The lake patiently awaits the angler, While she sets her shores in harmony with the music of the trees. With his sturdy craft nestled in her sun-dappled bosom,
When I look into the soft brown eyes of my Shepherd/lab/husky cross, the Beetles song plays. “Money can’t buy me love. Love. Money can’t buy me love.” Insert needle screeching across the record here. Well, Paul and John, you were grossly mistaken, because as I look into the velvety warmth of her adoring gaze, it would seem I did just that. I bought me a 75-pound bundle of fuzzy love.
ZEN AND NOW
Almost exactly twenty-seven years ago, I packed my bags and headed for India. I would be staying in a spiritual center in Northern India for one month. At the time of my departure I had been an initiate of this philosophy for three years. I had become a vegetarian and practiced a daily meditation of 2 ½ hours each day. I attended a weekly reading of the discourses and tried each day to be a better person and good example of the philosophy. From the period of seeking to the serendipitous moment that I came across this path, nothing had prepared me for the fundamental change that would take place inside me once I was in India, and listening with a closed mouth and an open heart to the teachings of my Master.
The first time I saw my teenage daughter’s art, I was in awe. A very private and reserved young woman, she kept her art her little secret for many years. I bought her supplies for Christmas and birthdays, and she would often sit in her favorite chair and just quietly sketch away. It wasn’t until I saw her art that I began to understand.
The fire crackled loudly in the muffled silence of the great room, and I basked in the luxurious glow as my incessant thoughts pulled me to the rainy night so many moons ago. The fire faded into the distance as the memory of my mother came to the forefront.
- Third Place in Dream Date Challenge
Injuries Consistent With a Fall
Kat took a final look in her compact mirror. For 58 she was holding her own, and she knew it. Forty years of running, self-defense classes, Judo and good nutrition had kept her petite frame, fit. He was running a bit late, but she remained confident, and focused. She took another sip of her Merlot, Mohave Rain, and held it on her tongue to feel the velvety warmth spread through her, enjoying the chocolatey finish. That was what prompted her to choose this restaurant—the selections of wine. She couldn’t care less if Cole Bannerman liked it. The occasional glass of Merlot was her one treat, and she always felt it outrageously decadent and enchanting.
The Captain's Book
Lauren watched Kathy’s shoulders grow more rigid as she stared out the window above the kitchen sink. Finally she turned back to the others, her thin, red lips turned down in distaste, her red, acrylic nails tapping ceaselessly against the porcelain mug in her hand. “Something needs to be done. For two bits I’d go out there and settle this myself,” she barked.
Side by Side
I stood alone in the rain and fog and watched couples walking on the seawall while I awaited his arrival. A voyeur, of sorts. Longing for something, but not understanding what. Some of the watched held hands, others walked arm in arm. They talked. A few smiled. Always close enough that the other could hear their softly spoken words. I stared in quiet, painful confusion, emotions curling like a serpent in my gut. The seaplane now landing, drew my attention from the happy walkers, and in a few moments I watched them make their way up the dock. My attention riveted by the normalcy of it. My eyes followed their progress as they walked side by side to the pickup area. I was paralyzed—literally unable to move as several decades of memories suddenly flooded in rooting me to my spot in the downpour and washing away all current sensation and taking reality along with it.