During the visit, there’s something about the clothes strewn on the floor soon to be dumped in the washer, wallet lying on the dresser, cell plugged in, bed comforter in shambles
because the messiness means he’s home.
Now with air miles accumulated back in the familiar time zone, his room shines, neatness grating on my nerves, silence like receiving the cold shoulder.
My hand pulls back the comforter, tousling, creating wrinkles and lumps in the navy fabric as though rumpled from a restful night’s sleep, then I pull some old shirts from the closet, tossing them on the floor just so I can pretend the good-byes hadn’t found freedom.
We used to hear them, giggles in the distance, running behind bushes, hiding against stucco. Houses on the block, vacant? Not devoid of humans, but maybe lacking excitement to frolic beneath sun’s rays, sing with the robins, gaze at acrobatic squirrels in the tall oaks. Perhaps, sneaky screens stole that amusement, those precious, memory-making moments spent outdoors.
If we listed in longhand the number of sweet things in life, our lists would be never-ending. We’d write constantly, the pen would never get a rest, the amount of paper we’d need would be extensive, and our hand would begin to scream from exhaustion. Well, I haven’t been writing forever, and you know I’m typing this post, but here are a few sweet things that come to mind, and I hope we never take our lists for granted… Swimming in a sparkling lake that soothes the body from scorching heat and sweat of the day, reading a book you can’t put down – a real page-turner that interrupts chores, walking beneath a cerulean sky, hiking on a mountain top hearing birds practicing their choral selection sitting high in the tall trees and those sky-scraping trees shading your path, listening to the joyful giggles of children, observing in awe a star-filled night, touching soft, tiny feet of a baby who smiles back at you, witnessing your children’s triumphs, knowing someone gets you, that first fall into love, whispers of a warm, summer breeze, viewing graceful butterflies in flight, new vivid blooms in springtime, unexpected acts of kindness, answered prayers, writing down those thoughts, a hummingbird flitting about, melodies that comfort the heart and mind, and melodies that get you on your feet and make you wanna dance, a creamy chocolate indulgence, and a tender, slow kiss on the lips…truly the icing on the cake.
Lauren Scott (c) ❤️ My son made this carrot cake, my favorite dessert of all, and believe me, it was divine! Carrot cake is also the topic of a fun and sentimental story in my book, More than Coffee.
Light follows darkness like earth shadows the sun, but its timing, fickle unlike morning’s entrance each day. Thus, if gloom lurks within arm’s reach, keep courage nearby, for the great cheerleader of grit will spot that beam displaying hues so vivid, bursting with something larger than we can imagine and can’t exist without for a contented ride. It takes digging deep into the depths of our souls to unearth the chief spark of all notions, shimmering, welcomed… Hope.
A time so long ago, yet the memory in technicolor… I want to rip the page from my mind’s photo album, because my heart was foolish to fall for that man, our skies different our dreams astray, but the heart’s pulse beats to a tune of its own choosing, never inspired by logic, nor will it ever be shatterproof. But this man wasn’t a cockroach. I never wished to stomp on him, like others who preceded. And so, I’m grateful, for without that page I wouldn’t have stumbled upon the path that led me to my love at last.
Energy of hustle and bustle buzzes from one table to the next Baristas move like lightning creating magic in a mug Legs swing and bounce to rock ‘n’ roll flowing from speakers above Chatter and laughter drift among clinking glasses Crackling flames of reds and yellows tango in the fire-pit, and when he sips, mustache catches all prompting my imagination to a beige caterpillar resting on his upper lip My chai, sweet perfection, like this moment with him at the corner shop in downtown.
Baydreamer Writes ~ Lauren Scott, Author & Poet 