My Grandfather's Hands

I remember my grandfather’s hands. Even now I can see them, large and rough hewn. Scars and calluses from years of hard labor. I remember how small my hand felt in his when we would walk in the meadow. He particularly liked the early evening when the shadows began to lengthen and the stars began to wink hello to evening. We would stop at the rise of the hill just as the sun dipped below the horizon and he would sigh. His beard, gray for as long as I knew him, would lift slightly in the breeze. “Listen,” he would speak softly. “God is saying good night to all His children.”
My grandfather’s hands were the hands of a carpenter, a man who toiled daily to create something out of a piece of wood. It always amazed me to see those huge fingers move nimbly. My grandfather’s hands made me feel safe.
At night we would sit and he would tell me stories of long ago, faraway places. I touched the deep scars on his palms and asked him how they got there. He would shake his head and say it was a long time ago in another life. Sometimes he would tell me they came because people didn’t understand. I didn’t understand THAT.
I remember my grandfather’s hands and I should have realized then what I know now. The secret was there all the time.

Joy, Joy, Happy, Happy

I made the final arrangements for our trip to England and Scotland today. Josh's passport is in the mail according to the website, the last payment has been made, and I booked our Jack the Ripper tour. I am floating on air.
This promises to be a great experience for the three of us. An adventure to be remembered. eeek.
Okay, maybe I am overreacting. That's pretty common for me.
I have been thinking about my life and how I have gotten to this point. I realize I wouldn't change one minute of my life, the good choices and the bad, the happy days and the sad, the ups or downs. Every moment and every breath has brought me where I am and I like this place. I thank G-d every day for the miracles given to me, the blessings bestowed and I only hope I have given something back.

100 Years
I'm 15 for a moment
Caught in between 10 and 20
And I'm just dreaming
Counting the ways to where you are
I'm 22 for a moment
She feels better than ever
And we're on fire
Making our way back from Mars
15… there's still time for you
Time to buy and time to lose15…there's never a wish better than this
When you only got 100 years to live…
I'm 33 for a moment
Still the man but you see I'm a they
A kid on the way
A family on my mind
I'm 45 for a moment
The sea is high
And I'm heading into a crisis
Chasing the years of my life
15… there's still time for you
Time to buy and time to lose yourself
Within a morning star
15… I'm all right with you
15… there's never a wish better than this
When you only got 100 years to live…
Half time goes by
Suddenly you’re wise
Another blink of an eye 67 is gone
The sun is getting high
We're moving on...
I'm 99 for a moment
Dying for just another moment
And I'm just dreaming
Counting the ways to where you are
15… there's still time for you
22… I feel her too
33… you’re on your way
Every Day's a new Day
15… there's still time for you
Time to buy and time to choose
Hey 15… there's never a wish better than this
When you only got 100 years to live

It's A Winner

Last weekend I took my husband to Hot Springs, NC to celebrate his 47th birthday. We stayed at a romantic cabin on a farm, enjoyed the bubbling mineral springs and I took lots of pictures. On impulse I submitted this photo to a contest/publication. Just learned it will be published in Photography Vibes a publication of the Circle of Photography. Whee! This is the second time I have had one of my photos recognized. Several years ago I won Honorable Mention in a local contest. What a neat way to remember a very special and very romantic weekend!

Sunrise

Broadwing Farm
Hot Springs, NC
10/30/05

And the Snow Fell...

It was cold. The snow fell for days and coated the world with frozen silence. We played in the snow and flakes clung to your beard, tantalizing, tempting drops inviting a kiss.
The glare of the noonday sun on the snow blinded me to your faults. In the still evenings we would snuggle on the couch under piles of blankets, nursing cups of steaming cocoa and you told me of dreams that remain fantasies.
I believed I loved you. Maybe I did. I hoped you loved me. Maybe you did.
Our breath would make white balloons in the crisp winter air and carry our words away to the gods. Did they laugh at our youth? Did they know our destiny?
We cooked out in the yard, snow crunching beneath our shoes as the grill crackled and the flames danced. I poured a libation of grape juice to gods we didn't believe in and we laughed at our poverty.
Winter is coming again, her arms open in a welcoming embrace of forgetfulness. Where are you now? Do you still like chocolate and sweet hot tea? I can smell the cigar smoke and remember the smoke curling around your head like a misty crown. What kingdom do you rule now and is your touch still gentle?