Sunday, June 10, 2018


            I have just been told I am leaving earth.  I can take one memory with me.  Just one.  I choose this:

          Sometimes in the morning, as I sink into the porch swing, the wind comes rushing up the mountain, as though to greet me. 
        A lone turkey, who has survived a shotgun blast, or who is just exploring and got lost, may scuttle across the edge of the yard, not minding me and my cup of coffee at all.  Turkeys are usually always in a gang, so one is an unusual sight.  Today a male ambled behind a female, keeping a safe distance, because she appeared to be in a tiff – pouting about something, perhaps?
        Sometimes a giant hawk suddenly sails through the air in that open space between my house and the woods.  I see a silent screech of brakes - landing gear down – legs long, claws extended and slicing through the sky.  The wingspan casts a large shadow.  He sees something I am not privy to on the sloping spot covered with tall grass and rocks.
        A blue bird perches at the door of the new house I have crookedly attached to a tree (so I can easily spy).  He pokes his head inside the small round hole, inspecting.  Is this a good spot for the second batch of eggs?  He flies off and in a few minutes, returns and goes inside.  Abode approved!
        I hear a single bird plaintively calling and then a whole mess of them, trying to outdo one another in the mountain choir. 
        Sometimes I sit all the way through the sunset and well into the darkness.  I watch trees that can’t sleep because the wind keeps them busy waving on through the night.  I hear the whippoorwill with his relentless cry.  Why say it so many times, birdie?
        Lightning bugs compete with the stars that twinkle through the tops of the trees.  Who knew they could fly so high?
        Serenity.  Happiness. Joy.  Who knows what the real word is?
        In the Bible, it says God know the desires of my heart.  It also says He went away to prepare a place for me.  ME.  If it is true that He knows everything I long for, I will not have to take the sweet memory of porch sittin’ with me.  A porch and a swing will be waiting for me when I get to my permanent home.
        But I would take this one memory – just in case….
        Porch sittin’.

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