Monday, December 5, 2011
Saturday, August 6, 2011
, there is a park not more then a few acres in size. It is a quiet place most days, but without notice can fill with the sound of children’s laughter as compared to school yard on the first day of spring. Grandview, Washington
When I was a child I remember coming to this park with my mother. We would stop at the little hotdog stand on the highway and bring lunch to one of the many picnic table that scattered across the park. The ketchup dripped from my mouth as I rushed to consume the tasty snack. I hurried, so I could be released to play in the small wading pool. I can remember spending most of the hot days of summer cooling off in that little pond under the watchful eye of my mother.
The wading pool is only a memory, demolished and covered in asphalt. The children that play Basketball on its surface know nothing of my joy that I once felt within its cool waters.
Today, the grass seems greener than what I remember. I know the trees are taller but from the eyes of a child, they always seemed larger than life. From the snow filled Hallmark views in the winter to the shady days of summer, there is always someone there to enjoy its landscape. With each new season, the children play creating new memories.
I bought my first house across the street from this magical place. I watch my son play as I did under the watchful eyes of his mother. His pond has become the merry-go-round. If he isn’t climbing on the play structure, he is running across the open expanse of the parks interior to find another playmate. These will one day be his happiest memories.
One day, when his parents are gone as mine are now. I hope he will bring his family here and think of us as he sits under the tall trees of this little park.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
I posted my the first chapter of the fan-fiction Starlight in the Serenity Lost series. Please read and review.
Also, you might want to follow, once I sent it up.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
For months she hopped around my house without really making a fuss or bother. Until one day I noticed a smell in my room. It was like a cat box but worse. I followed my noise and found what was causing the foul smell easy enough. She had found a dark place under my water bed to make the before mentioned practice. It was bad and I needed it cleaned up. I went about draining my bed and pulling the bedding clear.
After a few hours work the room smelled better and my life continued. I was surprise at how much little Ashley had gotten away with by the simple fact that I had not paid attention to her. I blocked the holes and thought it would help. She just found another place to potty and then stopped using the paper all together. She started to look for lack of a better word, depressed. I went to the pet store and asked the woman behind that counter for some advice.
She said, "Ah, I see your problem, I have just the thing that you need in the back."
I followed her down the aisle and into the back where she stored some cages. She stopped and pointed.
"But I like her to be free," I answered the unspoken question.
The lady said, "Sir, she is a rabbit. She thinks your home is her home and in fact it is nothing but a larger cage."
What that woman said had stuck with me over the years. I released little Ashley behind my apartments. She never came back to me, but I saw her a few times hopping around enjoying her life. She liked the freedom and I like the clean smelling house.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
My brother in that same summer had disappeared and found in a kitchen drawer. (story of the Disappearance of Lee in same blog) It was late in the summer and the fence needed to be finished. They worked hard into the heat of the sun and Lee play near my father in the yard. He was always an explorative child and got into trouble for his curiosity on most days.
He disappeared for a few minute and my father stopped what he was doing to look for him. He was like that; he could multitask with the ease of will. My dad soon found Lee in the cab of my Grandpa’s truck. Going back to work my father never would have guessed what would have happened next. If he would have he would have spanked the little boy just for the notion.
Lee played for a few moment, making truck and transmissions sounds. The laughed when he noticed the key in the ignition. It didn’t take him long to do as he had seen his father and grandpa do many times. He shut the door, started the truck and through it into gear.
My dad heard the engine and was already running along side the truck as it picked up speed heading down the hill in front of my parent rented home in Prosser.
My brother was oblivious to my father’s taunts and concentrated on steering my grandpa’s pride and joy. From what I understand by all that witnessed that it was quite the special. My brother standing in the seat steering still making the transmission sounds with his mouth and my father run along side the truck.
The truck stopped and no harm done and Lee was off exploring the yard again. Many stories like that exist, but this morning I sit drinking my coffee wondering just how many have been lost and will be lost. Every story does have to a moral. Every story doesn’t need to be remembers. However, just remember don’t leave you keys in your car especial around my brother Lee. I always thought he seemed a little shifty.
Monday, January 24, 2011
It turned out that I would worry about something else instead. My son took sick on Friday. With a lite fever and cold he laid on the couch most of the weekend. On Sunday, he got worse and the fever went to 103. We worried about what to do, buying over the counter fever reducer we banked my son's heath on the claims of the packaging. I had made up my mind that if he wasn't better by morning he was heading to the hospital.
About ten in the evening he awoke screaming and we ran to his aid. He was soaked in sweat and confused. His bed needed changed and the fever was gone. I held him then. I felt better even if he didn't think he was better. We both showed signs of mending.
I can remember getting ear infections when I was little, and taken with a high fever. Staying awake was the worse form of torture. The pain of an ear infection would keep me awake for days, along with a fever and cold to boot. It became the perfect storm of sickness. I can remember my dad picking me up and holding me in his arms. I must have been ten, and he rocked and consoled me.
It is funny were your mind goes when you hold you sick child. It races to all directions, you figure out what needs to be done, check. You figure okay how sick is he, check. You figure is he getting better, check. What would my father do, check?
What would my father have done? He would have called my aunt and asked her what to do. I really didn't have that option; do to circumstances beyond my control I am forced to deal with these matters on my own. We had phoned a friend about the treatment of fever and had chosen the fever medication based on what she had told us, but what to do when your child is still sick. It placed us being parents in a whole new light.
The next morning he claimed to be sick and I was tasked with finding out the truth. Yes, my son a normal child that really doesn't seem to lie about anything. But will push this practice when it comes to matter involving him going to school. He stood in front of me. He coughed. I felt for his head and it felt normal. He coughed harder. I felt for his stomach and it wasn't clam-y and for the most part felt normal. Then he coughed louder. I almost laughed. He was good at faking but his eyes were a little red and as he stood there his noise draining onto his upper lip.
I asked myself would I want to stand outside for hour and half in the cold just after getting over being ill myself, because I send him to school he would have to go out and play in the cold. The answer was no and he got to stay home. Truth was he could fake a lot of things but he could fake the runny nose and red eyes.
So back to me or as least in my direction, my father used to be in pain for days and I often wondered if he would hit his thumb with a hammer to forget about the pain in his leg, because this is really how this weekend turned out for me. I came into it with emotional baggage and sickness of my own. I turned out worrying about my son. I forgot about the trouble and sickness I felt. I forgot about my stomach for the most part. But am I better? I will let you know once I have eaten my first meal and held it down. I will let you know once my head clears from the morning funk. That I find myself, more and more, since I passed the 40 years mark. I will let you know when I know and not a moment sooner.