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Returning Home
| Corner Pub #2 |
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Returning Home |
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SPIRIT Senior Member
since 2002-12-29
Posts 1745California Desert |
 RETURNING HOME I am here, I have returned home to the rural roots of my beginning. I have been laid to eternal rest, bedded in a box of unadorned pine, lowered into a hole, dug by the grave digger, who has serviced the small village of my birth, for nigh on forty years. The temple that housed my soul is very much bereft of my being, and all that made me…me. The coffin topped with the rich earth of the graveyard at the Village Church, is a shrine of remembrance for those I have left behind…it is for their benefit and theirs alone. Once again I sing with the village choir, raising my voice to the Glory of God. (The God of my ‘now’ understanding whom I have failed so often to acknowledge). With enthusiasm…my voice rings out, and although no-one can hear me, it matters not - for sing I will …and sing I do. There is so much peace here, in this small high roads village, a comfort like none other. Funny! I have ended where I begun, yet I have traveled so many miles fraught with discouragement and pain on roads that twisted and turned and detoured to get me from here to there …and back to here. I move to and fro on the old swing that still hangs from the large oak tree behind my parents house, they are so old now and yet the swing is still there, a kept memory of childish play and laughter in a far sweeter time. If you wonder how it can stir when there is no wind…then know it is me. I am free, at liberty, once again to climb the rolling hills and play within the fallowed fields of my childhood. The cottages - struggling to maintain balance and forever sharing common walls, lean against each other…for support. Climbing in higgledy-piggledy fashion up the steep cobble stone lanes, they have a most picturesque charm, that I did not recognize, …nor realize when growing up. The sheep graze on gentle hill slopes, tended and herded by the shepherd and his faithful collie, fields of shaved wheat tell a tale of hard work and commitment by those who tend the land. Pies cooling on window ledges, delicious smells of cinnamon and apple drifting through the air. I even hear the soft strains of a Strauss Waltz...wafting into the heavens. Such idyllic and charming representation of gentle moments and tender times, all that I had forfeited in chasing my elusive dreams. This village is steeped in history and traditions, and I have spent my life totally unaware of them. It has taken my death, and my returning home to appreciate that which I had. I am happier in my demise than I was in my earthly existence. Yes! With grateful thanks, I have returned home to the rural roots of my beginning. |
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Joyce Johnson
since 2001-03-10
Posts 9912Washington State |
This is beautiful in every way dear Spirit but I worry. Are you okay? You've been gone so long. God Bless. Joyce |
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SPIRIT Senior Member
since 2002-12-29
Posts 1745California Desert |
I'm doing fine Joyce - thanks for asking -just popping in once in a while, need to get in more often...and I will. |
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Lighthousebob Member Elite
since 2000-06-14
Posts 4725California |
Very picturesque are your fond and inticate collected memories of home. Enjoyed reading this very much. -Bob |
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Broken_Winged_Angel Senior Member
since 2000-04-06
Posts 994Small Town, Somewhere |
This is... Wow. Very very very well done! Your time is here. Take one last look at it, then never come back. This part of your life is already over... |
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passing shadows Member Empyrean
since 1999-08-26
Posts 45577displaced |
gorgeous! |
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