Night Ideas

Night fell
Silently
Swiftly
Hushed and calm
Carved only by a crescent moon

“Night is a world lit by itself”

~ Antonio Porchia

Office Romance

Office Romance

Jule's watch did not tell time any more but it had been a gift from his father when he was ten. ‘Ten is old enough for a young man to wear a watch.’ His father made this pronouncement the morning of his birthday, put the watch on his ten year old wrist, set it to the right time. Then he went to work. People didn’t wear watches much any more. Those exercise computer things that did tell the time but did everything else. Jules didn’t even wear the watch.  He had long grown proper sized man wrists. He kept the watch in the wooden box by his bedside. Polishing the wood every week until the grain shone. He hadn’t seen his father again. Although he had been told that his father had a heart attack at work, although he’d been to the funeral and been hugged and kissed by the aunts, although his mother stopped setting a place at the table for him and she cried every day for months, Jules never stopped believing his father would come home again. After a while, polishing the box and checking the watch to see if it would begin to tick again was a ritual that was just part of getting up and going to work each day. If one day he forgot before he ran out the door, as soon as he came home he would go to his bedroom and complete his belated ritual.

Tonight, he decided was the night he would put his gold watch in his oaken box away. He would not forget it, but a new charm had come into his life. She was tall, quite lovely and eloquent. Jules was anxious to show off his study and had invited her in for the evening. They had only been out once before, but had known each other from work. The office had been abuzz that they were ‘love birds’. Jules and Cassandra just ignored them all and carried on their work. They passed notes to each other when one would pass the other’s desk. The one evening they did go out was after a late night at the office. Most people had gone home. Only the janitor was there, the hum of his floor cleaner the only sound but for their voices as they finished up a big project.  

‘Are you hungry?’ Jules was hesitant to ask but because he had no audience of workers he took a chance. A silent reprimand to himself to stop being so shy chased his hesitancy away.

‘I’m famished! But the only thing open is the pizza place down the block. I have heard that they have lovely wood fire pizza. And a glass of wine is available. Not too bad wine either.’  

Their long work hours slipped gently away as soon as the aroma of delicious pizza welcomed them into the cozy little restaurant. Romantic ideas were never far from Jules mind. He would have been surprised to know that Cassandra was entertaining romantic ideas of her own. The door chime brought him out of his reverie. He checked his tie in the hall mirror quickly before opening the front door. Cassandra was gorgeous. So different from the office. So …….

‘Please. Come in, Cassandra. I have a fire on in the study and hot chocolate for this cool evening. I’m so glad you could come.’

“The very essence of romance is uncertainty.”

~ Oscar Wilde, “The Importance of Being Earnest and Other Plays

Giving a Gift

Giving a Gift

“You want coffee, honey?” Josephine called up the stairs to her husband. Ordinarily, Howard was up much earlier, but it was Sunday. Howard’s day to sleep in. Sleeping in meant 6:30 am. When the tractor had it’s day of rest as well.

Josephine and Howard had quite a day planned. The kids had been packed off to the neighbours farm a couple of miles away. Tod and Janey had their own basket of food to take with them so they wouldn’t go to the Westerman’s emptyhanded. Howard and Josephine had their own cooler for a midmorning snack and then a picnic later in the afternoon. In between there would be hiking, swimming and just laying in the sun on the beach. Childhood for both of them had been growing up on hard scrabble farms. Picnics were few and very far between, often limited to the one big Community Picnic that was held each year at harvest time. While Howard was out in the field he thought long and hard about this special time coming up. They had never had a honeymoon. He had been planning a few changes to their little ‘day trip’. Josephine worked  all day keeping all the kid's schedules straight and running their busy farm household. They never kept secret’s from each other until now. What he hadn’t told Josephine, was that it would not just be a day trip, but a two night stay at the Chantilly Lace Bed ‘n’ Breakfast. They had often seen it advertised in the newspaper. Josephine had mused more than once about the remote idea of ever being able to be so luxurious.

