Faith! Family! Freedom! Might just be all there really---Is!
In one etermal instant the only mercy-blessing will be...His!
Plus:
Cadenced Future
Where defiled
time escapes like magic dust on a magician’s wand
Revere the been,
embrace what is, brave greet new promised dawn
Perhaps! Lament
challenge-chance wind-swirled mirage of a gone yesterday
Better? Expect!
Best? Demand! Important Most? Forget-me-not to oft play
For thou shall
pass this way by here but once never to return
Cast aside
material; respect-love a simple deserved discern
Usurp not
grandeur-pride elite wrapped in pure mantle humble
Courageous
journey life-footfall recover errant falter stumble
And, from new
light, past high noon sun to dimming dusk time night
Refuse seductive
evil worry-fear, eschew obfuscated untrue sight…
Soft,
pale light gently teased a grey-black celestial abyss like a lover’s tender
caress sparking emotional stirrings intent on eventual raw passions as the
eventual orange-glow arc of promised warmth breached the eastern horizon in its
never ending daily assault while the confines of dark night silently retreated
from the conquering new-day dawn-birth. Growing in magnitude, the yellow hue
subtly brightened the ocean sky of deep cerulean clarity, slowly, but, with
purpose, streaking descending whitewash rays to touch the immaculate glass
gleaming tension of a twelve foot high wall of panoramic splendor opening upon
a vast ocean vista of pristine breaking surf perfection. Pure white soft sands
embraced lulling wave-crests edging blue waters in an idyllic presentation of
comforting solitude. Ah! Life is good! And, also, what one makes it!
Twice
his eyes had glimpsed the teasing dawn through narrowed slits; he had not
stirred for fear of disturbing the sleeping loveliness beside him as her
rhythmic peaceful breathing announced restful slumber which soothed his ears.
Ever so gently, the man allowed his finger tips to caress the errant tendrils
of her auburn hair softness splayed across the pillow like a deep- burnished
golden halo-radiant aura-glow; he inhaled her delicate femininity-fragrance.
A
slight laugh escaped his lips in the near dark of night slipping
surreptitiously into cool dawn’s promised day; often, over some forty years of
love for this flawless specimen of womanhood, he had told her that she still
smelled like the fifteen-year-old beauty he had first dared to kiss so long
ago. The lady always smiled at that loving admission; it seemed she
delightfully smiled genuinely perpetually.
Slipping
from the bed and moving to the interior balcony railing above the spacious
living room below, he gazed across the twenty foot distance to the wall of
windows facing the ocean vista. In the quiet of the room, the scene appeared as
a movie setting on a giant full life-screen.
Standing
before the panoramic vista view of the mighty blue Pacific splendor, he marveled
at the greatness of the natural world taking in the special features of early
morn; sun bathed the environment as it sparkled the surf to life and a light
from a far off ship on the horizon betrayed its position as it rode undulating
folds within a green-sea blanket’s ebb and flow of three foot swells topping a
frothy crest to slide demurely down its placid trough, bobbing like the red and
white fishing cork on the line of a cane pole which he remembered from his
Midwest youth.
After
shaving and showering, an entrenched daily routine performed prior to taking on
the blessings and challenges of another offered day, he dressed in casual
attire donning white slacks without cuffs held up by a stylish rope belt, a red
silk Hawaiian shirt sporting large, bright yellow tropical island flowers
neatly tucked into the waistband of the trousers and medium tan deck shoes;
sans socks, of course. This dress style he laughingly referred to as: My west
coast Gentleman’s suit. Then, he gently kissed his wife’s forehead, not meaning
to awaken her.
“Good
morning, my husband,” the lovely creature breathed, smiling; he kissed her
cheek.
“Good
morning!” He replied with enthusiasm. “And, a very fine day it is, too.”
She
laughed at his youthful exuberance, appreciating the childlike innocence of
expectations.
“Sun’s
up; sky’s clear; surf is beautiful; the birds are singing. And you are lovely.”
He
took her hand, rubbing its softness against his freshly shaved cheek.
“Stay
right where you are, my dear. This day,” he bowed, “I shall serve you breakfast
in bed.”
She
shook her head, bouncing wavy auburn curls reminding him of her teen years.
