Where Once There Was Life

The year: 1978.  Family and friends glided back and forth on the old wooden swing and others gathered around the crooked cement steps on a warm summer's night.  Reminiscing of days gone by.  Talking of memories, of a time when the world was good and right.  

Spring would breath life into the air after wicked winter winds subsided and high snows melted away, leaving an aftermath of wet muddy ground.  Budding flowers emerged. New beginnings and eternal hope sprung forth with the calendars proclamation of spring.

 Memories were warm with Christmas's past.  

Happiness.  Family.  Innocence.  The sounds of life.  The smell of grilled cheese and vegetable soup cooking on the stove.  The warmth of family.  A home.  Full of life.

Spaghetti dinners with fresh warm bread enjoyed around the little porcelain table.  

Lots of Love.  

Abandoned, now.  

Ransacked. 

Void of life.

Once upon a time.  Family.   Laughter.  Life.

Then, nothing.

Over twenty years empty.   

Memories, ever present.  

Across the street from our church sits my brother Jimmy's old abandoned house.  Every year he'd say, "I'm coming back to Maryland in the spring...  to go through the house."  

His time ran out when last year he died.  

Today as I visited the abandoned house I retrieved old photos strewn through debris and memorabilia under piles of junk and clutter.  Soon the house will be demolished as the grounds are now the property of our church.  New life will emerge in what form, I am not sure.  But something good will become of the place.  

Where once there was life.  

Saving The Little Ones

And the rains came threatening to sabatoge the family just outside my office window...

There's something about the little ones.  The innocent.  The poor, defenceless babies 

weathering life storms...    I feel helpless.  

Me:  "Gary!  We have to do something!" 

And so, my knight climbed the step ladder and puttied the hole where the 

rains were flooding the nest.

Soon mama bird returned and gave the little ones a piece of her mind.  I could hear her chirping from inside my office and I watched her bobbing back and forth in extreme animation, probably telling them that they should never allow humans anywhere near the home while she is away.

If they only knew....

Dear Diary,

There are days when I feel like a pup again.  Could be dementia.  Could be just plain spunk on my part.  Maybe one is only as old as one feels acts.  It felt good to rip up that package of tissues and spread them all over the floor.  Real good.  Gracie.

She's Trouble

Right outside of my office window, tucked inside the rain spout, a new family of babies wait for mama bird to bring home supper.  It's been going on for weeks now.  The building of the nest.  The activity off and on there.  And then, the babies.  

I climbed a step-ladder and tried to get a shot.   Awe... a newbie.  

Where are your feathers little birdie friend?

 There's nothing like babies to usher in spring, right?

 Dear Diary,

There was an incident.  Outside.  On the back patio.  It was twilight and mom and dad were in the back yard doing something with that big pool of water back there.  Suddenly I began to chase a squeaky toy real live birdy friend on the patio and mom freaked out "GRACIE NO!"  she said.  She pushed me inside and then came in and began the interrogation.  "Was it a bird?"  I pleaded the fifth and stared straight ahead.  "Was it a baby bunny?"  I continued to stare straight ahead, ignoring her controlled and angry tone.  Hey.  I'm a dog.  I like squeaky toys and especially if they run fast and make noises.   Mom says I'm trouble.  She's trouble.  Gracie.