Quiet

Oh, but the distance between us. 

Hope?!?

       

       

        And there is the point where the colors fade out and in and back to darkness. This place when you decide to give up based on everything you have learned from the state of the world; from the awful horror that happens.

But horror happens everywhere.

        There is no escape from the darkness that seems to reign here. Believe in what you want, the world will always turn your stomach.


...

        I believe in God. I believe because I have experienced the joy of hope. Many others haven't. I will never judge. I will be the very last to judge. But if you knew me before, you know me now as a different person. Because I have hope. The single thing that puts light into the eyes of the blind is hope.

        It doesn't matter to me if you agree with me or not, or if you actually hate the message I am sending. It's just my story, and you have yours. It's just my story.

        I was once very unhappy without losing much. I am now very happy having lost much. My hope in God seems to have gotten me somewhere in my life.


Sing.
Migrate.



Thanks for reading...Z

Carving Your Name

        A photograph may be the most important invention for people still living. You get a snapshot in time of a moment that only those involved in the photo can share.  It was a moment that no one may remember, but it was this moment it time that happened and proves you were alive in the mist of our existence.

        When everything else is gone and your existence hasn't been thought of for centuries, someone will eventually pick up that photograph and prove you were here. Someone will know that there was a story to be told here.
...

We carved our names on that tree.





Sing.
Migrate.



Thanks for reading...Z

They are There and You are Here

       
        The colors flash and the lights dance and everything is art. But those things don't stop reality. I always try to bury really important things in words and cover them up with pictures. I try to make them less because I can't handle more.

        Lately, I've been really ok. I feel better when working the day shift. I'm 75% less lonely. I've been able to go back to church. I've just felt better.

        But feeling better doesn't mean I have forgotten.

...


        I saw your mom today. She was composed and graceful as she has always been. Your dad got married yesterday. I got to go to the reception. Of the three of us, I'm the only one to have been at his wedding. I was doing so well too. I was looking forward as if I had blinders on.

        You both haunt me. In my dreams, you show up. When I'm driving, you show up. When I look at your kids, you both show up. I wouldn't trade those moments for anything. But I get sad sometimes when I think that you might be watching. It has been a really ugly road back to happiness. I'm not sure any of us would have wanted you to see it. But as ugly as it was, we held on to each other and I think we learned what made us all keep moving. Underneath it all, we turned out to be strong. Because we held on to each other.














Sing.
Migrate.

Thanks for reading...Z

Around The Block

        

        Life plays itself out in acts consisting of happiness and growth, crisis, sorrow, recovery, happiness and growth, then definition. Then it repeats over and over again until you could be considered wise, right before you die. The cruel part is that all of the wisdom gained would have been so much more useful earlier in your life. The great part is that the wisdom you have earned is earned, and it shapes what kind of people those that follow you will be.
        People come and go in and out of your life at different times and in different spaces. Some family people are permanent, and those people whether blood related or not ought to be considered family. Others are little saviors and sometimes place keepers that lead you into other things. Most relationships bud, grow, fade, and often die. These little saviors are all but forgotten.
        Until you drive past that old white shed where you used to have “Blood brother’s” club meetings. Or smell a carnival and find yourself right back on that ride with your mom, or your dad, or your friends. You can almost feel yourself laughing again. You can go a decade without the thought of a particular person crossing your consciousness, but one morning when you step out into the cold fog, you hear them whisper. You see their shadow just beyond your ability to identify them. They were here again, even if stored in your consciousness and brought back from the depths by the way your streetlight flickers in and out. It’s fleeting, so you cannot touch it. You can only close your eyes and enjoy, remembering the beauty of your youth before the crisis, recovery, and wisdom.