10am – left New Hampshire in a fog
11:09 – “Hey, it’s Snowin’!!!”
11:19 – weaving in and out of bands of heavy snow
12:45 – still in Connecticut and there’s ICE on the naked trees, for miles;
no dripping though, nothing’s wet, so the ice happened because
there was precip in the upper atmosphere which was cold enough
to harden. When looking ahead, the trees glisten in the sunlight a
beautiful white – otherwise, it’s dry ground, and very cold.
Hit NY state at 1:07ish with the blue sky and fair-weather clouds, a lttle
windy, BUT LOOK, at the higher elevations the ICE shines
from the trees!
Paid the last two tolls with talkers in front of us… ahhh, we’re moving again
but now we’re in the Empire State, it’s 1:35 and who knows what awaits
when we arrive home?!
Wow, NJ looks dry, the snow has melted, but there’s no signs of snow, rain, sleet, or shiny trees!
2:07 arrived home. Glad we only drove through that mess and didn’t have any of that while tapping maple trees for SaWEET Maple Syrup! Now, what do we have for lunch that hasn’t grown things?
Posted in Page Scribbles
Tagged 2011, Connecticut, fog, food with fuzz, home, ice, maple syrup, maple trees, New Hampshire, PAGE SCRIBBLES, rain, snow, the Empire State, Travelogue, Weather Date: March Seventh
Soon, I will be able to smell the salt from our own shores. Soon, I’ll be breathing in Magnificence – air so pure and far from battledust, that my lungs may collapse in relief and with honour. Relief for service without death. Honour for the men that left us too early, wearing our flag and dying for our freedoms.
The boys on the Pennsylvania were gearing up for our return. All regulation garments and bedding for our sleeping quarters were commissioned for laundry; the head, the mess, and common walks were on a strict schedule for scrubbing and every White Glove was salivating at the thought of making one of us, do some kind of compensatory dirty job in return for our poor job.
I was busy checking reports to see that the I’s were dotted, as well as commander’s signature inked on the bottom line. I often found myself whistling while I worked to clear the documents from ole Shaggy’s desk. To say I was happy that the war was over, would be an understatement, because I was ecstatic to be returning to the wife I married, but had yet to love.
It was Sunday, and there shouldn’t have been a letter in the mailbox, but there was. It came straight from Washington, marked “Classified” and I did not know where the commander was. In the confusion of trying to find his itinerary for the day, I stumbled upon a note that I knew I shouldn’t see, but I couldn’t help But see it – the note read, PREPARE FOR COORDINATES 11°35′ N 165°23′E / 11.583°N 165.383°E / 11.583; 165.383; ARRIVE 20 AUGUST, ASSIST IN OPERATION CROSSROADS.
My heart stopped. All I could think of was Shannon. How can I tell her that I won’t be coming home? How can I tell my darling that the weapons we’ll be testing may cause my death? I wonder if she still has my grandfather’s pocket watch in the nightstand. I’d like to be buried with it.
-dld nov.18, 2010
for Icarus Flight to Perfection”s Writing Challenge
Posted in Narrations, Writing Challenges
Tagged "Classified", battledust, buried, collapse, commander, compensatory, coordinates, death, ecstatic, flag, freedoms, grandfather, home, honour, love, mailbox, married, mess, NARRATIONS, nightstand, Operation Crossroads, Pennsylvania, pocketwatch, Presumptive Ensen, pure, reports, salt, Shannon, shores, sleeping quarters, Washington, weapons, white glove, wife, WRITING CHALLENGE
out of reach, except for whatever that THING IS we shared
still HAVE after all these years
in some ways, primal by their nature, we have a comfortable connection
still have it after all these years
we were younger
ignorant to what we should do, what we could do
foolish in what we made happen
as it stands before us now…
is this a sign that only time in alignment with how our lives played-out
to bring us to today
to make us wonder all these lost years later
what do we do next?
from the moment that we met
what still seems surreal
both facing aftermaths of worlds turned upside-down
convinced, yet expected, we were meant to meet
to touch one another
nurture what we each needed
the home we’ve been building
within this comfortable bubble
I am safe
I am loved
but have i found the me I lost after all these years?
Posted in Narrations
Tagged aftermaths, comfortable connection, comfortable-bubble, courtship-dance, dldselfnarrarion I, foolish, home, ignorant, later, lost, loved, meant, meet, moment, next, now, nurture, played=out, reality, safe, surreal, thing, touch, uears, wonder, years, younger