That
she might protest his kind offer, he knew, was in no way intended to belittle
his intended courtesy or to infringe upon his fun; her nature was to be the one
doing the pleasing. She loved him for his polite manner as he did for her own;
such mutual admiration intensified their love.
“All
right!” He announced, trying to sound formally insulted. “I should know better
than to try to ‘baby’ you; though,” he winked, “I do it all the time.” He
patted her hand.
She
leaned forward and kissed his freshly shaved cheek inhaling the fresh scent.
“Yes!
You most certainly do; and, I appreciate every effort.” She smiled. “I love
you!”
“Okay!
Dear lady!” He acquiesced, “I’ll get breakfast and be waiting when you come
down.”
With
a quick-as-a-flash peck on her soft cheek and tender squeeze of her hand, he
was off.
Twenty
minutes later, the man paused in his kitchen duties as she descended the open,
polished brushed-aluminum railed stair case radiating a tempting smile of
announcement. She wore stark white Capri pants, a lime green front button type
satin blouse and tan sandals. Some “walked” down stairs clinging tenaciously to
the bannister, this lady literally floated, attesting to her “angelic” persona,
as her man regularly affirmed with verbal compliments.
He
whistled lowly to compliment her beauty and met her at the bottom of the stairs
where he took her gently in his arms and tender-kissed her inviting lips.
“Well!”
He said, his eyes caressing her beauty. “I do believe I’d like to get to know
this lady.”
She
laughed at his teasing, feigning demure embarrassment, and, in her conjured
very best faux southern drawl, announced, “Dear Sir, I do believe that the sophisticated
gentleman already knows the innocent lady---Well!” She bowed, adding, “Quite well! In fact. If memory serves.”
Returning
her coquette with a formal bow, he said, simply, “Indeed!” To which, she
laughed.
Escorting
the lady to her green with black dapples aluminum chair with upholstered
flowered seat cushion at the octagonal glass top table tastefully positioned in
the center of a spacious octagon-shaped glass room adjacent to the kitchen
offering a splendid view of the scenic ocean, he gestured to the breakfast
offering he had prepared while the lady had showered and dressed.
“Madam!”
He said in his best French accent. “For your dining pleasure.”
She
took her seat and he occupied the place beside her.
Taking
in the fine breakfast fare while taking note of his attention to detail, she
complimented his efforts, smiling like a school girl on her first formal dinner
date.
“Thank
you, so much for your kindness, dear husband,” she bowed.
“My
pleasure, Madame.” He graciously replied, politely waiting for her to begin
eating.
They
enjoyed orange juice, a mini blueberry muffin, half a pear, sliced and cut to
bite size morsels, half a piece of buttered whole wheat toast and crystal
goblets of ice water. Pleasant conversation about the children and their
“perfect” grandchildren complimented the cuisine.
Having
finished the delectable morning meal and at a slight lull in the conversation,
the man took her hand and inquired, “And, dear lady. What is on the agenda
today?”
“Nothing
special, until two, when the girls are coming over to pick me up for a trip to
the mall,” she smiled as his face took on an injured persona, then, teasingly
added, “and, no, you are purposely ‘not invited’.” She paused, awaiting his
forthcoming comment laced with a lament of exaggerated insulted indignation.
There were times she thought he might have taken acting lessons. She laughed,
thinking that he might better have been the professor teaching such.
Surprisingly,
since her man always had some comment or rebuttal to any and all events, no such
complaint followed though she did detect some modicum of real confusion.
Patting
his hand, she laughed, “Not to worry. The girls are bringing the grandchildren
to babysit---You!” She smiled, broadly. “I think they said something about
bringing their swimming suits for a walk on the beach with ‘Bapa’ and then
swimming in the pool playing “White-stallion rodeo games. You all should be
good and hungry by the time we get home. We’ll surprise you with something
especially good.”
The
old man was all smiles now; these were the seven radiant jewels in his
“life”-crown.
“Great!”
He exclaimed. “Next best thing to being with you is having those children
around.”
She
laughed at his enthusiasm, containing her own excitement as she gave him more
news.
“Not
only are they bringing their swim gear, they’re sleeping over.” She announced,
gleefully.
“Alright!”
He whooped. “Perfect! Perfect! Indeed!” He kissed her cheek.
Standing,
he announced, “Now, let’s finish this breakfast feast with some entertainment.”
