New Life!

IT'S OFFICIAL!!!!


I'm registered for a major in English and minors in Creative 


Writing, Honors, and Bible!!! 


The air in fresh and clean. I'm filled with excitement as life


begins again! :)

"Day Job"

Don sighed as he swung open the door of the downtown Chicago coffee shop. The late fall day had a bit of a nip to it and the smell of the special of the month, “Spiced Pumpkin Latte,” swirled through the darkened wood interior. Abi, the chipper barista, smiled up at him as she finished wiping off the black countertop during a momentary lull. “Working late again, Mr. Morgan?” She had a special fondness for the elderly regular. 

“Yes, Abi. I suppose I am.”

“Weren’t you supposed to be taking it easy? Doctor’s orders? Something about only mornings?”

“That was the plan.”

Abi looked teasingly at her watch, saying, “Well?”

“Home is just too quiet–I get bored.”

“You could always come clean my place and watch little Jenner.” They exchanged smiles over the thought of him chasing her mischievous two year old son around Chicago. “No deal, eh? Oh well. What can I get for you today?”

“Hmm, today... a medium of the French roast with a shot of the hazelnut flavoring, I think.” He hoped that would help get rid of his throbbing headache.

“Alright. I’ll bring it over to your table.”

“Thanks, Abi.” Don made his way over to his usual table with the two tall barstools in the corner and pulled the worn notebook from his small Italian leather briefcase. He turned to the first blank page and smoothed out the crinkled corner with his thumb. Thinking back over Abi’s comment about watching Jenner, he sighed. He had three grandchildren of his own but probably knew more about Abi’s son than about any of them. His kids probably wouldn’t even let him take care of them if he asked to. They kept him at a distance. Conversations were sparse and cold. And he knew it was his own fault. “If only I knew then what I know now! It didn’t have to be that way! I thought that it was normal to sacrifice your family on the altar of business. And where did that get me? One of the top businessman in Chicago and a family who won’t say more than ten words to me at one time.” His eyes fell to the death grip he had on his pen and he forced himself to relax. That was the reason he was writing this. He had seen so much in his lifetime, been so many interesting places, spoken with so many fascinating people. He wanted to tell his family all about it, but they wouldn’t listen, maybe later they would read about it. He took a sip from the cup that Abi had placed on his table and started in where he had left off.

By the time Abi glanced up, the cab had already crashed through the glass and mowed down two tables. The driver’s door flew open and Frankie jumped out. “One Iced White Mocha Latte, please.” 

“Frankie,” Abi said scowling, “does this look like a drive thru to you?”

“Hey, I’m sorry, I meant to hit the breaks, I really did. But a customer is a customer and mine is in the back of that cab and wants his drink. It’s urgent, you know?”

Abi pulled out a stack of forms and slammed it on the counter. “You know the drill. Fill these out and I make the drink. We just got the window fixed from last month’s “urgent customer!”

“Frankie? Frankie Smirnenski?” Don asked, rising from his table.

“Donnie?” Frankie said in disbelief. “It’s really you! I haven’t seen you since the ten year reunion! How’ve ya been?”

“You know Mr. Morgan?” Abi asked, turning from the drink she was preparing.

“Yeah! We were college roommates way back!”

Don picked his way over the broken glass and wood fragments. “You left after taking that creative writing course, right? What happened to those plans?”

“Oh,” Frankie said with a grin, “this is just my day job!” 

"News"

Amy was glad for the cover of darkness as they pulled out of the driveway. She glanced over at her husband, Paul, who was driving, as she worried her lip. What would he think of her news? She hoped he’d be happy, but she wasn’t sure anymore. Lately he’d been acting a little strange. There had been several times when she’s caught him just frozen in place over common things, like the view from their backyard overlooking the wooded mountains or turn around and find he was quietly watching her make the morning coffee in their kitchen. He always seemed like he was trying to soak it all in, memorize every detail. It was just different. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to happen. “Relax Amy,” she told herself. “You go out for dinner every Friday night. Nothing’s going to be different. You’re just worried about ‘the news.’ Just enjoy yourself!” Her mini pep talk were completely interrupted as Paul violently swerved to the left, muttering something under his breath. “Was it a deer?” she asked, but before the words were all the way out he swerved to the right and they were flying down an access road. 

“Paul? What’s going on?”

“Just trust me, Aim.”

Her heart rate began to slow back down as they followed the road and turned onto another highway. She forced a steady exhale but just then a truck came over the top of the hill from the opposite direction veering crazily in and out of their lane at high speeds.

“Really?” Paul asked. “I thought I’d lost them!”

