Archive for Good stuff

Amy Works For Us

As they were yesterday, the trees, shrubs and grass alongside the walking path were many shades of green this morning. The sky was the same light blue, and the clouds were still white. But, unlike yesterday there was color on the trail today. Dark Blue.

As I approached the trail, I was met by one of the Longview Police Department’s finest. I’m not shy, and didn’t ask if I could, I simply fell in beside her, asked how she was doing, then we walked and talked for about a mile before turning around and heading back. As we walked, we shared our thoughts about current events, family, and other things. We smiled, waved, and said good mornings to those we met on the trail, and then as we came to the trail head, we shook hands, said our goodbyes and she went to her patrol car. You might ask, “So what’s the big deal?” And, that is exactly my point. She was just people. Just one of us. I feel blessed to live in Longview, Texas, and blessed I was able to spend a few minutes of my day with Amy Works.

Back the blue

We all need a little levity right now, so I’m including humorous little story about an encounter I had with an officer in College Statin, Texas a few years back: Police! Open up!

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Just People

I wrote this Monday after my walk.

no color at all

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The Truest Love

There are times I write something and it seems it’s not me doing the writing. Such was the case with this one. I actually set out to write something entirely different, but this is what came out. Sometimes it’s fun, because folks get all big-eyed and wonder what’s going on at Charlie’s house. It’s all good here, folks. It’s all good.

…………….

Truest love

 

Copyright © 2020 C Mashburn

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Found Money

I push aside worn shirts looking for my suit. I hate going to these “parties”, but not as much as I hate wearing a suit and tie. I’ll get over it—always do—but the thing is… well, as usual, we’re so broke we can’t pay attention.

The car’s got less than a quarter tank in it, and I got a buck or three to my name until payday. I couldn’t sleep last night, but her! She just gave my shoulder a pat, then slipped right off to dreamland. Then, as I was finally drifting off to sleep, I heard Mom’s voice; “Don’t worry, Charlie. God will provide.” I groaned and answered out loud, “Sure, Mom. Is He gonna leave a twenty under my pillow?”

serendipityThen! Tonight, we’re getting ready and when I shove my wallet into the inside pocket of my suit jacket I feel something. “No way,” I whisper. But yes way! I pull the wallet out, reach back in, and stare at a folded twenty-dollar bill.

She’s in front of the mirror, checking her hair—again—and I grin at her.

“What?” she says, returning the grin.

I give her a playful pat—not on the shoulder—and say, “You look gorgeous. But come on, we have to stop for gas.”

Copyright © 2013 C Mashburn

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A Part of the Whole

a jigsaw puzzle 2 (3)

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Wherever You Are

the drive (2) 12-31-2019

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I Can’t Stop the Bleeding

At that moment I was twelve going on twenty. I’d jumped so far forward in life my head was spinning but, in a strange way, it was all starting to make sense. But it was making sense in a way that made no sense at all. As I looked across the table at my mom, her tears dripping onto the Formica-topped kitchen table, I wondered about love, I wondered about God, I wondered what life was all about. And as all these things raced around in my mind, they began to form the new me—the soon-to-be-a-man me. I suddenly realized, and I admit a tinge of fear accompanied the thought, that I had to—somehow—protect my mom, my brothers, and my sister. From my dad.

~~~~~

The above is an excerpt from a book I began writing last November. I abruptly stopped writing the book, due to a very unexpected circumstance. Most of you are aware of what happened but if not, you can read my post, The World Stopped Turning, for the details. But there’s more to it than that. I simply didn’t, and still don’t, know if I can write the rest of this story.

But, a few days ago, I began reading a book, not by but about, Ernest Hemingway. As I read it, I was inspired, not by his talent, or his person, but by his pain. He was a tormented man, and he was not afraid to display his frailty to the world. He said this about writing:clouds and mountains HemingwayI’m certainly no Hemingway, but I bleed, and I cannot stop the bleeding. I’ll let you know when the book is finished.

Just A Boy

 

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