Archive for Some truth to it

The Sun Came Up Again

I wrote this one spring morning in 1998. It’s one of my favorites, because it’s real and it was what I was thinking and feeling that morning. When I came across it again on this cloudy morning, I thought maybe it could be the beginning of a novel. The title would be attention getting too, don’t you think? I believe it would most likely be a tale about never giving up, which would be fitting. I need to write… something.

the sun came up againThe Sun Came Up Again

The sun came up again, across the street, in the neighbor’s yard, through early budding tree limbs. The sky glowed fiery red, then golden, then dazzling white, as another day began. A slash of light fell ‘cross my arms as I wrote, and the thought crossed my mind I’d said too much, heard too much, and suddenly… things had changed. I wondered if they had changed for the better. I hoped so. I’ve changed things before, by being too open. Too honest. I’ve watched the sun come up, regretting words I’d spoken the day before, things I’d done. You would think I’d learn. I have learned. I’ve learned the sun will come up. Sometimes you will see it and feel it, sometimes you won’t, but it’s there.

And I’ve learned love is like that. At times you can bask in its warmth and feel its arms wrapped around you. A flash of it will lay across your heart. Then… at other times, it falls silent and cool. It’s still there, just not as obvious. The thing is, you have to know it’s there. Never doubt it. Never turn away. Just know that behind the cloud, behind the mountain, behind whatever has made the warm glow fade… It is there. You have to let it be there. You have to want it to be there. It can’t always be glorious. It can’t always be spring.

Copyright © 1998 C Mashburn

 

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It’s Not My Job!

Was taking my morning walk when I spotted three ladies standing together talking, and as I got closer, I recognized two of them from our PACE group at the health club. Didn’t know the third one. They were too “busy” to notice me, so when I was about twenty feet away, I yelled, “Ah’ight, y’all spread out!” I will NOT do THAT again!

Okay… to be honest, what I said next probably caused the scene that followed. “I think I’ll just come over there and hug all three of you.” THEN:

karate womanOne of them bolted into the trees, one screamed and threw her phone at me, and the one I didn’t know grinned a wicked grin and took this odd looking Karate Kid type stance.

I managed to outrun the Karate Gal, but I gotta tell you folks, this social distancing thing is henceforth out of my realm of responsibility. I will, however, keep my distance from groups of more than two women on the walking trail.

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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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Simpler Times

This is a melancholy sort of poem but, just so y’all know, I’m not sad. In fact I’m very much at peace and have great hope for the future. I do, however, often look longingly at the way things used to be. I think we all tend to do that. I hope you enjoy the poem.

Those Times Ago 

 

Eyes closed, I smiled and imagined

A full moon hanging low in the sky

Looking like a shiny pearl button

On a dandy cowboy’s shirt

 

Sequin stars glittered

On a blouse of blue-black silk

While in the distance cattle lowed

And coyotes yipped and howled

 

When I opened my eyes

It all faded to cold hard truth

The hot dry grass on my neck

And burning tears I wouldn’t let fall

 

City traffic whirred nearby

Distant sirens pierced the night

A neighbor screamed angrily

At her laughing children

 

I gazed up at the dingy sky

Closed my eyes and tried to recall

Those times so long ago

When hope still lived within me

 

Times when stars twinkled

The man in the moon smiled

And parents, tired from their day

Murmured and chuckled softly

 

just us kids 2 (2) quoteGliding in the old wooden swing on the porch

Smiling, looking forward to tomorrow

While in the moon-shadow of a tree

Children tittered secret laughter

 

I wondered when the world had changed

And wished we could go back

To when life was simple; those times ago

When hope was more than just a word

 

Copyright © 2011 C. Mashburn

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This… Is How I Roll

3-6-17 4 quote

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The Meaning of Life

butter on toast quote

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Blown Away

panhandle treeThe Texas Panhandle is a place where you can stand knee-deep in mud and have sand blow in your face. The wind blows so hard there, and so often, the trees all lean the same way. As I stood in the muddy street—not knee-deep by any stretch of the imagination—I could attest to half the saying being true. Gritty sand stung my cheek as I stood staring at the old house. It leaned to the east, and I couldn’t decide if the wind had pushed it that way, or it was somehow alive and straining to look around me with its two dark eyes. It spoke to me in groans and creaks, and I found it sad. I tried to recall the love and laughter that had once filled it; the singing on the porch, the smell of frying chicken and biscuits made from scratch. The memories, much like the sand, had a sting to them, so I turned and walked away.

