Sun drenched morning, the veil of humidity beginning to fall. Chubby brown birds bathing in the dirt while a curious cardinal takes in the scene. Taste the summer.
A small plate of blackberries, variegated in shades of rich and deep plum and violet blueberries. The sweetness and pop of tartness dance on my tongue, but it’s the blueberries that leave their watercolor behind. Taste the summer.
My mom bought a couple pedestal fans for the house and asked me to put them together. So I did, in five minutes flat, without reading a single direction. I was pretty proud of myself.
I turned the fan on, nothing. I tried every setting and speed, still nothing. With one hand gripping the side of the fan, in my frustration, I spun it like I was spinning the wheel on The Price Is Right. The blade spun, but it was more of a flop with a whining sound than the quiet hum of cool air being generated. Mom and I looked at each other and busted out laughing!
So I took the fan apart, since I clearly missed a step or two. After reading the directions, I found there was a part I needed to unscrew to better secure the blade in place so it would spin mechanically as it was made to, not by me spinning it with all the hope and might of making it to the showcase round. It’s amazing what happens when you slow down and read the directions.
A flower doesn’t focus on being perfect. It simply responds to the rays of the sun, is nurtured by the rain that falls and feeds off the ground in which it is planted.
The vibrancy or delicateness of a flower’s coloring. The folds and openness of its petals, release the calling card of its scent.
A flower realizes its beauty is in simply being and that’s enough.
Downwind from a magnolia tree, its sensuous, full-bodied aroma beckons.
Trudging up a slope so deceiving in its steepness, my calves scream and feet ache. The sweetness of the magnolia’s perfume steadies and calms me.
Downwind from a magnolia tree; confirmation that my destiny is within reach.
As the winds of change blow, keep me on course, Compass of My Soul. Four corners of the wind, four points of the cross, no truer GPS can keep me from getting lost.
Bright Morning Star, Nova of the Night, who’s light doesn’t diminish or fade. Light my path, Compass of My Soul.
Torrential rains fall, blinding my vision and path as the lightning strikes with the boom of thunder. Falling faster still, the ground is overwhelmed and flooded. At times seeking shelter, staying and waiting where I am, knowing I’ll continue to move forward with Compass firmly in hand.
Compass of My Soul, my most prized possession. Knowing to whom you belong brings comfort in uncertainty. I can confidently face whatever comes my way and go forward, knowing my life is in your hands.
In the first story I wrote about Nadia, one of her many attributes mentioned was her expert level begging. It’s epic. Plain and simple, the girl loves treats and will stop at nothing to get them. We’ve given in and indulged Nadia to the point that her Yorkie strut was starting to turn into a waddle!
Nadia’s treats have been replaced with smaller, healthier ones, the bacon flavored goodies going to the wayside. The new treats elicit the same response; jumping up and down, spinning around in a circle and doing the equivalent of the doggie moonwalk (M.J. would’ve been proud). Nadia’s love for food isn’t limited to treats. She eats her food with the same level of excitement and gusto, but is just as excited when we’re cooking and eating our food. Nose in the air, taking in the aroma, sometimes sniffing so hard that she spins in a circle. It’s a sight to see.
We don’t feed Nadia table food, but that doesn’t deter her campaign. Her method of begging; standing with one of her front paws raised with big brown eyes lasered on you. Even though the answer to table food is no, it doesn’t stop her from making her request known. Hope springs eternal.
Sometimes timid, always tenacious and adorable in all of her ways, my little Nadia is always up for the challenge (and usually wins).
Wading in the water, I was pulled into the riptide of loss, hurt and rejection from the past. Wading in the water has been the method in which I avoided drowning in the undercurrent of the emotion. Not this time. No longer fighting the memories of loss and abandonment, I float to absorb the meaning and lessons learned in order to go deeper with you. Swimming along the shore with toes touching the bottom, I ride the wave of emotion, boomeranging me back to shore and back to you.
At the beach, the sand in between your toes feels good, but not so much when the sands of time are slipping through your fingers.
We grasp with all our might, but can’t recover the lost moments.
I pay a fortune if it meant I could spend time with you. There’s no price too high.
“Do unto others, as you would have them do unto you.” The Golden Rule seems to have been shoved to the back of the jewelry box, becoming entangled with worthless pieces such as, prejudice, rage and intolerance.
Some ascribe to an “eye for an eye” mentality, but that’s just a poor excuse to inflict the pain one feels onto someone else. It only proves to make us blind to the fact that every person is valuable, every person deserves to be treated with compassion and respect. Every person matters. If God took care and delight in making us black, white, brown, yellow and every shade in between, who are we to decide that one is better than the other?
Despite the color of skin and ethnicity we represent, we have this key commonality; we all bleed red. It’s disheartening to see that the needless spilling of blood has become a daily occurrence. It needs to end. RIP Alton Sterling, Philandro Castile, the five Dallas police officers and countless individuals that lost their lives because their value wasn’t seen by another. You all matter.