A man with shocking white hair and a boy of four stood at the edge of a steep cliff. Hand in hand, they scanned the watery waste below. They looked to land’s end, where spits of earth dissolved into the sea, and from there they looked to the horizon, where ocean emptied into sky. Pale heaven ached and sent down a whipping wind.
The boy longed to go home. There was nothing to do here, nothing to see. He recalled the words of the psalm: I am flesh and blood, no better than a breath of wind that passes by and never does return. He felt vacant inside, as hollow as heaven, terrified that the elements would lash into his bones and turn his body into breath, a breath of wind.
He asked, “Has the world ended?”
For that was how it seemed.
“No,” replied the elder. “The world is just begun.”
- The Dutiful Ones - January 30, 2015
- Good Will and Best Wishes to All - December 20, 2014
- Gratitude on Veterans Day - November 11, 2014
- Seven Reasons to Bare Your Soul - September 28, 2014
- 5 Questions (and Answers) for a Memoir Writer - August 24, 2014
- Don’t Be Afraid to Buy This Book - July 8, 2014
- Vermont Hippie Zombies - July 8, 2014
- Why I Write - July 8, 2014
- Let it Be and Let Go - February 12, 2013
- International Woman of Mystery - January 19, 2013