as his mother. “I have something that’s been in a closet for a long time, waiting for me to give it to someone special.”
Ben was sceptical, some dumb old sweater that had belonged to her first husband. “I don’t know if you would like it, but it needs someone who will play it again.” Ben started listening again. “What is it? I could look at it if you want.” Emelina said a little thank you to Michael wherever he was in the heavens. “Do you play guitar?” Ben grinned. “Not yet, but I sure want to!”
~~~~~
“But I’m in the water, too, I wanted to say. And there are plenty
of eyes on you. No one’s watching to see if I stay afloat.”
~ Kawai Strong Washburn, Sharks in the Time of Saviors
The artistry of the wind
surfs clouds across
the early evening sky.
“Revelations are found in clouds.”
~ Serge King
Yesterday’s walk at the lake was invigorating. Dressed too warmly, I stepped cautiously around big muddy puddles. Walking across the path over Wascana Lake, I could hear the rush of water under great pads of snow still waiting for the sun. Today, that sun is warmer yet - almost shirt sleeve weather! Courting pairs of geese will have more open water. Sharp edges of snow will have softened and browned from winter soil.
“When snow melts, what does it become?
It becomes water, of course.
Wrong! It becomes spring!”
~ Natsuki Takaya, author
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| Blossom Time - Royal Albert china |
So many thoughts this Easter morning. Where do I start? Spinning from ordinary todays to special days of childhood,
I liked the dress up part best, a new dress, a new Easter bonnet ~ Flowing along life changes, those precious times
were washed away, held only
by the fraying strings of memory.
Now on my own, in my own place
resurrection of these things,
a slow and joyous task, brings out
the china dinner plate for my breakfast,
drifts me back to long ago Easter and special days
when we set the table, placing the silver cutlery just so,
making sure the pretty pink blossoms
on the plate had the laneway take me
to the end of the orchard. One more time, I set
a pretty china plate, but with ordinary cutlery.
“You can find something truly important in an ordinary minute.”
~ Mitch Albom
