Standing at the kitchen sink, peering unfocused through the window into the freshly trimmed backyard, my thoughts wandered.
My eyes liked the little path to no-where, assembled like a concrete patchwork from no longer needed angle cut patio stones, pieces of the old pea rock sidewalk that once led to the front door, and a cement heart. The heart was made by digging a hole in the dirt for the cement truck to empty its down spout into when the new sidewalk was poured.
Purple Morning Glories grew at the back fence. I planted a pink Hibiscus tree and a white Angel Trumpet tree, one on each end of the path. Along its curve is an aluminum hand rail with a large heart shaped scroll work in the middle, one of a pair my son salvaged for me knowing I'd like the heart and find some creative use for. I only have one now, the other was stolen right out of my backyard, the nerve of some people. I made a giant dragonfly yard sculpture from a long necked wine bottle, with wings of copper wire, bits of glass, and beads to add sparkle in the sun. It is nestled nicely near the little path to no-where, as are a few decorative garden finials.
Out of the leftover pile of otherwise useless concrete chunk and paver debris, I constructed a small stacked stone-like wall at the paths beginning. A cast metal horse head tops the end cap. This, my view through the kitchen window.
After showing signs for several weeks of advanced age and service to our family, my old dishwasher finally stopped working altogether. Since then it has not been too much trouble to just wash the dishes by hand, though I look forward to replacing the machine, soon. Still in my robe not quite ready to fully engage the day, and wrist deep in sudsy water, I appreciated the serene view before me. A yellow butterfly delighted in the Morning Glories and a dragonfly lighted on the wing of my glass and wire yard art. Wash rinse drain, wash rinse drain, wash rinse drain. Not much thought needed to go into it, so my mind naturally drifted elsewhere, kids, grand-kids, parents, bills, job, classes, projects I was working on, some not yet started but should be working on. How does it happen that there is always so much to do and seems not enough time to do it in?
The phone rang, startling me back from daydreaming to attention. The answering machine, my no-salary automated call screener, relayed the recorded words I'd heard a hundred times, even a thousand times before, for years, "hello, this is NCO financial, this is an attempt to collect a debt...". I was annoyed, for the thousandth time. I pay my bills, don't have credit card debt, car payments or house payments. Living debt free has meant endless hard work and sacrifice. It isn't fair or right that the long past financial obligations incurred and ignored by others continue to hound, me. I wish the callers realized, and cared, that calling my phone number is a futile attempt toward their intent. The beep indicating a finished message let me relax again. Sunshine and suds drew me back in.
A curious flurry of wings and chirping beaks outside the window looked as if there was something of great interest and importance going on in the world of birds. It made me wonder what all the excitement was about. Wash rinse drain, wash rinse drain. The curly tail lizards that were usually content to bask atop the sun warmed chunks of stacked wall, like kings of the hill surveying their lands, scampered about every which way as if readying for a very important curly tail event. For some reason the whole scene seemed a bit unusual. What was all the raucous about out there?
I needed to quit dilly dallying here in the suds and get a move on or I would never accomplish my overladen to-do-list, or at least an acceptable portion of it. Is that thunder I hear in the distance? Strange, the sky is so sunny and bright, in fact so bright that I'm squinting here at the window, inside the house. As the distant thunder approaches, I can actually feel it under my feet and in my chest.
The trees suddenly bend under a whoosh of wind,
and then,
in the blink of an eye...
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~
Wearing only socks on his feet to avoid the racket his clicking heals would cause on the 5:45 a.m. tile floor, he fumbled in the darkness as his eyes slowly adjusted, successfully making his way to the fridge without waking her. He swigged juice from the bottle. Today was a day off from her part time job, no need to wake her with his clatter he thought, especially not this early. They were up late last night talking, again, about church and her church friends and an upcoming event with them that she hoped he would attend with her. He was not interested. He had gone to a couple of those God functions with her, a softball game, a carry in supper and family game night, but her crowd just wasn't for him. Making nice on a Friday night with a bunch of Bible thumpers and their kids would not be a social repeat for him.
Instead he would spend his evenings, especially those on the weekends, chilling with his work pals at the Ice Box tavern only minutes up the street from his job. It had become a habit that did not earn any brownie points for him with her, but the beer was cold and he liked the company. She would just have to get over it. Their talks always ended up the same way, her disappointed, and him frustrated. They hadn't been doing well for quite some time, maybe not ever. It wasn't her fault, it wasn't his. They came from, lived in, and were headed toward, two different worlds. Polar opposites.
