“One doesn’t discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time. “
André Gide
End of the Day
Tag: Dreams
What Came to Be
Deciding whether or not to buy that pumpkin could be a lost opportunity, but for what? Three days ago my daughter mentioned she would like a pumpkin, and if I would please check the local market for one on my way home from an errand. So I passed by the market and checked out the supply. One in particular looked pretty good. After checking out its shape, size and condition, I pondered – would this pumpkin be OK? I actually considered not taking it into the store to purchase – I’m not sure what held me back. Its slight imperfections – would it fit the bill? Too much over analyzing – for sure. Well, I took the plunge and lugged it inside to the cash register, where the person bagging groceries said, Do you have candy for the trick or treaters? I said, “No!” “I better get some.” He agreed and was happy to influence me. I didn’t tell him we hadn’t had a trick or treater for 20 years. So, after buying my candy and pumpkin @ $9.99. I asked the man, not young, not old, but a familiar face, bagging groceries, if he wouldn’t take my pumpkin to the car for me. It was kind of heavy. He was happy to oblige. On our way I asked him if he remembered the huge blizzard we had in 2011, which totally ruined our Halloween; the years when we used to get tons of children at the door. He said, “Yes, of course, I remember it.” And proceeded to tell me that night of the storm he was drinking and driving, hit black ice and had a horrible car accident. He said he hasn’t had a drink since. I was impressed with his story and told him I knew a few men who have chosen the same path as he has.
So, if I hadn’t gone in to the buy the pumpkin, I never would have heard the not so old man’s story, a person who has waited on me invariably since the times of Covid, and who has never ever opened up to me in all that time. I took the pumpkin home to my daughter, who excitedly carved out this jack-o-lantern, for her own 14 month daughter, whom she dressed up like a little witch, and marched her up and down the street to stop at all the houses with their lights on to go trick or treating. I think she was the only one out, but still neighbors were hopeful that someone would stop. The pumpkin sat outside on our doorstep with a candle-inside, to chase away all the evil spirits flying through the air.
All of this came to be…
A Child at Play
Green leaves move in the trees.
The sun shines.
A cool breeze brushes my face.
A child at play.
All Aboard!
Nostalgia galore
Take a ride on the New York Central
A journey on White Mountain Atlantic
Over the Merrimack and Pemigewasset River beds
From 3,728 feet on Mt Kancamagus
Imagine time standing still
in your mind.
Travel all aboard!
In January
Snow falls to the ground.
Gray sky, bare trees.
A chill in the air,
here to stay,
for today,
I'm afraid -
GRB
A Day at the Beach
Tuesday, July 12, 2022 I love the beach It’s a special place for me I take naps Listen to waves And walk along the sandy edge of the ocean, Watching children make castles in the sand. Dreams of the inhabitants flood the beach My dreams, their dreams, everyone’s dreams. The salty water of the tide moves in and out And sweeps up all these dreams and moves them back out to the sea. Back and forth, back and forth, dreams tumble like shells with the riptide. Dreams that may never come true Dreams unseen in real life Except in the minds of those who dare to ponder that which is possible. A small girl with blonde hair to her shoulders Builds pyramids by the seashore with her dad. Chichén Itzá comes to mind. The re-creation of a place they never heard of before. Maybe shown in a picture, at some time, By some teacher, from who knows where. And it stuck in their mind. As the tide moves in at about 4 o’clock, Most pack their bags to go. Begrudging the work that lies ahead Their feet kick up their dreams in the sand. The lifeguard stays on, Talking away with an older female friend sitting down below. She keeps him company for the day. He talks about the sea, the wild sea so ‘bravo’ from the full moon rising in the sky. Gentle souls were he, and she. And the small blond girl stood before her pyramids Arms extended from East to West Absorbing the current through her veins, eager to gulp her up like a whale. But she stood strong, and firm, Impermeable and invincible against the steady gust of wind, As she overlooked the sea with its fierce and raucous waves. When her father said “Aria, it’s time to go,” A loud and thunderous “No” came from her tiny back turned body, Resistant to a thief who would dare to steal her dream. But she acquiesced leaving her castles behind, like the friendly couple Sitting nearby, she too packed up her things to return to her camp at Burlingame Park. A single colored, sleeping woman, with a indigo bandana, tied like a crown on her head, was awoken from her dream. Startled to find her dry little island in the sand Surrounded by the water, the encroaching tide told her she must flee - To save herself from getting totally drenched. Her dream clung at the edge of consciousness As she raised herself from the ground. The small girl was still standing in the distance with her parents. We caught her eye and waved, she waved back. Then they were gone. Disappeared as if they had never been there before. Their effervescent dreams dissipating like mist into the air. The beach was empty. Only the friendly lifeguard high in his chair was left chatting away, With his older female companion sitting below. Relating his stories of the sea. We too thought it time to go, Reluctantly, we gathered our things. As we stepped away, I searched my pocket filled with two white rocks To see if I had room to take everyone, and their dreams home with me. But no, I too, like Aria had to leave my dreams in the sand. At least for another day. By Georgianna Rivard
“A Day In The Life of Luna” ~ Revised
Made a journey down a winding road, to see an old friend and a dog named Luna. Near the coast we stayed. We listened to the not so distant waves come and go, in a rhythmic way. The smell of salt was in the air.
