Vineyard (Photo credit: byronpeebles)
Well, heaven knows that I would be wise to be in bed right now. How my long-suffering wife tolerates me is a mystery. But, something has come into my mind that refuses to wait to be expressed.
Typing it is a challenge, too . . . all because of an exceptional bottle of Chambourcin from Fox Meadow Winery near Front Royal, VA. It is an exquisite wine – WAY too easy to drink, and it makes my already stupid fingers even more prone to mistakes.
Anyway, I guess that I was about ten or eleven years old when I experienced one of the most wonderful feelings in my life up to that point.
My childhood was not easy. My father was a Disabled Veteran as a result of a bullet wound incurred during his stint in the Army during the Korean conflict. He lost the use of his left hand and, worse yet, he had sever post-traumatic stress disorder – a condition that didn’t even have a name back then. Oddly, I suffer from the same condition as a result of combat experiences while in the Navy; like father, like son.
My mother was a control freak and, for all intents and purposes, physically and emotionally abusive to me and my brother whenever her day didn’t go the way she wanted, (which, apparently, was pretty often). As you might imagine, I looked forward to opportunities to be free.
So what is it that “felt so good?” It was the sun.
One of the happiest memories of my childhood, (and I do not have many), is that of sitting on the curb in front of my house, my arms crossed upon my knees, head resting on them, and feeling the morning sun as it warmed my back. The birds were singing, the neighborhood was quiet, and the warmth and silence was an exquisite experience. To this day, I cannot recall a better feeling than that peaceful, warm feeling.
Unfortunately, it didn’t last long, as one of my friends from the neighborhood disturbed my repose, thinking that something was wrong – because I was sitting on the curb with my head on my arms. In fact, for a few moments, everything was right.
No lesson here – just a memory that insisted on being shared.
Many Blessings To All…
LOTD
February 18, 2012 at 17:37
“…(the) quiet, and the warmth and silence was an exquisite experience.”
What a deep, but also uplifting feeling your words evoke.
Warm sunbeams bringing the glittering-essence of “the soul-way”, birds singing to a quiet but awakening heart: Those beautiful little gifts of Gaia offering us tiny dips into godliness that remind us that we chose to be human; a moment to breathe deeply, and hum, maybe.
The homing-beacon of the soul never fails, does it? It illuminates the beauty of our physical-reality as surely as it directs us and connects our humanity to our godliness.
The part of your story that touches me most is that someone cared enough to see if you were alright. (If it was a round-faced, golden-haired girl with scraped knees – sitting crossed-legged with face-tilted, offering you juice – it could have been the spirit-of-me: with good intentions, but not always good sense
)
Thank-You, Lord Risinghawk.
May quiet, warm silence be yours as you wish, as you will. NAMASTE _(♥)_
February 19, 2012 at 16:28
Thank you! Unfortunately, it was a toe-headed, narrow-faced boy from across the street
His purpose in life, most of the time, was to get me in trouble!
February 19, 2012 at 17:48
What a li’l brat! “Playing with girls” does have advantages…well, juice & bandaids at least
February 19, 2012 at 19:02
I always did prefer to play with girls . . . still do
Although I was just too tough to use band-aids. Haha!
February 20, 2012 at 14:44
((☺))