The face that looked back at him belonged to him. It had his features, but they were obscured by time. He was old.  Not that he was young in any sense. He was down right old to many of the people he now worked with in Hollywood. At forty-two, even thought there were many older than him, the film business had begun to feel like a world for a much younger generation. The winds were changing.  The man the mirror showed Grant had to be in his sixties. He looked much like his father had at his death several years earlier, but with the soft outline of his mother. His skin had lost some of its color, the wrinkles lining it, deeper. Under his eyes were soft puffs of slightly darkened flesh.

Grant’s heart must have been racing, he could hear his blood pumping in his ears. But none of his parts seemed to be working right. His breath came and went in harsh bursts. He could not feel his feet, but surly they were on the floor. If only he could make them move. 

For a second, he had hoped he as in a dream. It felt like one he would have, but he knew it to be useless. He knew reality one always does when in it.

His mixture of practicality and fantastical nature actually helped him in this scenario. He had often wondered what his reaction would be if something catastrophic happened to him or a loved one, now was his chance to find out. It felt like hours before he stepped away from the mirror. His mind racing. How it had happened, he could not fathom. Besides, that was the last on his list. Step one, accept, he had done. There was no other road when it came to that. He had aged, fifteen to twenty years. Denying it would only drag him away from reality.

Looking around the room, everything was the same as the night before. He had paid a little extra for a private room. His door remained locked and had not been disturbed. Whatever had happened to him must be him alone. He called his agent who told Grant he sounded a little tired, but other than that the conversation was nothing out of the ordinary. That was that. The world spun on. Only he had awoken in the body of his future.

He walked to his bed and sat down. His body, worn and aching; his mind reeling.

This surly was the end. The beginning of it, at least. For if this happened today, it could happen any. And so little had he done in his life. The master piece he envisioned in his mind, lay there, waiting for Grant to write it. But instead he had written those which his agent said would get his name out there. Only then was it safe to break the rules. But these new kids did just fine breaking the rules. And now his time waned.

Panic struck.

Time. What a fool he had been to disregard it. All his life, he had listen what he would do “one day”. The list had grown and hardly anything had been marked off. And now, all of those years of planning for a life had caught up with him. the years wasted had built up, crept up, and taken over his body.

He called his agent back.

“Becky.”

“Grant? Are you okay? You just called.”

“I know.” Grant paced the room as he talked. “I just called to say, I am going on a trip.”

Laughter came from the other end of the line. “Is that all? I know Grant. You are researching for…”

“No, I mean I am taking a holiday.” He paused. “I have always told myself I would go to Sweden.”

I took a minute for Becky to respond. “Sweden. You are going to Sweden? Right.” She said, not sounding convinced.

“I mean it. I have done nothing in my life for myself. Everything has been this great build up. And to what? I’ll tell you… old age.”

“You have plenty of time to travel, Grant. But you need to work on the script. They are depending on you.”

“They will have to wait. Or find someone else.” Grant packed his bag, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder.

“What is wrong? You don’t miss deadlines. You don’t run off. Is it writer’s…”

“You know I hate that term. No, I am not blocked. You are right, I do as I am told, and I never take chances.”

“I didn’t say…”

“You said enough.” He waited for her to respond. “Take care, Becky.”

“That sounds like a goodbye.” A hint of irritation mixed with her confusion.

“Maybe it is.” Grand hung up. He tossed the phone out the window and watched it fly over the balcony.

“Or maybe, I am finally saying ‘hello’.”

The last time

Had already been

But just now I heard a song

And thought of you

A burning in my eyes

 Blurred vision

From the tears I said

I would not shed

Remembering

 Those few moments

Looking to

What could have been

What never will

My heart moves on

More each day

Healing a little

With every beat

But right now

I miss seeing you

I miss the friend I once had

All we shared

The words

Spoken

Or seen in each other’s eyes

I will be fine

It gets easier with

Each passing day

But right now

I miss seeing you

A few feet away from the foot of the bed, a white dresser stood against the wall. Photos of a small, smiling family and of a couple young friends, in bright frames, were set against a large mirror. A small jewelry box open to show the prizes worthy of a child’s wonder of the world. The box, the only part of the room that made sense in that unappreciated mindset.