The next morning, on a walk at the beach, the tilting fence post glistened in the sun, with sand at its feet. Budding rose bushes, splattered bits of red color upon the dunes. The dynamic sea awaited the hustle and bustle of beachgoers, after Luna and her friends had their play.
In the afternoon, the sun beat down. Children frolicked at the shore with mother and father at their sides, building castles in the sand. They felt unfettered, by the rough canine play, of the early morn.
What did Luna think, as she lay at home sleeping, mid-day? There, she was dreaming of her four-legged pals, from whom she would steal balls and sticks, as they raucously rolled in the sand. Then, swim!
In the hours, when the night had fallen, and twilight awoke, daybreak returned to summon Luna out to play. Alone, she could not go. She rose, wagged her tail, and sniffed and licked the face of my sleepy friend. She was begging to go to the ocean, where she would find her friends again; and so they did.
With every journey, there is something to be learned. On this one, it was knowing a day in the life of Luna, and the simple pleasures it brings.
Luna
Made a journey down a winding road, to see an old friend, and a dog named Luna. Near the ocean we stayed, watching the waves, come and go.
On the morning walk with the dogs at the beach, the tilting fence glistened in the sun, with sand at her feet, and budding rose bushes of the dunes scattered round.
Time was approaching the hustle and bustle of beachgoers.
The afternoon sun beat down, where the children frolicked at the shore, with mother and father at their sides. They built castles in the sand, unfettered by the rough play of canines of the early morn.
What was Luna thinking, as she lay at home?
Luna spent the day, dreaming of her four legged friends, from whom she would steal balls and sticks, and of how they rolled raucously in the sand.
Then a swim!
Daybreak returned and Mother Nature called Luna back out to play. Alone she could not go, so she got up and wagged her tail, and sniffed and licked the sleepy face of my friend, to start another day, all over again.
Journey
Wandering down a country road,
in search of clarity and purpose,
A man saw a barn.
It was a landmark in rural decline.
A place of broken dreams from the past.
The day was dismal, and stormy.
Forlorn thoughts clouded his mind.
He paused at the crossing,
and stood in the wind and the rain.
All around him, time was moving fast.
Cindy
Always had a smile,
My very best friend,
A little older,
At times, my mother hen.
You gave me a name,
I still keep today,
You were the one,
with whom I wanted to play.
But now, like then,
We have to part ways.
Others frowned at our friendship,
But little did they know,
You and I lived like sisters
Through our fun, and our woes.
Under the falling stars,
Those warm summer nights,
Blessed Mary, the only witness
of our dreams, to unfold.
Yes! Young, you have gone;
But you got your wishes, too,
With your horses, and children, and husband.
Their love is true.
Go peacefully,
knowing, I loved you, as well,
and in my heart,
our memory dwells.
For if not, pray tell;
What is the meaning of life?
Your friend,
Greta
TiffanyCreek
On Tiffany Creek 