The Arrival (Home)

   Blinking in the glaring sunshine, our young woman looked out at this new world. The moisture that escaped through slitted eyes now had more to do with a need for shade. Home, on the other side of the world, was leaving the sunshine for the cold embrace of winter. Here the spring rays drove arrows into already tender lids. Already there was a need for adjustment, for change.

   Sleep had continued to elude her in her jaunts. Arriving in Germany, she had tried to explore this new city a little, but lack of sleep and time changes left her thoroughly uninterested. She eventually gave up and tried to find a quiet spot to catch a little sleep. Just as she was drifting off a security guard came and shook her. He spoke abruptly in what she assumed was the German language and scowled at her. Desperately trying to bring a German word or two to mind, she tried to apologize  or ask if there was somewhere she could rest her eyes until her flight several hours later. Her stupor left her dull and she shuffled off to find another space to occupy. The flight from Germany to South Africa brought even less sleep. She had managed to  find a few hours rest in a tucked away corner that she added to the small handful from her first flight. The second flight followed moonlight and she was enthralled by the trail of the full moon as it followed her down the continent. She imagined deserts, nomads, villages held close in slumber's grasp. She was truly in a different world and it was getting closer. In a matter of scant hours she would be touching down in the land of her Father's birth. She would be meeting his brother, her uncle, and numerous family members that had been no more than fantasy a short while ago. Excitement began to seep in.

   Now she walked off the plane and down a ramp to the tarmac below. A novel experience alone, as back in her part of the world there were too many months that held inclement weather to discourage outside ventures for those not yet acclimatized. Back in Canada, she would have drifted through a tunnel attached to the stopped plane that led to the airport building proper. Not here. She followed a flight attendant who had called her name and was plunked in front of a smiling man.

   "Welcome!", he fairly shouted as he scooped the bag from her arm. Introductions were proffered with smiles and warmth. Mirth fairly sparkled in her cousin's eyes. This was in fact her cousin's husband and he worked for the airport. This was the first of her kin. Her father's kin.

   He whisked her through security with laughter and pleasantries. She blinked trying to keep up with his jovial banter. Despite her muted brain, she liked this man already. She continued to squint through bleary eyes, but was happy to be there. Before her sleep-deprived brain could catch up, they stopped again. This time it was in front of her uncle. A crooked smile pattered across her creased face. She was home.

22 and life

   Once upon a time, a young woman sat waiting for the call. Eyes downcast, she poured her heart into the journal on her lap. Tear drops dried on the page as she wrote. Hugs received moments before still wrapped themselves around her soul; arms warm with their remembrance. Bittersweet moments to carry into days to come. Adventure traded for letting go of tarnished love.

"First boarding call for flight # ^<~> to Frankfurt, Germany..."

   Her bag was stuffed under her chair and looped around her ankle. While travelling, always be more cautious. You never know who you are going to run into. Strangers might steal your purse, bags or heart. My Father learned that the hard way. Canada was the last stop on his tour before heading home. My Mom put an end to his travelling days. Heart stolen by love, they were married within the year. That story is for another day though.

   This afternoon, the young woman was jetting off to find her father's roots that so long ago had been settled far from his first home. Germany was a transit place for her. The main destination was Africa. A place of her dreams and wonder. What would she see and do? Would she reconnect with the lost pieces of her childhood? The excitement could have been palpable. She wrote of what she should be excited about. The hugs that were fading around her held sorrow in their wake though. A difficult love to leave behind. One that was necessary. Tears still fell and would continue. It was time.

   When her section was called she joined the queue. People shuffled forward pushing boarding passes in front of them. She was leaving behind her home; her life. She wanted to; had to, but ice stabbed into a swollen heart. She found her seat and settled in for the journey. People bustled about on the tarmac. She watched, but saw a lover's eyes staring through her. All night those eyes watched her as she flew through inky skies away from him. Sleep teased and gave her comfort for a few scant hours. Mostly she watched the midnight sky. A full  moon was her guide to a new life. Adventure had begun and she could not close her eyes to the experiences that were bright in front of her. Africa awaited ...

The wind blows through the pages of my map book; destination unknown

Hmmm, a road trip whispers. Different time. Different Places. Different van. Same gaggle o' galoots. I am interested. A small smile creeps into the corner of my thoughts. Good timing. Good people. Good vibes. Yes. Now to make the thought take flesh and fly. Something to work on...

The Eyes in the Mirror

Look into the mirror.
Look.
Do you know what you are looking at?
Do you know what you are looking for?
  If you dare, stare into the eyes that stare back at you
Can you do that?

I ask me.

Deep, deep into pools of yesterday
Deep, deep into soul
  deep into me

I have looked and seen
   failure
     mistakes
        guilt

I have looked away

tears sliding down dark cheeks
too many demons there
no eyes
just memory

Today a woman stares back at me
some days she is familiar
she smiles
she is pretty.

some days I wonder how she can be there at all
How did she not float away?
ride on a wave of grief
out of the world,
off the edge of the mirror
into someone else's memory.
How?
Indeed.

And yet this morning I got up
and she was there
every day she is there
Phenomenal
yes.
she is there.

Job Title: Author

   I am a little hesitant to say anything, but what the heck. Are we not in the blogosphere to put our words across? To make our voice heard? Do we not take that giant leap of faith in thinking that someone might possibly have some little interest in the things rolling around our heads and what conceivably falls out? Yeah, something like that. I do not have readers falling all over me, but I know there are a few of you who wander by my page to see what interesting things I might spout today. So I will let you in on a little secret. Are you ready?

   I want to be a writer. 

   "WOW", I hear you say. "Yeah, join the club!"

   For those of us that write blogs, I can guess that we all are writers in our own sets. Presumably we would all love to be writers with a capital W. Generally, we accept that this golden dream does not happen for everyone. Well, today I took another step in that direction. I submitted a children's book for consideration. It is a silly animal ABC book. The odds of it getting published are questionable, but the point is that I am taking that first step. I have submitted a few poems to poetry sites as well, with no hits yet. This feels bigger though. It is a bit of a testing ground for me. I am taking a writing course at present which seems to be keeping my writing alive and well. I figured that if I truly want to make a go at being a writer, then I have to start somewhere. So I start by submitting my words out there. I am leaning quietly out of my comfort zone in hopes that I will not be shot down, or worse ignored completely. They both may happen, but I have to know that it happens to the best of them. So today as I sit pondering what life may look like in the future, that darned "What am I going to be when I grow up?" maybe I can hope and pray that some day I can say with pride that I am an author.