It wasn't that he could not believe there was a God, higher power, supernatural being, whatever you want to call it, but that he would not be beholden to someone, anyone, not her, not God. He was his own man. He never had and was sure never would, feel the need to strike up a bargain with God, he could handle his own affairs. It's his life, he'll do it himself, his own way.
He decided the ride to work would be much better with a cup of coffee from his favorite drive through. With his mind on other things, he sipped and promptly dribbled the too hot liquid down the front of his shirt pulling it away from his burned lips. With the sun not yet up, he was unable to see if any of the coffee splashed on his new car's upholstery. The thought of that miffed him the most. The day was off to a lousy start. He wished he could ditch the job but he had an appointment that had already been rescheduled, twice. He pulled into the parking space looking forward to 5:00.
His most pressing business was taken care of by late morning. He could have relaxed except that his thoughts kept moving back to his overall dissatisfaction with life. This sorry economy was bleeding his car salesman bank account, for a couple of years now. He had her, he was married, but could what he had with her really be called a marriage? He desperately wanted a change.
His thoughts were interrupted when he could overhear the guy in the next cubicle, "What? What do you mean? Calm down, say it slowly. OK I will. Call me when you get more information and I'll see what I can find out here." Then came the knock on their adjoining cubicle wall, followed by a "hey, come look at this".
Stirred from feeling sorry for himself, he went to where his buddy was looking at a TV. Regular television programming had been interrupted by the emergency broadcast system. Nonsensical words came out of an agitated announcer’s mouth, as the screen bounced from multiple camera crews in several locations where they were filming live. Co-workers joined them at the TV, "turn it up" one demanded. They watched and listened in disbelief. Was it some kind of War of the World's hoax? It was too bizarre, too many disconnected pieces. He looked around; two of his coworkers were missing. The boss, he was probably just out on the links, and the church guy who worked in the office at the other end of the showroom. None of them were particularly close to church guy, but where was he, shouldn't somebody go get him and tell him all hell seems to have broken loose out here?
He called home. The no salary automated call screener relayed his message through the speaker, to no-one listening. Maybe she is still sleeping he thought. He tried again, same thing.
He decided to try the neighbor's. The two women had become best friends since they started attending the same church a few years earlier. He figured he could ask her friend to see if her car was in the driveway. No answer. He tried one more time as he headed to his car, his own uneasiness compelling him to go check on her. Only moments ago he was wishing he could change his life. Well it seems things changed alright, at least for the moment, but this is not the change that he had in mind.
Her car was in the driveway when he pulled up, the neighbor's was too. He was a little puzzled, but mostly relieved to see their cars and to finally get out of the craziness on the roads. He turned the key, pushed open the door and called her name. No reply. He heard the sound of running water. Following the sound to the kitchen where it was coming from, he was bewildered to see only that, running water, and oddly, a pile of laundry on the floor in front of the sink. What distracted her so much that she forgot to turn off the water? And why would she drop a load of laundry there when the washing machine is only a few steps away? He walked over to turn off the faucet, noticing as he got closer that the pile he thought was laundry was in fact her nightgown and robe. The clothing was crumpled onto itself as if it had just slid off of her, right where she stood, at the sink in the middle of washing dishes. Something else on the floor caught his eye, something shiny, there in the corner. Her ring. Had she dropped it and it rolled into the corner?
Somehow he knew. Life as it had always been, would not be that way ever again. Change had come. Indeed.
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~
A rumble is heard in the distance
both feared, and anticipated
while earth quakes under the feet
of deniers, and those who have waited
and though they know, still,
they will be caught unaware
distracted with trivial pursuits
trapped in the Devil's lair
steadily advancing
nearer the thunderous sound
of the white horse and his rider
as each hoof touches down
the horses nostrils flare
as he breathes anxious restraint
readied for the command
in his rider's loosened reins
when on that final day
the clouds part to reveal
the Rider, King of Kings before whom
all the world will kneel
P.J.
Now I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse. And He who sat on him was called Faithful and True,...
And He has on His robe and on His thigh a name written:
KING OF KINGS
AND LORD OF LORDS.
Revelation 19:11, 16