He
pulled her to her feet and ushered her into the living room and further toward
the closed French doors at the far wall. Opening them, he led his wife to the
red mahogany baby grand piano which sat in an octagonal room, an exact symmetry
of the breakfast nook, which he had designed and built just for her
delightfully-talented inspirational musical performances.
As
he sat her on the bench before the piano, he said, “You go ahead and warm up
while I clear the table and get things shipshape in the kitchen. Then, if you
please, I’ll just sit and listen to your entertaining acumen. I love to hear
you play the piano. I’ll be ready in five minutes.”
He
kissed her forehead and retired to perform the maid-duties as promised.
Shortly,
he returned, taking a seat in a comfortable chair near the French doors where
he could watch her. She thrilled him with a medley of his, and, her own,
favorites. This was a frequent pastime for the old man and his wife loved to
play. Slender fingers caressed the white keys. While he had zero musical talent,
couldn’t carry a tune or play anything other than a simple radio, he had rhythm
and would drum his fingers or tap a foot to the beat. He had several favorites
and she knew them all. Each time she played, he felt a deeper love for this
lovely vision of his lady; she adored his attentions, and, him.
His
wife’s repertoire encompassed many spiritual selections including “Amazing
Grace”, “The Old Rugged Cross”, “How Great Thou Art”, “Ava Maria” and more. No
matter the season of the year according to the calendar, the lady laid
Christmas snow at his feet with selections of his favorite time of year; after
all, he actually believed in and openly confessed to being “Santa Claus”. And,
the truth was, there were many times that she, and others, wondered at the very
accuracy of such an absurd declaration. Yet, his generosity lent good credence
toward his claim.
She
would have been remiss and disappointed her man had the lady failed to perform
a few selections of his beloved crooner. When “Wooden heart” notes filled the
air, he smiled at her and she returned the kindness as each recalled that warm
summer eve so many decades previous when he had softly whispered the words of
love, singing them gently in her ear while tenderly holding her delicate hand.
He had always harbored a flair for the romantic presentation.
After
an hour and a half of self-enjoyment in the performance of tunes she had
decided upon and playing requests which she elicited from her man, he knew the
concert was concluding when she began her favorite piece which always managed
to bring a tear to his eye, and, to her own, also. Taking a relaxing breath, he
smiled broadly, allowing the notes to satiate a romantic mind.
As
his lady coaxed the notes dancing with high emotion from the ivories, he went
to stand behind her, gently laying his hands on her delicate shoulders and
kissing the top of her head, purposely inhaling the auburn intoxication of her
pervasive feminine spirit.
Wiping
an errant tear, he gently hummed the melody as she lovingly played her
masterpiece: The Tennessee Waltz.
As
another perfectly delightful day gently caressed away its precious allotted
moments, the elegant lady enjoyed a Spartan lunch with her fine gentleman,
holding hands, lost in the love of a lifetime, searching within the awesome
vista of an ocean beach, and finding, the comforting companionship solitude of
exquisite happiness. Later, a mother and her daughters found adventure and
several bags of mall offerings along with memories to add to an album of love;
the old man left footprints in the white sand beach quickly overburdened with
myriad half-sized indentations, swam and played “The White Stallion” in the
pool, greeted the returning reigning mistress of the house and their daughters
with the enthusiasm of the father and the prodigal son and enjoyed a fine
dinner in the presence of the people he loved most, and, best, in this world.
Lying
in bed, cognizant of the dancing wave crests highlighted by an alabaster pale
full moon upon the blue Pacific, just before slumber overcame the old man for
another end to one more perfect event and worthwhile, wholesome adventure, he
prayed a devout “Thank You! Lord!” and slipped into a restful state so as to
kiss the ’morrow dawn while in his head played the melodious notes of his beloved
wife’s masterpiece presentation: The Beautiful Tennessee Waltz.
In
his blessed dreams that night, like many others, came a true realization:
…For I dared
dance love through life refuse respect any demon false
Moment-embraced
perceived passion-sensual choreographed waltz
And, when thy
call comes as each shall find to be so soon too quick
Smile
remembered-dreams lived-wild, delight sweet savor sugar’s lick
A distant
drummer calls the beat, yet each life must contemplate
Then, past; now,
here; such cadenced future for not one be ever late
Amen!
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