dreams surround a homesteading such as this, no amount of work could persuade them to leave. his heart was given so long ago, and the farm has held on ever since.
the birds sang quite rightly the day she pulled in, the tire was giving her fits. when he took his cap off and extended his hand, his eyes caused hers to lift, amused by the pink shade of shy she wore with her smile, he let off on his farmer’s tight grip.
hard became harder as sunsets created do-overs, and laughter filled the crisp winter air. facts remained, but pleasure pursued as two strangers became one another, encouraging life to come tumbling after.
glows does the moon beyond the branches, which held verdant prisms of summertime, rich with thoughts of what could be come daylight.
a star just to the north points towards a path I’m unsure of but regrettably stare into, the cold air touches the tears I shed for the prayers I’ve said, nothing makes sense as the fairytale ends.
night, oh night, you shout at me so, what shall come of my young soul; trapped in a body at the peak of her age clouds bustle by, such hurry I ponder what awaits just past the horizon of a foolish wish, held back by this garden gate.
explosive tones embrace our evening sky – breathless twilight reaching out, “wait for me, just one more thought!” a vision of desperation but far too beautiful for anyone to say no, thank you.
I miss the days of lost in cerulean and clouds, even though searching for you came with a cost, my mind ardently invented you as I lie on the ground.
moments screamed past me then, and there’s no getting them back, yet I feel fulfilled when memories rush in, blessed, some would say to forget what I lacked.
a path was forged, one I so desperately needed, the voice inside me tasted like screaming – to most it wouldn’t make sense but free, my friend, isn’t always freedom.
Today is going to be a hard day. We’re grateful to be together and we want to thank you for being here with us.
When dad asked if any of us wanted to speak my siblings looked at me, knowing I might just agree if they encouraged me enough. Earlier this week I decided I’d better get my thoughts down in preparation for a service but they didn’t arrive. Last night at 10:30 my words finally found me.
Grandpa had a son who arrived every morning for coffee – a confidant – a daughter who knew the best time to call for a long chat, – best of friends – and a son who made the best pancakes he’d ever had – a companion.
Do I talk about harvest, a good coupon for the grocery store or hearty breakfast food? None. These three knew their father. But did we…
All I could think of when I heard the news was how well Grandpa massaged Grandma’s feet with peppermint lotion every night in the living room. I think that sticks with me even today as a beautiful reminder of how precious love is but I knew there was more of the man I wanted to share today.
I guess you could say we were the first four of his eight grandchildren. The Nebraskans – first ones to test his nerves, to make him chuckle – in a way only grandpa’s do – and the first to ruin much of what he probably told us to stay away from. We were the first four to eat all of his M&Ms – even the ones hidden in the basement fruit room.
The next group of four grandchildren should thank us for helping Grandpa relax. Did he knock on the table harder or softer while playing cards with you guys? A man of few words and even less patience for shenanigans during card playing. Fairly certain it was a softer knock paired with a twinkle in his eye.
His two Kansas Girls, just down the street and his two Colorado Boys, who loved fishing just as much as he did – you four were his pride and joy.
We know for certain, as a retired Grandpa, he loved watching you grow up. His perfected Grandpa chuckle was all thanks to you and his opportunity to finally be there for his loved ones activities.
We feel pretty confident Grandpa Willard taught us all how to work hard. If there was daylight then there was time to weed the garden, move a water hose or tend to a flower bed. Grandpa ran the elevator and not a soul worried about how it was done. Grandpa always knew how to do things the right way.
Grandpa taught us to enjoy the thrill of the ride. A master at the wheel, he often took time to drive us for pizza. Pooches seemed to be his happy place. I can remember the pep in his step when it was time for a good slice of pizza or the largest ice cream cone you’d ever see. When we were kids, whether it was a trip for pizza, ice cream or supper in Denver, Grandpa always delivered.
Mostly, we remember how serious Grandpa Willard took his family responsibility. Not a one of us ever felt neglect or concern for our safety with Grandpa near. He loved his family. The joy across his face was something we all vetted for. Making Grandpa proud was quite an accomplishment. His expectations were to do our best, don’t back down and remember to take care in what we were put in charge of.
Grandpa Willard was proud of us all. The hand tap, the adoring eye contact and the tight hugs proved it. We watched him love his children, Grandma, and Dorothy this way. His love meant the world to all of us. There wasn’t much he missed or forgot. It may have looked like we weren’t listening, Grandpa, but we were – I promise.
Grandpa, when we got to your house yesterday you weren’t sitting in your kitchen chair waiting for us to pull in to the driveway, or looking for the prettiest finches in the backyard. You weren’t in your chair in the living room either. Its gonna take some time to get used to our new view.
We’ll do what we can to continue your legacy of hard work, a little fun and a lot of love for your great-grandchildren. We love you.
Two years ago I was approached by a publishing company and asked if I would be interested in submitting a short story for an anthology being created by Z Publishing House.
I submitted a story I had shared many years ago and it was accepted.
The head space I was in at the time didn’t allow for traditional excitement over the process, nor did it increase my personal productivity for having been asked.
When the anthology shipped to my house, instead of authentic joy over my name being included with other writers, I chose to pretend the publishing didn’t happen and hid my face.
I didn’t and don’t receive compensation for having been included, however, this process started something else entirely.
my emotions, ever present; continue, some linger creating a smile others invite weakness, which in time fades, as I press further into the day. the hope is still there, the daydreaming; visions of what could be, dancing before me. Although out of reach, there’s knowledge love belongs to many, and I’m grateful to have witnessed.
Driving the farthest eastern reaches of the Sandhills as this scene beckoned. Was it the water, sunset or hills calling names? The topography, a sensuous mastermind, plays within thoughts while memories flood the present.
How dare it.
Just as beauty sets in, and atop the already gorgeous scene, to share this – would have been the only cherished wish left to whisper. A hand held. Hard kiss, even tug of the hair and a reminding of the natural, even recommended design for an alliance.
Useless comes to mind, but doesn’t it always? Untrustworthy. Less than. Nothing deemed attractive found near not even near, by not just one, but from many.
Wicked is fate as she tosses over another just out of reach, if only the physical qualities found irresistible and encouraged were obtainable by another’s remnants. Would life continue to offer beauty with hopes someone might see?
contagious; the hum created faster rubber, faster goosebumps sideways smile, slight dimple upon me the possibilities await and the doves coo’d this morning
I kept forcing nature; give me what I want like a bully, I pushed forced my way in. Now I live, in a cyclone of decisions a Ms. is required to make but without leadership, I’ll be doomed anyway.
this morning’s noises echo facts of summertime dwindling. a crow’s call to advance spur last night’s crickets, still rubbing within the window well. my heart swells with hope which confuses me, and the neighbor lady sweeps her deck.
you would know I’ve sat within the thrush of nature my soul is joyous there. this cool fall evening offers a melody and my mind plunges into creative fidgeting. my eyes wander from hues of verdant to hints of Autumn’s tangerine, but it’s the obvious sounds of industry that bring you closer to me.
Oldest Daughter & Red Headed Sister 