Inside–a leaf, a striking red, pressed between two pieces of clear plastic adhesive. A rock, vaguely in the shape of a heart. A chain of colored paper clips. Candy wrappers. The broken off head of a Barbie. A few notes of “child nonsense”, once passed with giggles and sly glances at an adult in front of the room.  

Watercolor paintings and posters of cartoon characters hung on the walls.

Tracks from a vaccum passed, every way, across the carpet.

Clothes hung limply in the closet. Clean and long-unworn.

The room had been this way for nine months now. The woman, who had not been called “mama” for just as long, lived alone in the cozy, but spiritless house. The man who had once vowed “till death” had left several weeks ago. The unspoken blame that passed between them had grown into an irreversible resentment. 

The woman’s hair, once her pride, now lank and unkept. Her shoulders and head hung, lacking the will to hold them up to their former hight.

If anyone cared to listen, the house would tell that every day the woman could be seen in the room, straightening the pillows. Needlessly smoothing the bedspread. Shuffling her feet as she pushed the vacuum over the carpet. Dusting. Unfolding and refolding the clothes in the dresser. Never once touching the jewelry box. Her face, blank. The tears, she kept for the nighttime. For the woman did not want the child to walk in and see her weakness. A smile never showed on her face. She kept the smile locked away. For the day when the child walked in the door. For the day when they would bring her back to the life that waited, unchanged.

After each cleaning, she sprayed one of bottles of cotton candy body spray that she stored up in her own room. For a moment, it hung in the air. The particles then drizzled to the floor. She stood at the doorway. Her face, she kept blank. But behind the resolute eyes, could be seen the pain of a broken soul. The combination that had driven away those who had once flocked to the house to comfort. No longer knowing how to act in the woman’s presence. Not admitting to any, including themselves, that they wished she would “just move on”. Out of a universal social-awkwardness, unable to ask her to let them help. Help the woman help herself. To see the life the world still held.

The room remaining as it had been. As it always would. For as long as the woman lived, this room would stay. Waiting for the day when the  child’s laughter would pierce the stale walls. Bring life back into the comatose air. And once again, the world would make sense. Once again, life would flood the cold, breathless house.

 And so the house passed in a frozen state. Soaking up all it saw. Screaming what no one could hear. Silent. Unmoving. Forever seeing. Never seen. Giving the answer no soul would accept. Reaching out to hearts that would not take.

Clink.

Bang.

The machine churns out

The result of what we put in

Humanity keeps it going

The War Machine

~

The War Machine

The stench of death

The tears of the innocent

Screaming

Explosions

Blood

Masses in unmarked graves

Pieces of mankind

Left to rot

~

What did they die for?

A word

An idea

Nothing that could

Be worth their LIFE

~

The War Machine

Brings only pain

Always dissapointment

Because somewhere we all know

The payoff could have come

Without the extermination

Without the loss of the most importan thing

LIFE

We forget the beauty LIFE brings

What is worth the loss of it?

Freedom

Democrecy

Honor

Are they worth the loss

Of the most important thing

Or are they just words

Used to bring in the men the women

Come and die!

Die for this word, this idea, we ring out

And say WAR is the only way to obtain it

Lies

All of it

The War Machine knows no truth

~

It all can end

If we want it

WAR can be

A relic of the past

If we put it there

~

Open your mind

To the

End of WAR

End of the praising

of death and distruction

Open to the unity we were meant for

~

The War Machine

Will never bring peace

Forever it will churn

If we let it

If we push our agenda

Put ideas ahead of LIFE

Words can be used

Not only to bring people to WAR

But to prevent it

Action

Words

Peace

Peace.

