Dusty Roads to the Heart

This is Memorial Weekend.   This weekend we remember our loved ones and those special men and women who fought so bravely for our freedom.  We place a mum, a rose, a wreath upon the stone of a loved one and stand there for a little while remembering. This Memorial Weekend I have a letter I must write. A letter that is very overdue. A letter to someone very dear to my heart. I want to write this letter before it is to late for her too read it. So I write with every word coming from deep within my heart. My dear special Mother, I was one and a half years old when dad brought you home to me. You walked into my heart and I onto yours.  Sometimes a mother does things because she has a special kind of heart beating inside her chest. A heart that reaches out. A heart that is tender. A heart that understands the pain of another. A heart that is selfless. A heart that does a deed just because she loves and she cares. A heart that never seeks attention. But someon...

We sat side by side on the picnic bench as the sun slipped silently toward the western skies. We sat there hardly daring to whisper. Silence was all around us. It was as if the earth dare not to breath. Not a blade of grass moved. Not a leaf stirred. In the distance a turtle dove softly cooed her good night and overhead the cardinal called to us from the tree branch. We just sat there, taking in the beauty of the clear skies, the little star, the stillness, as the sun disappeared and darkness, like a huge curtain, fell slowly down and engulfed us in total peace. We jolted out of a deep sleep. Lightening flashed in through the windows, followed by a load clap of thunder. The wind blew, driving the rain against the pane. and our little world of peace was gone. In its place was a raging storm. All happened within a period of 12 hours. Our perfect world turned from perfect and peaceful to raging. But we just laid there in the bed listening. We were not scared. We did not fear. ...