Howard made a quick trip to talk with Ned and Nadine Westerman. Of course, Tod and and Janey could stay from Saturday night through Monday night. They’d be sure to get them to school Monday and Tuesday with their two kids. Tod and Janey also had to be taken into the plans. They had to pack their back packs for the overnight’s. When Josephine asked them why they needed back packs just for a day trip, they assured her that they needed their iPads and some books. ‘Oh alright. Just be sure you lay out your school clothes for the morning so I don’t have to worry about that on Monday morning.’ The kids moaned and groaned appropriately, but said they would, then turned away quickly so Josephine wouldn't see their grins.

Howard came down the stairs like a teenager. ‘Hmmmm. I would love a cup of coffee.’ He put his arms around his wife and nuzzled her neck.  

‘Come on, Howard, we have to have breakfast and get moving. We have a whole day ahead of us.’ 

‘OK, OK but I do promise you a very surprising treat today.’

Their old blue car had been packed the night before with an extra overnight bag that Josephine knew nothing about. Howard grinned all the way to Henway Provincial Park. Josephine sat next to her handsome husband all the way. They both felt the weight of work fall away into the dust of the road they were travelling.

“The excellence of a gift lies in its appropriateness rather than in its value.”

~ Charles Dudley Warner

Monochrome Feelings ~ A Story

The colour of sea and sky are a picture in monochrome. Only the billowing softness of the clouds differ from harsh, choppy waves. All is greyness and heavy damp. Ship’s flag hangs limply. Wilted against the flag pole, too sodden to flap in the brisk wind, it’s colors wrapped around the pole trying uselessly to avoid the rain. Morning had come too early and in the dark wet there had been little light until now. Stewards with steaming coffee stayed just inside doling out satin dark warmth. I’ve stepped outside not caring about the weather. Standing alone on the prow of the ship, I am separate from late breakfast chatter and clatter. There is a space ~ a void ~ in my heart as grey, troubled and dark as this day. I know I can step into the warmth and camaraderie of fellow travellers but cling to my loneliness as to a life raft. I do not want to hear all of their ideas and plans. The rain will soon end the captain reports. But will my tears. I have left a life behind with no return until this pain is eased in my heart. The pain will never truly be gone but will no longer flood my soul as the heavy rain and vast ocean flood around me. There is a loneliness that heals.

“Remember: the time you feel lonely is the time 

you most need to be by yourself. Life’s cruelest irony.”

~ Douglas Coupland, Shampoo Planet

The Incredible Bridge

The Incredible Bridge

A much sturdier bridge than the Incredible Bridge!

From this end of the bridge, it didn’t look so incredible. There was an ominous toll booth guarded by helmeted gargoyles. The closer Sam and Oliver came up to it, the more ominous it seemed. The gargoyles grumbled and growled to each other, shaking their spears and scraping the ground with their long toenails.

“Why are we going to that bridge?  Isn’t there a better one?” Sam was shrinking back into the dark forest filled with enchanted magic.

“This bridge is closest! And there’s only two gargoyles at this one. These two are puny compared to the other ones. Trust me - I’ve checked them all out.” Oliver pulled Sam forward.

Sam sputtered. “It’s only a rope bridge! Look at the chasm below! I can’t see the water but I can hear it crashing against the rocks.” 

“Look” Oliver sighed. “This was your idea and I just happened to agree with you. Have you ever been on one of these bridges before? No. I didn’t think so. I have. More times than I can count. But I’ve never made it across because I was trying to do it by myself.”

“Why have you kept trying?” Sam looked very puzzled. He had heard all the stories and had never dared ask why until now. If he was going to cross this so-called Incredible Bridge, he wanted some information.

Oliver leaned against an old burned tree stump and closed his eyes. Then, as one tear slid silently down his face he said “I have family on the other side that I just can’t let go of. No, I don’t want to let go of. I have torn up my life. I have wrecked many relationships. My children need me. Yes I have children and yes I love them with all my heart. But do they really love me? I’m so confused but I need to try again. I know I can go part way - and each time I’ve gone on the bridge I’ve gone a little farther. Maybe I can make it all the way this time. If you’re with me.”

