I was gonna write something angry today, seeing as to how I’m still pissed at the Shenandoah Valley Teen Challenge people, whom I helped and worked with, before I got got sick two years ago, after which they stopped talking to me. Seems that I violated God’s rules of payment. So, instead, I thought I’d write something strangely nice. Continue reading Two Years after Long-Care Help
I’m not a text person or a tweet person, having never really done either before. Today, I got to spend some quality time with my buddy Michael. Just like his Dad and myself as teens, we had gone months without communicating, but then side by side, we spoke to each other like it was just yesterday. It felt good.
Buried on a shelf, behind the door of an unused closet, lies an old beat-up jewelry box.
The box itself was very unassuming. A faded pale blue with a simple gold embroidery, the cushy feel of padding like those mass-produced in the 60’s and 70’s. But with a lift of the unlatched lid, a thousand thoughts and emotions poured out of the jewelry box, causing his head to spin and his heart to flutter.
The jewelry box was crammed full of letters written by his first love, handwritten memories on crinkled paper, some still nestled in their original envelopes. What started as ‘Puppy Love’ had developed over time, as did the length and complexity of the letters themselves.
If the pile of letters, now shuffled like a huge deck of cards, were laid out from the very first kiss until the present day, they would tell the wonderful tale of a young love blossoming into maturity, the pains of separating after adulthood, and a final chapter that would never end, instead a friendship that would last forever.
There’s something warm and comforting, so personal, in holding a piece of paper on which is written the thoughts and feelings of someone who means so much to you, and whose style of script you’ll never forget. It’s like having that person sitting beside you, though they’re not apart of your life or maybe never will be again, but they’ll never be gone forever.
Behind the creation of each letter, she had searched for an ink pen and a piece of paper, and had spilled-out her emotions with wet ink on a plain piece of paper.
Holding each handwritten letter with his own hands, reading each and every word she had written, he could clearly hear her voice.
And the jewelry box was placed back upon on the shelf.
She was surprised by the offer, a quick detour to the river on the way home from a doctor’s appointment. She hadn’t been riverside in years, long before the macular degeneration had mostly taken her sight and her ability to travel on her own.
They slowly walked arm in arm to the boat ramp, where during the lively days of summer, the canoeists would launch and the fisherman would wade off into the waters. But the seasons were changing and it was becoming cold.
Her limited vision and her big imagination allowed her to see across the waters and into its depths. There were dark areas and an obvious shallow section and the image of a large rock submerged not twenty feet away.
“Bring me a handful of water, I want to feel it” as she swayed unsteadily on the ramp’s uneven surface.
“Oh my, it’s kind of cold. But not too bad. It feels nice”
Yes, it does.
Twenty years ago, my baby sister was diagnosed with breast cancer. Anxiety amongst our circle of family and friends was at an all-new high as we waited daily for news of the latest test results and a positive prognosis. Continue reading When Life Gives You a Big Lemon…
I was working in Aunt B’s basement yesterday, and she followed me down the stairs and began rummaging through some boxes, looking at old pictures. The more that I looked, the more that I was amazed. Continue reading Aunt B’s Pictures
Back before the days of OSHA, on a 32-foot extension ladder far, far away, a young man took his first steps up the ladder for a short career as a house painter.
I was in-between jobs, to the point of being desperate for gas money. Not Mad Max desperate, but pretty close. A friend told me of a friend who had his own little painting business and that he was looking for some temporary help during the summertime. Continue reading House Painter for Hire