The Infinite Sadness of Yearning for the Past


Although she could look to the horizon and see the protective hills of her childhood, the yearning did not ease. Fifteen years of absence, spent in denial and indifference, reversed with a smile from an unexpected source. The ill feelings towards those that had forgotten her suddenly ceased, and the longing for the familiar returned. She realized, as she watched her once family, now strangers, she yearned for what once was, not what now is. The pain of loss, another great patriarch of the family, returned to the ground, weighed heavily on her heart; but the revelation that she missed those she had spent so much time resenting, crushed her soul. 



Heartache Hike

Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt: Hike
Via Daily Post: Hike


Different approach to today’s prompt. An experience from my personal life.

It was our first trip to Saratoga Woods. My German Shepherd, Buffy, led the way as usual. The early morning air was cool and wet. Fog draped the green, needled spires. A sloped meadow met tall, dense cedars and pines, the path beckoning us into the darkness among the trunks. We stepped lightly through the meadow, the disturbance of dew our only tracks. Into the somber thicket we went. 

Once among the bark-clad columns, awe illuminated our surroundings. Light filtered through the thick canopy, bright green ferns reached their fronds skywards. Moss clung to branches, rocks, anything offering purchase. Steam rose from the forest floor in columns of light where the sun’s rays could fully penetrate. The silence of the meadow was replaced by bird songs and squirrel chatter. The hidden world within the forest presented itself to us without reserve. 

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The Call

[Prompt: Thinking you’re just playing along, you take a toy phone offered by a two year old. To your surprise, a voice from the phone says “Thank goodness! Listen, here’s what you have to do..” ]

     To Darren’s immense disappointment, he had once again been forced to attend an extended family BBQ at the local park. Riding in the backseat of his parent’s van, he practiced his best interpretation of teenage angst. The repeated attempts by his mother to make eye contact with him in the rear view mirror were met with exaggerated eye rolls and breathy sighs of displeasure. Tired of acting, he stared, blank faced, out the window at the passing houses in the suburb he called home. As expected, the yards abruptly ended, replaced by the thick forest that encompassed the perimeter of the park. His eyes squinted reflexly against the bright, flickering sunlight filtering through the summer green leaves of the cottonwoods. The red van slowed and came to a stop as his mom opted for a handicapped parking spot close to the covered picnic area.

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Losing the Light

[Prompt: She was all of the light I had in the world (or he) ]

     “Time heals all wounds,” she had said as the wind blew her golden hair, obscuring her beautiful features as I tried to savor the last sip of her presence. Like a complex wine that needs repeated tasting to discern the components, I could never quite get enough to describe her. I had spent a century in a drunken stupor at her side, my thirst for her had never been quenched. I was still thirsty.
     I had been unsure if she meant for her statement to be cruel then, only later realizing the irony of her final words. The idea that time heals wounds only applies to one that counts time. Time is meaningless to an immortal.

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