A slight breeze stood a strand of wheat colored hair straight up on his head as he crawled from a muddy drainpipe. A sliver of pale blue between slowly parting clouds seemed all the assurance he needed to hike up his little jeans and resume whatever journey he’d been on before the downpour; the downpour that had separated us.
I expected anger, fear. I anticipated relief when I called his name. A thorny vine of grief tightened around my heart when icy blue barbs glared from his tear-streaked face as he quickened his pace away from me.
Stunned by profound sorrow, I didn’t, at first, realize that it had been my own voice wailing “What have I done?” that awakened me. But I was ever so glad it had. And I spent the rest of the dark hours thinking about what in the land of languid lizards had possessed me to have a dream like that, and I thought about the passing year in general.
I certainly learned a lot in a year far more eventful than most. From tempestuous trials I learned determination, through jubilant triumphs; humble restraint, infinite patience is required for much-anticipated weddings, and I learned quiet acceptance when unexpected funerals don’t always bring folks together. Once I had it all mapped out, each in its own drawer of memories, it was easy to see the thread that ties them all together—people. Good, bad or ugly, people make the world go up, or down in just about every conceivable way. I can count quite a few who’ve influenced events—or outcomes of said events in the last year alone. How about you? Can you count on one hand the people who affected events in your life last year?
I’m of a mind that as long as you’re still learning, you’re still living. I guess I am most assuredly still doing both! But there’s been one thing missing of late. Writing. I haven’t been writing, and I dearly miss it. Here is where the insecurity pours in like a busted dam upriver; flooding my mind with bony bent twigs of inspiration being swiftly washed away as a treasured muse with an icy blue glare drifts past on an old oven door. Do any of my fellow InsecureWriters ever feel that setting aside writing for awhile might mean never getting it back?
Wednesday Word(s): Truncated Domes: A strip (typically bright yellow) of strategically raised buttons (the worldwide language of braille) placed on the ground near stores, restaurants, parking lots; anywhere pedestrian and vehicular traffic intersect to warn the visually impaired of possibly dangerous areas. It’s not just a courtesy—it’s the law. This product was created by Tilco Vanguard™. Pretty cool, huh? Honorable mention due to National Braille Month. Does anyone have any books published in braille?