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?
