Our child’s beaming face reflected the warm mid-afternoon sun as she ran gleefully toward me, freshly plucked flower in her tiny hand.  Her eyes were filled with the wonder of life in the moment, and she wanted to share it with me.  In Guatemala, another child’s laughter filled the air as they traced their finger across an opaque glass window, and our child’s finger followed from the opposite side, her life making a difference in theirs…The world was hers for the taking, and she had seized it.

The mighty equine beasts towered over our child as she fed them apples from her little hand.  She smiled as their soft lips gently probed her hand, opened the way I’d shown her, to take what she’d offered.  She looked over at me, her eyes lit with wonder, and she laughed with delight as we shared the moment together.  In the freshly tilled field, her triumphant holler echoed over the breeze as her tiny hand gripped the handle of the rope tethered to the kite she’d worked so hard to get airborne. She ran with the wind and became one with it as her spirit flew high above her, for all the world to see…The world was hers for the taking, and she had seized it.

And, time marched on.

High school came along and our children’s world got bigger.  Supper was a time for animated conversation of their struggles in higher learning, and in navigating relationships.  It was a time to discuss the nuances of humanity as they developed their unique perspective on the world they found themselves a part of. Their joy was mine, their pain was mine, and their angst was mine.   I was a man blessed as they shared their lives with me, and I never took a second of it for granted.

And, time marched on.

Tears clouded my vision, hidden behind my sunglasses as we drove away, leaving our child to begin her life at university so very far away.  As I counted down the months, days, and then finally the seconds for round two, I foolishly convinced myself that I would be better prepared.  Yet, as we pulled away, leaving our other child to begin her life at university (closer to us, yet never close enough for me), the tears came again.

No more ‘Hi Papa!’ as I walked through the door, lifting my heart into the clouds with their youthful exuberance and genuine gladness at seeing me that day.  No more random squeeze hugs simply because they were there, followed by an ‘I love you too Papa’ flowing in my ear and down into my soul. No more…of all that I had known of them for as long as I could remember.

I missed them terribly, yet celebrated with every fiber of my being, all the excitement and newness that had come into their young lives.  I wanted this for them and would not have had it any other way.  I kept telling myself that I would find my way and learn to be the old ‘me’ again, the ‘me’ whose life didn’t revolve around the myriad things that filled theirs.

And, I did.  Sure, I still missed them (just not as painfully) and worried about them (that never lessens), but the old ‘me’ had always been there, I just had to get to know him again.  He was a little older, and thankfully a lot more mature, and I realized that things were going to be A-OK.  We had all begun new exciting stages in our lives (although I suspect their definition of ‘exciting’ would be very different than mine).

And, time marched on.

As we sit reading, the fire crackles while the snow blows in cold gusts outside the window, and the evening’s silence is interrupted by the ringing of the phone.  It is our child, and she’s calling to say ‘Hi’ and ask about our day as well as tell us all the details about hers.

The spring teases the air as the sun shines through the branches of the trees, the buds beginning to grow in hopeful anticipation of what is to come.  Our child is home for a visit and she walks with us along the forest trail and tells us about her life, and her dreams.

And, time marches on. 

I can’t predict the future and have no idea of where this life will lead our children as they seize it and make it their own.  The one certain thing…is that I can’t stop that cursed clock.  All I can do is cherish every second I have on this earth with them and all that they have brought to my life. 

Time will march on and while there’s a part of me that wishes I could be magnanimous and tip my hat in gracious defeat to that unyielding, callously indifferent son of a gun, I am not that man.

I will do my best to celebrate all that has been gifted to me, and try to waste none of it wishing for more.  But, I will not lie.  There will always be a part of me that looks upon this life, full to the brim with family and love, and wish for these precious moments in time to go on forever.

The End.

Was driving my motorcycle on the Cabot Trail a bucket list item? You bet, and you can add in there – sharing in it all with my girl.

And, it was magnificent. The roads beckoned us, cajoling us to lean in from one curve to the next, some bends unfolding into mind-blowing coastal vistas, and some unfolding into a canopy of green soothing stretches of east coast forest. All the while, the bike’s pipes roared and spat their determination to conquer every inch of ground traveled, shamelessly shattering whatever semblance of tranquility that may have preceded them.