Sam had nothing to say. He had no pre-conceived ideas about what he would find on the other side or even if he wanted to stay. The other side was a world he had let go of to set off adventuring in the Dark Forest they had just left behind. They had only the clothes on their backs, a loaf of old dry bread and a flask of water between them. They left all of the dark magic behind. The gargoyles would take their bread and water as a toll or make them make dark magic with them. This was a heavy toll either way. Oliver was determined to set foot on the bridge once more. Until Sam had suggested it, he had decided that he was stay in the Dark Forest forever. Sam was his only friend. 
Rather than be lost and alone, he decided to try again.

Taking deep breaths and pasting smiles on their faces, they approached the toll booth, determined to refuse any offers of magic play. After letting go of their bread, water - and Sam’s ragged coat - they stepped through the toll booth on to the Incredible Bridge. It swayed with the weight of their steps. The gargoyles giggled wickedly certain they would come racing back to the solid cliff. But Sam and Oliver kept moving forward. One step at a time. The Incredible Bridge held surprises. Along their slow trek, they met others who had crossed the bridge and came back to help others forward and to show them where the weak places were on their journey. To remind them of the strength that they had found to travel on this frighteningly Incredible Bridge. And to hold their hand when fear was ready to overpower them. The bridge itself was really not that incredible.

“But we are strong, each in our purpose, 

and we are all more strong together.”

~ Bram Stoker, Dracula

History in the Cellar

History in the Cellar

The cellar was dark, dank and smelled of old spider webs and mould. There was a light. One bare lightbulb hung from one corner of the raftered ceiling. Octavia felt every bit of her age. The basement stairs seemed to get longer and more rickety each day. Octavia did not want to descend into the old dirt cellar even though she had good memories playing there as a young child amid the fruit jars and behind the potato bin. There were still things stored down there that were probably all mildewed and wrinkled with the damp. 

But she had to find it. She knew which corner it was in and remembered how, seventy years before on her tenth birthday where she had hidden it. It was almost time to pass it on to the next generation as it had been passed to her on that special birthday. To anyone else it would have meant nothing but in her family it was as precious as any diamond.

Her neighbour of the last many decades, Mrs. Agnes Appleby - such a stuck up name - had gotten tired of hearing about this piece of family history with no name and no form. Agnes had dared Miss Octavia Watterson to produce it and prove it’s existence. Today, Octavia decided, was the day she would prove to Agnes that it was real. But, half way down the stairs, Octavia hesitated. What if it wasn’t very precious at all? What if her ten year old mind had made it bigger than it really was? And why hadn’t she gotten it out before?

Taking a deep breath, Octavia took another step down the stairs. She fingered the key she had hung around her neck. The little silver key that would open the box where her treasure lay. Determined to challenge her ten year old self - and Agnes - Octavia stood on a low stool to reach back into the far corner of the old cupboard and pulled out a small metal box. Removing the key from around her neck she inserted it into the lock. The lock popped open as though expecting that today was the right day. And there it lay. A ordinary sized envelope  yellowed with age labelled Watterson Family History. The glue dried on the seal so the flap opened easily. Octavia took out two sheafs of paper. In a spidery hand it read, ‘To whomever reads this recipe know that it  holds family history.’ Octavia was sick with disappointment.  A recipe!  What would Agnes think of this!  But no, Octavia would show her, despite any ridicule that might come her way

Up in the kitchen, with a cup of tea she continued to read.  ‘Peppered Venison Sausage is the title my great-great grandfather gave to this recipe. Each generation that has made it has had different ingredients and spices. The ingredients are incidental to this recipe. What is important is that making this requires a hunt for ingredients, preparing the ingredients, cooking the finished product and sitting down to a family meal to enjoy it all.'

Octavia had regrets and knew why she had not gotten the precious recipe out before? The love of her life had left her before they married. She had never been brave enough to share this kitchen tradition with anyone else. Octavia smiled when she remembered that Agnes would be pleased with this treasure. Agnes and Octavia had helped to grind the meat and mix in the spices when they were children. In the kitchen with family all around. Agnes would, however, be certain to be disparaging about the vegetarians of the world that 'would miss out'. And then Octavia would say that although their gathering of ingredients would be different, they would still share in wonderful kitchen family times. Each family has their own ideas.

“A personal journey is part of the generational relay. 

Live your legacy then pass it on.”

~ Jo Ann V. Glim 

(author of Begotten with Love: Every Family Has Its Story)