It can come

If we want it

And we will see an end

See the undoing of

The War Machine

Warm

By myself

But not alone

I turn my head to glance outside

He walks with crutches

Slowly

His long coat blowing in the wind

His grey hair covered by a cap that

Cannot keep out

All the cold

I hope he has a place to go

I hope, with a twinge of guilt

That I will never again see him

On these streets

For than I can imagine him

In his home

Warm by the fire

Sitting next to the love of his

Long life

But I know this not to be the case

He walks on

All he has in the world in the bag under his arm

I cannot forget the wrinkled face

And wonder how he got to be there

 How a baby can grow up to be

On the edge of society

Forgotten by all

Ignored and degraded

By those who believe he got what he asked for

But I know

He is loved by the maker who gave life to us all

No better are we

With our comfortable lives

So why he is out there

And I in here

I will never understand

But I will never again

Try to forget

So enjoy some Beethoven. And watch “The Fall”, if ever you get the chance.

Peace.

At once I look around

Hoping no one could see

Not you

Not anyone

The fact that I too am human

Can fall and scrape my knee

Am not invincible

~

The rain falls on me at times

I hope you don’t mind

You see, I used to stay inside

Till I dried

But with you I want

Something more

~

I cried today

And hid my face

Still struggling to let you in

The wall I have built

Through the years

Tall and strong

Not easily broken

~

I do not yet know

What makes you who you are

Why I want to know you more

Why I am fine with letting you see

All that I have before

Tried to hide

All that I know

Is the truth I now write

That I hope to show you

All that I am

The me I used to hide

I had all of my Christmas shopping. And I knew things might be a little crazy out there, but I went. I guess I just had to feel a part of it all. The world and all it has to offer. I spent the holiday with my family, but the need to see more pulled at me. I drove, music on, thinking about the year. The past year that has gone by all too fast. I went to the bookstore, and got The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet’s Nest (the last book in the trilogy) and to my coffeehouse. In that time I saw the beauty in the people around me and the sights of the coming season of giving and ending year.

I have not had this blog for too long, but one thing I think I have conveyed in the past few months is change. Not a lot has changed for me on the outside this past year, but everything has changed on the inside. This is mainly for myself, but I decided to write down some of the changes I have gone through this past year (or two).

My Diet: A couple of years ago, I learned I have a dairy allergy. Not something you expect to ind out at the age of 20. Cutting something so simple out of my diet changed everything for me. For as long as I can remember it had taken me 1-3 hours to get to sleep each night. Now it rarely takes me more than 20 minutes. A blessed change. I have more energy. Less anxiety. No more stomach aches (I used to think it just meant I was full). I feel all around, more healthy. I thank God  I found this out when I did.

Confidence: This past year, I have come to believe in myself like I never have before. I know i have a lot to learn about who I am and where I am going in this world. But such is life. I believe that is what the 20s are all about. A balance of finding and creating who you are in this world. I used to think little of myself. That state of mind is no longer.

My Job: A large part of this has to do with current job and the bosses I have.  My first job, I had or four years, tore me down. I loved the people i worked with, but my bosses has zero respect for anyone. My job now could not be more different. I am built up and my work is recognised. My bosses are as much my mentors and friends as they are my superiors.

Writing: I have a long way to go in my career, but this past year is where I really have set on striving to be a published writer and hopefully one day make it my full-time career.

Letting Go: There are seasons for all things in life. Letting go is one of them. Most of those in my life I could not let go of fully, even if we grow apart. But I have seen the importance of letting go when the person you are holding on to is doing more harm than good.  Sometimes you just have to move on. Not to forget, but to see what is ahead.

Joy: I am a natural pessimist. I used to be proud of the fact. A part of my rebel side, I suppose. Not wanting to be like everyone else. I have learned how hard it is on a person to look at the negative so often. I made a strive to become an optimist. It is one of the best choices I have ever made. It is hard for me. I still have to work on it, but looking at the good has made me a much happier person. I have always seen the beauty in the smallest things. This sight has grown a hundred fold since my mind change.

In this next year, I am not making any formal resolutions. I simply will strive to read more, write more, better myself, learn all I can about the world we are in, and see the beauty in every one and everything I see. 

Peace.