This post is a part of SoCS ~ https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/24840312/posts/2589351338

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And There They Were

I’d left the door open, and they’d invited themselves in. A hoard of them. Enough to make a village if allowed to stay. But, I thought, it will only encourage more, and soon there’d be no room for the car. So, I grabbed my trusty blower and shooed them out into the cloudy day. I could barely hear them over the blower, but it was apparent they thought I’d invented a new game, and with each sweep of the blower they chittered laughter and raced around to re-enter their new-found home. I found it un-amusing and doubled back to chase them again. Eventually, I won the battle. Or so I thought.

leaves in the garageAs soon as I shut down the blower, I heard a tittering behind me. I whipped around, and there they were, all in a row. I swear they we’re stifling more laughter and were being perfectly still, perhaps thinking I wouldn’t see them there. It was like looking at a group of children, squeezing their eyes shut tight. Smiling… thinking their closed eyes made them invisible. I couldn’t help it; I laughed out loud and then watched them titter and skitter beneath the car. I shut the garage door and let them stay.

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Who’d A Thunk It?

IMG_20171016_150100797_HDRDay number 25,202 started like most of the last 1000 or so; about three cups of coffee and some sweet cakes—always have to have something sweet with my coffee—been doing that every morning for about 35 or so years. That said, I then read our morning devotional, and Sherry and I talked about God and our many blessings for a bit. We’ve been doing that for almost 24 years now. After that, I did a four-minute plank, then Mom called and we talked about God, which is mostly what we talk about in our weekly chats. And then, I put on my shoes and was about to walk out the door and take a quick five-mile walk, when son, Bill called. We talked for a good while—we always do—but I had to smile after we hung up. I told Sherry I knew it was my birthday, because Bill let me talk quite a bit. We laughed, because she knows when Bill calls, he usually does most of the talking. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. I love to listen to him and get the low down on what him and his boys are up to. When Trevor and Nathan were playing football in high school, Bill would call on Saturday or Sunday and literally give me a play by play of Friday night’s game. Being so far away was hard—never getting to see the boys play ball—but Bill’s account of the games took away some of the pain. So, anyway, after we talked, I went for that five-mile walk, then came back and fixed me and Sherry a PB&J on some of my grilled homemade jalapeno bread. (Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it.) Now—it’s straight up noon—I’m going to run to the store, then come back and mow & trim the yard. Probably take it easy the rest of the day, then go out for a celebratory dinner this evening. Early evening, of course. I mean, after all, I’m 25,202.5 days old, ya know. Who’d a thunk I’d last this long?

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What Did He Say!?!?

angelI don’t think anyone will argue when I say, Charlie ain’t no angel. I don’t have time to list all the bad things I’ve done, said, or thought. Take the “said” thing for instance. I’m not proud of some of the language I’ve used and let me assure you that though I use the past tense, it’s more recent than I want to admit. Like, oh, an hour ago. Yep. My daddy wasn’t no sailor, but when it comes to cussin’, I couldn’t have had a better instructor. Or worse, depending on how you look at it.

My most recent outburst occurred this morning (twice), when I messed up the jalapeno bread (twice). In retrospect, it was comical. Except for the water and jalapenos and cheese, I put the ingredients in the bread maker last night. Then, at 6:00 A.M., I added the cheese and jalapenos, and started the machine. It takes four hours to complete the cooking cycle; rest, mix, rise, mix, rise, mix, bake. But as the machine began to mix for the second time (two hours into the process), I noticed it didn’t sound like it normally does at that point. As I was opening the lid, I saw the water, still in the measuring cup, sitting beside the machine. I didn’t use all the words the old man taught me, but I think I got most of them in.

So! Off to the store I went to get another jalapeno! Got home, cleaned the machine, and put in another batch. Thirty minutes later, when the first mix began, something—AGAIN—didn’t sound right. I opened the lid, and it was apparent the mixing blade was nowhere to be found. I’m fairly sure I got all the words in that time. Dad woulda been proud! Or, not.

Finally found the mixing paddle in the trash with the first “dry” ingredients, and put it in, started the machine again, and I’m hoping the bread will turn out okay. We’ll know in about three hours. And if doen’t, I’ll put together another batch. Won’t be no more cussin… today.

Like I always say, “I’m gettin’ better.” But I sure ain’t no angel.

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