This blog will be prone to neglect for the next two weeks due to the happy arrival of my daughter and grand daughter for their yearly visit from the far east. Family festivities on the horizon.
How delightful is the wine of friendship shared once more, full and sweet upon the tongue. It has not bittered, its fermentation only adding to the strength and flavour. I tasted its purity long ago when it was first cast, a new vintage fresh upon the palette. Its long years matured in English oak, the winds and rains, the sunny smiles of Ireland have mellowed the flavour yet it still remains unique, priceless, a draft to be savored.
(Flash fiction inspired by 70’s rock documentary)
It seemed so long ago when life was young and every dream possible, when Hendricks clave the air in wild notes that punctuated the “Stars and Stripes” with Vietnam bombs, when fields of tents orchestrated a new era of peace and love.
She’d been young too, had dared believe the dream. All had faded to ashes. Big business took over, exploited the music and milked the ideals to the last dollar. Yet the letter lay in her hand, white, pristine, unsoiled. Would he be the same she wondered? There was only one way to find out.
Boarding the greyhound bus, she looked back one last time. Was she fooling herself? It was forty years since she last saw him, a shadow in khaki lined up for slaughter. They had led separate lives, made their own concessions as dreams withered.
He’d sent no picture. She’d know him by his white cowboy hat he’d said.
“You’re crazy!” she told herself again as she disembarked clutching the bus tickets he’d sent in clammy fingers. Then she saw it – the wheelchair! Her stomach churned, heart melted at the hat hanging from the back, the white Stetson. Its owner looked up and smiled, waving her over.
“Are you the missy looking for a guy in a cowboy hat?” She nodded.
“He’s helping get my bags…. said I should look out for you.”
She raised her eyes to meet the sparkling ones approaching. Time may fly blowing much away, but some things never changed…
Off to the Sea!
Yes, I’m off for 5 days of long walks along the beach (I love the sea intensely no matter what the weather), traditional English pub lunches, and endless chats with my big sister (it’s only once a year so my sweet brother in law just retreats behind his newspaper and pretends he’s not there. lol!)
Such times always bring out the child in us. Though by calculation I know she’s 71 I find it very hard to believe. In looks, energy and personality I’d guess her to be in her late 50’s (we had a giggle when one of the lifeboat guys tried to chat her up last time I was there!)
We’ll eat the trout my brother in law caught and veggies from his allotment along with the bottle of wine I’m bringing, and His canine shooting partner will look at us eating with those big spaniel eyes. Yes, reunion will be sweet.
I’ll trade my beloved lakes for the sea for a while, breathe in the fresh spray, listen to the soothing waves and the sea birds screams and in doing so realise why my sister seems so young.
(Of far flung friends I seldom see – photo from bing).
It’s oh so good to see them when parted oh so long,
The hugs and friendly greetings that lend the heart a song.
The smile that bares a tremble, the tear that dims the eye,
The subtle, soft, remembrance of days that have gone by.
It seems too much to soak it in when love floats all around,
Another, yet another, of times voices coming round.
The smiles now bare more wrinkles than when you knew them first,
But time and tide can not erase; the spirit from them bursts.
And all are in remembrance of sweet times so long gone by
The times when we were young and free and we had fun, oh my!
I hear now in the echoes of vintages grown old
The hearts refined in times harsh hand have turned at last to gold.