Amy looked over at Paul’s white knuckled grip on the steering wheel and questioned “Who are they?” The question hung in the air, unanswered as Paul focussed on evading the approaching truck. Just when they would clear one vehicle another would pop out of seemingly nowhere and try to run them down or force them off the road. Turn after turn, road after road, the chase continued. Amy had long given up trying to keep track of where they were and was just grateful that Paul had grown up in this area. He knew each possible route like the back of his hand. 

Finally they turned down a a long dirt road that snaked its way into a darkened valley. There was no sign of their pursuers and Paul had slowed down a bit since turning their lights off. The back window was cracked so they would be able to hear anything out of the ordinary for the sleepy valley. He turned to her partway. “I’ve stayed too long already. I’m going to have to leave.” The silence hung between them. “For a while.”

“Not now,” Amy said, tears beginning to quietly course down her cheeks.

“Look Amy, I know this is hard. But we both knew it would probably happen at some point.”

“I know,” she choked slightly, “but not now.”

“Why not now?”

“I’m pregnant.”

The words finally out, she broke down. Paul slammed on the brakes and stared at his wife. He hadn’t expected this. The car stood in the middle of empty meadows interspersed with tall pine trees. For a minute, crickets chirped, then they heard it. Tires screeched and stones flew as their pursuers rounded the corner and began the decline into the valley. Paul floored the gas and they were off again.

Amy collected her thoughts. When it seemed they were clear from the pursuers again she said, “I’ll come with you.”

“You can’t,” he said, his voice riddled with pain.

“But Paul! It’s okay, really! We could get new names, start again, come back to this place in a year or so after all this has been forgotten...”

He raised his hand to stop her. “You know it wouldn’t work, Aim. Two people aren’t nearly as easy to hide as one. And besides, we can’t risk it.”

“Risk what?” she asked, incredulous.

All of the sudden Paul pulled the car to a stop behind an orchard. “I have to do everything I can to keep you safe. Both of you safe.”

Amy felt her world was a tangled mass of rope that had just been jettisoned off a cliff. 

“Get out of the car,” Paul began.

“What?!” Amy cried.

“This is the only way. Just trust me, Aim.” He squeezed her hand and hit the unlock button. “Through the orchard is Aunt Pat’s house. She’ll know what to do. Stay with her and listen to whatever she says. The lights are off now, but when you get inside safely flick the back light twice.”

Amy could only manage a quick nod.

“She’s expecting you, don’t worry. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

Amy threw her arms around him and then ran for the house. Tears blinded her and she tripped and stumbled along the way. She raced up the steps and pounded on the door. Aunt Pat opened it right away.

“Oh Amy. I’m so sorry, dear.”

Amy rushed past her, knowing that each passing second make the difference in Paul’s escape. “The lights. The lights.” She flicked them twice and heard Paul fly down the lane. Her job done, she let herself slide down onto the floor and weep.

"Irish Session"

Notes swirling through the air

songs of love, whiskey, beer.

Fingers fly on keys and strings,

Feet tap and people sing.

"Search"

Eyelids droop and shoulders stoop

people drift away from groups.

They wind their way through the crowds

in search of somewhere not quite so loud.

"The Writing Pad"

Strolling along forgotten paths,

I came across a writing pad.

Its pages were unlined and blank.

It demanded I bring it ink.

Pen in hand, finally,

I opened it up reverently.

“Listen closely, my friend,” it said.

“You’ve much to learn and naught to dread.”

"Spring Haiku"

Rain turns into snow.

The branch dons its icy coat.

Spring will come someday.

"Vision"

The world is filled with smears and smudges,

colors dull gradually.

Learn to interpret blurs as people.

Fill in all you cannot see.

Memories dim of true appearance.

Surely this is all there’s been.

Then handed a piece of glass and metal,

life comes in focus once again.

Textures explode from every surface.

Colors leap with vibrancy.

Witness what you take for granted

in just a glimpse of clarity.

"Maine"

Slipping as I walk down the weathered steps,

acorns roll like marbles.

The healing fog around me wrapped,

each breath revives that which falters.

Acorns roll like marbles

and they fly out from beneath my feet.

Each breath revives that which falters

and a gentle breeze swirls around me.

And they fly out from beneath my feet

The world laughs with me just the same

and a gentle breeze swirls around me.

The trees shake off last night’s rain.

The world laughs with me just the same.

Waves crash upon the opposite shore

while the trees shake off last night’s rain.

I peruse each artsy store.

Waves crash upon the opposite shore

and wildflowers race to intertwine.

I peruse each artsy store,

waving as I caper by.

Wildflowers race to intertwine,

each blossom smiling up at me,

waving as I caper by,

wandering past the old pine tree.

Each blossom smiling up at me

as I breath in the salty air of Maine.

Wandering past the old pine tree

where the mountains meet the sea.

