Winter Wonderland

I am sitting looking out the window onto the North Carolina landscape, and it is snow covered and beautiful. White Christmas...didn't happen til a bit later in the day, but they got one down here-which is far from usual. It made it special, kind of picturesque. I have some time off so we will be here for a few days...just chillin with the family. It is a good thing to get out of the city for a minute, away from the hustle and bustle.

midnight

I should be asleep right now, laying down and resting these weary bones...but I am here. Looking into the night through nouns and verbs...not wanting to address the issues of the day but just wanting to free flow-allow thoughts to travel until they decide to stop. The beauty and ability of the written word...

She carries the universe in her womb

life of the great generation to come

comes from within her person

she is deserving of more than gratitude

perhaps praise

for mankind cannot survive without

she

yet more often than not she is not valued

as the anchor of our society

Queen

should be her name

Cold

as a December morning

was her stare into the distance

a witness of too many trials to

testify

she rather cry waterless tears in the wee

hours as the whistle

of the wind pierces her solitude

hadn't thought of him

since the springtime of some

years before

now his mental presence weighs heavily,

leaving tracks in her mind

like footprints on soft soil

seems her soul seasoned with lackluster

bits and pieces of promises

unkept

heart filled with remnants of dreams

developed in a dark room

and exposed to light too fast

exposed too fast-

still first memory of he

a first

illuminating innocence lost

almost...

light in a space less lit

hidden from the present

by time...

and a silent wish to negate

all memories

to remain...simply

cold

as a December morning

Heartbeat...

So it all became just that much more real today. I heard the heartbeat of my child. It was a powerful sound-the sound of life inside my most precious treasure, my wife. I did not know exactly how I would feel when I first heard it, but it was almost surreal. Like I was watching another couple on television...crazy huh? A little baby is growing in there...I saw a glimpse of life on the screen and I could only pause, gasp...wow. I actually taped the heartbeat on my phone as we sat there and listened to my wife's belly. Who are you? What will you be like? Are you okay? No answers...just whoosh, whoosh, whoosh...like waves of the ocean crashing against the shore. We are out here waiting for you...whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. Life man. God is great.

I don't know what being a parent will feel like. It has not hit me yet. The morning sickness, and all that is hitting my wife, but I am the constant observer and provider. I am not going through this as she is, but I am going through something. A range of emotions, heart beating faster with every thought of the magnitude of this moment-whoosh, whoosh, whoosh...right, we are both anxious. The baby to be...to live...to exist. Me, anxious to hold, care for, watch...teach...help grow. Anxious. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh...my heart can't stop beating fast. Crazy right. A baby that God has created for us. What a responsibility, and a blessing...an honor.

I sit here now and write this. Both mommy and the little one are fast asleep...least I think so. My heartbeat has slowed down...and the nervousness of the day is dissipating. I can breathe a little easier because everything was okay. We are fine. This is the most amazing day of my life. But I think there are more to come.

inspired

I never knew exactly when I would know that writing was my only way out of the monotony of life. I just always thought, if I ever found there was nothing I could do...all else failed, well then I would sit and write the great American novel and be back in the world. Get a job, just writing. It was my essential fall back plan. Yup-no formal training or "by lines" to speak of, but if it all fell down I would toss in the chips and just make it as an author. That was plan B.

The problem is, plan A was never quite figured out. The bigger irony in all of this is that many would say that I am a planner. That my life has been well scripted and I am just fulfilling roles that I wrote long ago...I know this is not an original thought as I heard it in a movie once-but regardless, I am just living the screenplay I drafted college. That is what some may think. However, I am not. It may sound like it if I get into telling the story, but my history is not to be told in chronological order. No sir, it is for chapters, and cutouts and missing scenes. I am no this, then, that type of cat. But I digress.

Writing was or maybe is to be my ticket. Major hurdle in writing though is what are you even going to write about? I mean, it is easy to want to say something but realize that upon making the statement the world will view you differently. I have discussed that concept before, so no need to revisit but if you want to really get your message across to the masses...write it yourself. The world will hear you...or at least they will give you a multitude of opinions on what they heard.

But back to the great American novel...how does one begin? Did Henry David Thoreau know that Walden would be heralded as one of the great American novels? No-he just went to the woods and wrote...most probably thought he was weird but he just needed to think and be away from it all. Now his thoughts are treasured, by millions. In other words, there is no formula, you just let go and release the story that has survived within you for as long as you know. If people can relate, then you are on you way. Books transcend time because times change, but people do not. There are only so many human emotions and they do not mutate over time...humans are humans. Therefore, if you touch them in this day in age, you will touch them in the future and beyond.

So I have been inspired to write again...like every few months, and prayerfully I provide something worth reading. If not now, perhaps later. For someone. Regardless, it is a beginning to a story already begun.