Time for a bedtime story for the people from good ole Orange The Wait She had been waiting most of her life for this friend to come. It had been promised he would come. The rocking chair went back and forth as she stared at the summer passing into the fall. There were so many years she had seen time come and go. The leaves of the trees glistened while the sunlight reflected a serene color of joy. Out of corner of her eye she noticed birds and squirrels eating in harmony. She really loved this time of the year. Many years have passed by and left some sort of indication that time leaves its marking. Her hair was now beautiful silver, a whitish color as though she had reached up and grabbed a piece of the clouds. Her eyes had the look of someone who has pictured a lot of life. Her hands, those once smooth beautiful hands, were now road maps, showing the travels of time. She realizes most of all her walk is no longer as quick, but mere steps at a time. She closed her eyes and began to be shown her very life; her childhood with the wonder box that hung out of the window on the fire escape. There was also the icebox where the iceman brought a block of ice to the house. She saw herself jumping rope and skipping about. She loved her childhood so much. She thought of growing up and meeting her husband who has since left her alone making his transition. She remembered how he had courted her, and how there was always a third person with them everywhere they went. Life had been good to her. Most of all, God had kept watchful eye on her. She knew he knew what her needs had been, as well as her needs of today. The tears of joy slowly rolled down her cheeks as she was awakened out of her trance by a small hand. This small hand belonged to a young lad, and he laid his hand on her lap. With his tiny hands he helped her up and asked her if she was ready. It puzzled her for a moment and then she understood it was time to go. She always wondered what it would look like, and how it would be. He wait was over and she was going home…being led by death in person of a small child. Goodnight..to the best people in my life.....They say sight is faculty and seeing is an art....and I am so blessed and enriched...by seeing and feeling the compassion all of you share each and every time we convene with the thoughts...of a town where there was magic....and people were colorless...and kind....Im coming....
Posted on: Mon, 10 Nov 2014 04:04:20 +0000
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