"The World of the Expected"

We laugh and run,

sing and play.

Dance and dream each

day away.

Imagining

comes naturally.

Art, our language.

Verve, our key.

But now our world,

of free joy,

is threatened through

toxic ploy.

A choice to us 

they present:

accept the ghosts 

or dissent.

The ghosts chose to 

join the hoard

of those who had

turned before.

Conforming to 

the molds cast:

one becoming

like the rest.

Abandoning

artistry,

desensitized

to beauty.

This same choice they 

give us now.

Requiring a

deathly bow.

Take courage all!

Resist their ways,

reject their call

to the world of the expected.

Only today

At fourteen I caught a vision,

I was convinced it was from You.

Through it I filtered all decisions,

striving always to stay true.

Those plans, that ambitious scheme,

mapped out my life from here to death.

I started chasing this grand dream–

it demanded every breath.

At sixteen I caved to doubt–

reassessing each option,

certain to find a new way out,

something else to engage in.

But I felt You led me back

so I took that leap of faith.

I continued down that track.

It seemed a dismal twist of fate.

Downward I spiraled to despair

begging You for fitting answers.

Each day, more apart my soul did tear

like in some vicious form of cancer.

Finally I cried, “No more!”

Life ground to a screeching halt

as I ditched these plans abhorred,

not knowing if I was at fault.

Then there fell a deathlike silence,

which grew scarier each day.

I feared a charge of noncompliance

but still saw no other way.

I have learned to love that stillness,

freed from the constant grip of plan.

Embrace each moment and don’t stress,

to rediscover who I am.

I know now life plans are futile–

simply options in your head–

but they can become quite brutal.

Give me just this day instead.

So long I begged You to tell me

what Your will for my life was.

Now I just ask You guide this minute.

Help me commit to You this day.

I was recently reminded that we only have today. And yet we foolishly try to plan out the next several years. This just sets us up for disappointment later because we will never be able to envision the future with total accuracy. Just today. Treasure today. When you speak to someone, forget the rest of the world for that moment. You only know you will see them today. 
What will we do with today?

The unlocking of mind

Music is the key that unlocks my mind. Don't get me wrong, I can think without it. But what I accomplish without it pales drastically when compared to what can be accomplished with it. My preferred styles are classical and Irish, in both cases it has to be without words. I don't really know how it works. Something about it lets my brain lock onto it and then the floodgates fully open. I realized recently how I often am not thinking in terms of words, but in terms of melody and feeling. Yet somehow when I am trying to write, to allow myself to be occupied with a song frees up the words otherwise hidden in the depths of the great unknown. It seems to be my most multipurpose tool: it helps me go to sleep and helps me wake up, I use it when I am too bored, excited, happy or sad to communicate in any other way, and, as just mentioned, I use it when writing. Thank God for music!

Of dogs and people, peace and love: What is this world?

    How do we live in a world that is so hardened and crass that life is thought of with such flippancy?
    Today I read about a man who's dog was getting to be so old that it embarrassed him to think of what his neighbors must think, so he decided to put it down. WHAT?!?!?!?!!! It's not like we're talking about an uncomfortable pair of shoes or a wardrobe malfunction, "Oh, it embarrassed me, I think I'll just get rid of it." THIS IS LIFE that we're dealing with here!!!
    What does this say about our relationships? What does it say about how we value anything outside of ourselves? "Well, if it doesn't suit your purposes then discard it." So DISGUSTING!!! And to think of the people that are affected and the animals that are being held at their mercy! Now, you might be saying to yourself, "Joy, calm down. You're freaking out over a dog. It's just a dog. And it was old. Not a big deal." YES! This all started because of hearing about an old dog. But here is an important point: it is not just a dog. People argue, "Look, they are animals. They are here for us to aid us in labor and to be food for us. That is their purpose in life." The way I see it is if it is breathing, it needs to be cared for and protected and even the things that aren't breathing need to be treated with respect. It might start with dogs, but people are and will be treated even more in like manners if we don't take a stand.
    What would it look like to get a piece of land (which would have to be bought because of the system), but then just to let everyone use it? People would have to agree to a set of guidelines, simply to live in harmony with the land, nature and each other. Such a set of guidelines would be in place to gently encourage those involved to live up to their ultimate potential/happiness/peace. It would be a place where nature belonged to all and was respected and supported by all.
    This brings me to another point. I am reminded again that people are often encouraged to pursue money and happiness and fulfillment while being fed the lie that the two options are really one and the same. Using our talents to the fullest often means that we don't make as much money as what would otherwise be possible. Is that actually bad, though? To be fully human, we must value humans more than the little pieces of paper and metal that we are so fond of accumulating. What does it look like to live as though the money doesn't matter? To live in a way that does truly value people more?