The wind whipped past us, the salty breeze splashing errant rain drops over our faces from clouds that the weather app had assured us wouldn’t be there, and the mid-day sun wicked it all from our skin. The water spout feasting on the open ocean at the Veteran’s Monument proclaimed the power of Mother Nature, and I held you close while we silently appreciated Her mighty beauty together.

You laugh as the ocean splashes over the bow of the kayak, the cold salty spray heightening the excitement of paddling the tide as it embraces the shore. The sound of your uninhibited joy courses through me, and happily impales me upon the moment. The rocky monuments with so many imaginative names become nothing more than outcrops as the ocean claims what is and was Hers all along. We had earlier joined in the daily dance of teasing access for tourists eager to walk where She, in a matter of mere hours, would make her inexorable presence known. Now, paddling where we had once stood a short time before was as incredible as it was humbling.

It was a trip that I’ll remember forever, but it wasn’t the ocean, or the Cabot Trail, as amazing as they may be, that has been imprinted on my mind. It was the time together, with you.

The road stretches out endlessly before us and beyond the obvious accounting of distance remaining, we push it from our minds. This isn’t about the distance, for that is immutable and must be accepted, it is about the journey.

REO Speedwagon plays on the radio, their voices harmonizing perfectly with the road beneath us as we speed towards the rest of our lives together. I look over and you, somehow already knowing I was going to gaze upon you before I knew it myself, catch my eye and give me that sweet little smile of yours. You know the one.

We reach toward one another unscripted and our fingers entwine, their digits forming a silent symphony of song celebrating our love for one another, and our passion for living our best lives, together.

It was a great trip but one that I hope merely heralds the beginning of a lifetime of more to come, and celebrates regardless of the destination, the journey together.

R.T. Pleiades

We haven’t done this…yet, but if we did here’s my take on it.

The convertible, a zippy little number, squeals its tires as it grips the bend in the road. You squeal as well, and we both laugh as we live for the day.
I look over at you as the wind rushes through your hair, lifting it, caressing it, and then casually tossing it everywhere. Carefree, just as you are, and always have been. You look around and your eyes light up, illuminated by the sunlight dancing off the ocean’s slick surface. It hugs the road in its endless embrace and as they fade into the distance as one, they beckon us forward…together.
I steady the car out and then steal a look at you and my heart stops. As it always does. I am yours, lost in your love and steady in my devotion. And I am grateful for this and every stolen moment with you.
I need not steal it, I know. But I am greedy and therefore, cannot get enough. I am a shameless thief of any and all time with you, and when it comes to you, I would do it over, and over again.

RT Pleiades

Sometimes, when we least expect it, regardless of whatever else we may be encountering in our lives…life happens. And it can be shitty. Words however, need be said.

I stand by Your grave and look around the clearing at all the many spots where belly rubs were dispensed with joyous abandon, while together we gazed upon the stars overhead.
My heart threatens to collapse upon itself as I feel the loss of our companionship tear my soul in two.
Never again will the outdoors feel the same. Where once the sun shone and warmed my heart now a chill will forever more creep into my bones, as I walk these now lonely forest trails without you.
Our last night together seemed as though it could go on forever, or at least that’s how I wished it could be. The stars twinkled down upon us with their white light, offering distraction with their cold beauty.
But nothing could distract me from the fact that I was going to lose you, that this was goodbye.
You were, and always will be, my best friend. You were our Olympian, in all that you were, and we’re forever humbled in knowing you.

Last year I finally got off my ass and committed to writing and publishing a story. I had no idea as to how much time it was going to take me, nor how hard it would be to get to those last two words. As it would turn out, 10 months later, I have finally typed them. I’m not sure it’s a particularly good read, and in fact if I were to be honest I’d have to say it’s a bit ‘light’ in substance. However, it is a story full of passion, fear, insecurity, love, and hope. It’s my first shot and I know I’ve so much more to learn about writing, but it’s been one hell of an amazing ride, and I can’t wait to do more. Like it, or lump it, at least I did it.