Unknown Light

Ignored, forgotten, and mostly unknown

A hopeful sunlight goes on

Until the day it cannot resist

Precipitously its gone

© April 2018

DWP

To Live a Life

To live a life mired in tar

The only light is from afar

Always seeking who you are

Forever bearing the crimson scar

© April 2018

DWP

Phones Now and Then

I was on my way to work this morning when I realized I forgot my cell phone.  I feel so naked.  It hasn’t always been this way. 

Nowadays, cell phones are ubiquitous.  That hasn’t always been the case.  I grew up in the era when phones were attached to a wall in the living room or kitchen or sat on a small table.  Most homes in my town had but one phone.  There was a cord that limited your movement.  In my house, you had to stand during your conversation.  If you were having a long conversation, you may pause a moment and move a chair closer in order to sit.  It was a happy day when dad bought an extension cord that allowed us to sit in the chair or couch in the living room. 

Speed dial?  That depended on how quickly you could spin your finger around the dial when placing a call.  You hoped the number you called had low numbers.  7, 8, 9 and 0 took forever when you were in a hurry.  There was no redial on our rotary phone.  There was a dial and you were the redialer.  Why would you redial?  No one answered or you got a busy signal.  There was a time if you called someone who was on the phone, you heard a beeping tone which indicated the other line was off the hook.  Yes, off the hook actually meant the part of the phone you held to your head wasn’t resting on the mechanism that allowed inbound calls.

Call waiting started when I was in high school, but few had it.  It cost extra and most considered it a luxury that wasn’t need.  That was like having a microwave.  (I’ll have to write some time about my mom getting her first microwave.)  Speaking of costs, only local calls were free.  You paid by the minute for long distance calls.  Therefore, calls to family, who lived in Michigan, were limited to special occasions and emergencies. 

I remember the first time I had to call someone.  I don’t recall who it was or the reason for but I was quite nervous.  I was, perhaps, 6 or 7 years old.  Excitement filled me when the call was complete.  I also remember Community Bank in Canton had a phone number to get the time and temperature.  I would call that number multiple times to hear the temps go up during the day. 

It was a few years into my working life when cell phones first came out.  They were much bigger then.  They reminded me of some radios soldiers used in the Vietnam conflict.  I had a coworker who had a “car phone.”  The voice mail on his car phone said something like “I’m not out right now.  I’m in.  Leave a message.” 

Still, it was many more years before I actually used a cell phone.  I had a job at a hotel that housed airlines crews during layovers.  I was driving a crew to the airport when the hotel called me.  I had to ask one of the flight crew members to answer it for me.  I didn’t know how to answer it. 

Times have changed they continue to accelerate.  Looking back, I feel like I am an archaic man talking about horse and buggy days.  I will survive this day without my phone.  Not having my phone gives me time to write. 

Shorties: Number 57

A level above, I saw her, with the wind pulling her dress.  Narrow and to her ankles, the thin fabric drawn across her lithe frame, she was the silhouette of a goddess.  Delight illuminated her countenance.  I was captured, captivated.  Surely, Aphrodite paled in comparison. 

With uplifted hand, she pointed across the harbor and her ladies in waiting followed the gesture as they fawned over and about her.  Recognition and acknowledgement proffered excitement prompting me to glimpse the scene of her illumination.  Magnificent structures and sea fowl of every kind filled the horizon.  I returned my eyes to this heavenly creature.  Her gaze fell to me and our eyes locked in recognition of another soul. 

My heart jumped.  Like the gusts tugging her garment, I longed to, likewise, rush to her.  Oh that I could wrap my arms around her in warmth.  To give her delight, love.  Then her tresses fell, obscuring her vision and interrupting the spell cast upon me.  Still in awe, I observed her turn of head and delicate fingers pulling the locks behind her ear.  There she remained, looking about the harbor.  Alas, obligations called me onward. 

