Three Scenes from Kendal's Life

Foot on the brake, hand on the key, with a twist of my wrist, I was on my way. With one hand on the wheel turning it left, I saw the shadow of an unknown creature with eight legs on my windshield. His presence was as calm as mine before he knew I was his last and final predator. Pulling to the side of the street, I prepared myself for his execution.

I am a writer who’s clenched, but soft hands were ripped and cut by paper from an unknown fraudster. Still terrified by traumatic events, suffers their effects. A morning, brisk by the air of fall, sent the flitting legs of a runner up a mountain.The raw air touched her bare skin well.

Dark dirt and trees encompassed her on her way. Seeing the sun up ahead, she had no fear of freezing.

I needed so much time to heal and I didn’t give myself that time. Instead, I beat myself up even more and the healing didn’t happen for a long, long time because I didn’t allow myself to be imperfect and shattered. It didn’t help that I felt misunderstood by her because she just assumed that I was prideful and selfish and she would tell me. That was the easy assumption. But it went far deeper than just a pride thing. My heart was destroyed.

Three Scene's from Cameron's Life

1)

·    I remember wandering through the walk-ways of Sierra College, the halls so quiet that one could hear the scuff of another’s shoe against the well-trodden path.

·      I sat down in my first class that fall semester. The class was silent. No one seemed to know anyone nor take any initiate to get to know anyone.

·      I asked my neighbor their name. They didn’t answer. I looked around the room. To my astonishment, it seemed that everyone around me had plugged into a digital realm of music, podcasts, even social media. Trapped in their own world, they went where I couldn’t follow.

2)

·      The sight of Thanksgiving dinner fills my vision. A deep golden bird simmers in the oven, the slow, consistent bubbling of gravy warms it to the very core.

·      The aroma returns memories of innocent liberties, naïve play, and a world filled with love and happiness.

·      The delicacy makes its way to my lips. Deep flavors, soft touch, prepared to perfection –mothers cooking.

3)

·      See the candle burning. A slow dull light alone in the darkness. A flicker, then a sound so subtle, it’s barely noticeable.

·      Crack! Pop! A bright white light awakens from the left. A spool of copper wire feeds the ravenous light, continuously supplying its existence.

·      A steel pipe is dropped outside the garage door onto the cold cement. A forklift picks it up and moves it. Voices direct the new materials to a fabrication specialist.