Not drowning, waving

Wanted to check in and just let you know I’m alive and well.
I thank all of you for continuing to visit.
I’m trying hard to make my way around the bloghorn but somedays are just hell.
Once things settle down a bit, I will be back.
I have so much writing in my journal just screaming to be posted but . . .
Be safe and be well, folks.
See all of you in a bit.

~m

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for a friend

If there was a star in the sky
I’d wish upon it
better days for you . . .
But sometimes it feels the stars
are all taken, leaving the sky dark and godforsaken; a desperate space

this self-imposed penance is just that
as is the self-denial of a solace richly deserved

the light of the soul never dies
but occasionally flickers;
a sign that things do change
black to white, night to day

there’s a star in the sky
and I’m wishing on it
better days for you . . .

if you’re left wondering about the star
i put it there
just remember I may need you to find me one someday . . .
I wish you faith, love and a belief that life goes on
because it does.

M

Juggling

Currently in the midst of a juggling act between work and writing.
Posts may be a bit scarce over the next few weeks but then again who knows?
I’m keeping the details close to the vest for now as far as why I’m busy.
Know that it’s all good.
I’ll continue visiting my favorite blogs but posting will be less.
Don’t be upset.
btw . . .
Got a very nice linkback tonight.
Thanks, DF, much appreciated.
If a post of mine can make someone write one, how cool is that?

All for now folks.
The writer in me has now left the building . . . kinda like Elvis.
For now . . . uh-huh . . .

~m

the Boy

Guinness, my male Bengal, has told me no more posts until I visit some people on my blogroll.
He says I should be more of a giver.
That’s the way he rolls, I guess. (right now he wants me to give him a treat)
Yeah, he is one hep cat.
Have a serene weekend, folks.
See all of you on Monday.
Got a good one on the backburner.
Stop back.

~m

Mongrain

I’ve been out straight with all sorts of things lately but I saw this video and had to post it.
As a musician, I am in awe of this guy.
Not sure if he came before ‘August Rush’ or if he was the actual inspiration for it.
Judging from the movie clips I’ve seen, the August Rush kid smiles way too much for my comfort.
Kinda freaky and ala the Shining, so very unlike Mongrain.
Check it out.
Crazy.
This is some tres cool shit.
Off to bed, folks.

~m

Walking Distance

When I was 9 years old I had a favorite paperback book called “Stories from the Twilight Zone”, a book of short stories based on the skin and bones for sketches produced on the TV program of the same name.
I had a favorite called “Walking Distance”, the story of a tired middle aged business man that leaves the big city one weekend and simply drives in an effort to get away from his job and the Rat Race in general.
His car breaks down and he gets towed to a local garage for repairs when he sees a road sign for the town he grew up in years ago.
He asks how far it is to the town and is told, “It’s walking distance.”
He enters the Twilight Zone and walks into his hometown of 40 years ago where his mother and father are still alive.

It’s funny that I was falling for these kinds of tender stories when I was ten.
Yeah, I was a weird kid, huh?
Much of my writing loosely falls into the same sentimental category. Go figure.
I started thinking about the last good day I had with my mother and father, sadly the memory has vanished deep into the recesses of my own scattered mind.
The ‘moment’ did happen though when I came to a realization that I could never get those moments back; accepting the idea was painfully difficult but I knew it had to be done.
It occurred to me that I began saying goodbye to the individual pieces of both of them, various facets of their personalities, phrases they often used and the stories they loved to tell.

I remember fruitlessly trying to pull my mother back into my world with my “remember when” queries that all too quickly lost their magical powers.
If I’ve learned anything at all from their tragic situation it’s that life is about seizing moments, grabbing them by whatever means possible and never ever letting them go.
I only wish I’d realized that fifteen years ago, wish I’d accepted their fates sooner, if that makes sense.
But I’m only human and I desperately wanted to believe otherwise.
If I could have several more hours with both of them it would be spent on the back deck of the Goodbye House’.
It would be a warm but comfortable summer night with nothing but a cricket soundtrack and a deep, orange creamsicle sunset off to the West.
My father would be standing by the grill wearing his signature wrinkled Bermuda shorts (or were they seersucker? God forbid), sans shirt with his pot belly exposed to the world with a can of Busch beer in his hand as he flipped burgers and hot dogs.
My mother would be flitting around the kitchen like some culinary Tasmanian devil putting the finishing touches on one of her ‘signature’ desserts.
We wouldn’t be talking about anything in particular; it would just be like it once was.
But it would be different to me because I would mentally file away and lock every smile, every laugh, and every taste and smell living inside that one bittersweet summer evening.
And I would remember all of it again, if I had one more chance.
Maybe the truth of the matter is that those memories are never very far away; in fact they’re easily accessible because wherever I am, ‘home’ is always close by.
Actually, it’s walking distance . . .

~m