Her visage remains seared upon my memory.  She stood, gazing about with gusts pulling the dress across her form, revealing the curve of her hips and breasts.  She was regal and altogether lovely.  Surely, she was fearfully and wonderfully made. 

A Thought

Life is a miracle of doldrums and ecstasy, pain and pleasure, hate and love, work and leisure, and so much more.  Yet, we are all part of the fabric interwoven together.  Sometimes, God allows us the miracle of seeing the enchantment of it all. 

DWP

Shorties: Number 56

Ken dreaded this day.  Fleeting scenes played out in his mind for many months.  Typically, he ignored them and thought of something else.  Still, the scenarios were unrelenting and pushed him to the precipice.  There he would be shown the day Tank would be sick enough to force the decision to put him down.  That day just slapped him in the face.  He would again take the dog to the veterinarian.  The vet would give the option of some expensive procedure the family couldn’t afford or give Tank a shot and he would peacefully go to sleep never to wake again. 

 

More than anything, Ken felt guilt for killing the pet he loved.  No, he would not be the one giving the injection.  Still, it was Tim’s decision.  Guilt taunted and shook him.  They couldn’t afford to pay for surgery.  In his mind, Ken knew life was more important than money.  But Tank was a pet.  If this was his wife or kids, there was no question he would spend every penny they had.  No debt would be too great.  That Tank was an animal gave no comfort .  Tank was more than a pet.  He was family.  Again, guilt crushed in. 

 

Pictures of Tank’s last day with the family assaulted Ken’s consciousness.  They’d give their beloved pet everything he loved in one day.  He’d enjoy his favorite foods, treats, toys and games.  This part of the story was filled with brightness and smiles.  Then Tank got the injection and everyone hugged and kissed him as they said goodbye.  He was happy but Ken felt like shit.  He killed his dog. 

 

This is how Ken envisioned it:  As he says his goodbyes to Tank, the dog looks at his master with adoration.  He would submit to the alpha as he always did.  Tank rolls onto his back and Ken rubs the dog’s chest.  Brokenhearted, Ken bends down and hugs the dog.  As the medicine takes effect in the old dog’s body, he licks his master’s face.  At least, that is how Ken imagined it.  Tank would love and forgive his master even in death.  That killed Ken most of all. 

Shorties: Number 55

Across the Room

I saw you there with eyes looking down.  Such lovely cheeks and a narrow chin, I found you quite unforgettable. Your full lashes grabbed my attention.  They called to me, drew me in.  Even in the poor lighting, I could see they were not fake. I knew in an instant you were real.  You were a genuine soul. You could not be one insincere.  There are too many counterfeits, reproductions and imitators in this world.  Are your truly what I see and believe?   

With downcast gaze, you pondered the screen of your phone.  Was it your sweetheart sending notes of love?  No, were they amorous verses you read, I would have seen their reflection.  Your countenance gave not the appearance of romance.  It was pensive.  What could knit your brow so?  

Peering at you as I ponder the incalculable, I consider my own face.  Compared to your winsome beauty, I must appear one who would scowl or frown?  I pray I never cause you to wince?  Your eyes lift and lock with mine and I must dart away while a thrill sweeps over me.  Thought I you beautiful before, I now realize the folly of my previous estimation. You are far beyond my ability to compute.  

I steal another glance and you have returned to your phone.  Slowly, gradually, words form in my mind.  Actually, a singular designation lifts above all.  Lovely.  You are lovely.  A beacon of hope to one lost at sea.  A shining goddess, a pillar of charming, alluring heavenliness.  Surely, this is what grabbed me prior to my spirit’s recognition of your presence.  a

Alas, you rise and gather your possessions.  Before you take a step toward the door I feel your warmth retreat from the room.  Yet you extend a parting trinket.  Your eyes meet mine and your lips create a sultry smile.  Oh dear angel, your dulcet spirit, and sweet gift are warmly received.  Such treasures illuminate my tenor and charge my atmosphere.