She thought she would walk in the rain today, so no one could see her tears.  She and the sky had a good cry.




shoes-converse-sneakers-all-star-blue-shoes_www-paperhi-com_66        It was yet another chilly wet day in Daytona Beach.  A day seemingly like so many of late as I felt the weight of the thief, worry.  Days on end vied for my emotional physical and spiritual energies.  Even though I did enjoy most dreamy-rainy days, this particular rainy day was cold and dreary with a hard-driven rain making me that much more aware of the aches and pains of aging.  I was on my way to a doctor’s appointment on follow-up visit for an ongoing recovery of an injury.  I was already feeling anxiety’s brutal anguish as I tried with patience to overcome the challenges presented of being unemployed and consumed with surmounting medical bills incurring along the way for having no medical insurance under state where people, like myself, are eligible only for humility without right of human decency of care and comfort: A truly vicious cycle of societal malevolence indeed! There I stood at the bus stop, again, forced to wait for having no vehicle.  My only options of travel were either an expensive taxi, or take the long and tedious bus ride to my destination.



A bus finally approached by the time I was soaked clear through to my socks.  I proceeded onto the platform, keeping in mind the slippery wetness of the narrow steps.  I had already surmised that the passengers would be of the usual variety, numbed-out-zombie-like faces staring blankly back at me.  I would be lucky to get a seat.  As I approached the entryway, my eye staked out the only seat available nearer the front of the bussecond row just behind the driver seat.  As I awaited my approach to pay my fare, I turned to my left, and through the Plexiglas wall I saw the long face of a young girl; a stunning beauty of shiny features that shown even through her fixed expression.  I guessed her age to be of eighteen to twenty years. Her complexion was like new fallen snowno freckles, no blemishes, no scarring.  Not even a pore of her skin was visible.  As I drew closer to her, what I did see were three tiny and artfully positioned piercings of youthful display on her nose and eyebrows.  The young girl seemed distracted in her thoughts as she looked right through me.  Her mind seemed far from the commotion surrounding her.



As I stepped up to the driver, I caught glimpse of a lavishly laced pink infant carriage positioned at the young girl’s feet.  The carriage was large and looming in contrast to the narrow aisle of the bus, yet was perfectly set in place like an adorned throne fit for a princess.  The carriage itself looked of purposeful design with large white wheels beneath a spiraling frame of shiny silver chrome.  The sides were layered in light pink lace billowing down in furls.  As I passed the surrealistic still-life drama played out before me, I concentrated one eye steady on the seat I had picked out just diagonal from the girl and the carriage.  In my passing, I glimpsed a long peak down at the tiny infant lying within the pretty-protected walls of the carriage.  I guessed the infant to be four or five months of age. Her skin was a delicate creamy light shade of mocha.  Her large and beautifully hypnotic dark-brown eyes were endowed with long dark lashes; a picture of envy of all mother’s dreams. Her thick dark chocolate-brown bushy hair with shiny tiny petite curls was neatly secured from her little face by a dainty lacy pink-bowed headband. The tiny infant was wide-eyed, smiley and giddy.  I could see her tiny arms and legs flailing about beneath her pastel pink and blue baby blanket as she squealed happily.



I took my seat on the bus, and took a deep breath to re-claim my calm.  I couldn’t help but peer over at the young beautiful girl and the embellished carriage before her.  How could I not notice that the infant and the carriage were in direct disparity to the girl’s appearance? She was dressed neatly, taking obvious pride in her appearance.  Her colorful attire I would describe as skater-girl-like, a term I learned from the younger generation’s vernacular: A word used to describe a certain look of particular dressing style of some groups of our youth.  The girl was obviously very tall in stature with a sculptured medium-slim body frame.  Her hair was coal black in color, straight, and cropped short to her head with a jagged parting sweep her right side.  Her bangs were held securely back with a small plain black bobby pin. Her eyes, a brilliant blue with exceptionally long lashes.  The girl’s black jeans were tightly slim fitting down to her ankles and secured to her hips with an attractive wide black belt with quite large open metal-framed holes diametrically encircled.  Her small tight T-shirt and matching jacket were snuggly fit and quarter-sleeved to just above the elbows, neatly contrasting her jeans.  The bottom of the jacket just barely reached to the top of her belt.  The girl defied being ignored in plain sight, straight down to the tops of her baby blue “Converse” high-top shoes and brightly colored pastel toned socks that perfectly complimented her shirt and jacket.  The girl’s neck sparkled with a petite gold chain with a tiny heart pendant dangling at its end. The heart lay just atop her chest like an exquisite piece of  jewelry displayed on a mannequin’s neck as is seen in a jewelry store window.



I was not in a habit of staring at a person, but I was mesmerized by this tall and beautiful young girl and her colorful skater-girl-tomboyish appearance and the pretty-pink infant carriage holding its bubbly occupant wailing her little infant’s songs of joy.  At first glimpse of her, the girl displayed no facial expression.  As I stared in my secret awe, I watched the girl slowly turn her head as if being summoned by force to come back from her daze of moment in response to the infant’s squeals for attention. As she gazed down into the carriage, I saw her face and her whole countenance change in an instant before me. I knew that their eyes had met. A chill rose up in me.  The girl and the infant carriage took on a surreal glow that moved everything around them to fade away until there was nothing but the girl and the carriage. Again, not meaning to stare at such angelic site, I was hypnotized to paralyzed.  I saw, in that moment, the girl and the infant share a private universe; a solitary space of which I was graciously given privy to behold.  The young girl beamed with total unconditional love and devotion upon the infant.  I did see a tender pure love come out of hera light untouched by all outside influence.  I could not stop if I might the energy rising directly from this light. My own tears did silently swell from a place where I had kept them hidden.  For a brief moment, I had forgotten my own pain and worry, to share in this private and precious joy.  I was completely mesmerized as I allowed myself to feel an energy of deep felt emotion completely, and without expectation or reservation, take me.



A spell of enchantment was broken when the beautiful young girl reached up to pull the cord announcing her stop to the driver as the bus approached her destination. She resumed her beautiful angelic smile as she gently reached into the carriage to place the blanket over the infant.  She then secured a plastic covering over the entrance of the carriage to protect the infant from the chilling rain outside.  I watched them both intently as they made their leave.  I watched the girl and the carriage and the large blue umbrella from the moisture soaked bus window as they disappeared down the street as the bus proceeded onward.  I was left to myself with feelings of sadness that they were gone. I then did hear the words of mind, ‘beyond the veils of intimate self-pity, lay all things beautifully seen through both sides of the looking glass’.©





Forsake not these days of reflection of heart’s sonnets as night falls and comes ‘they’I watcher’ of afterthoughts—keeper of  the days of mortal pinnings moving gusts of wind and rain to mingle with heavenly tears.  Washed away but not forgotten are the many awe-swept sorrows. 





INTROSPECTION (n): A conscious contemplation of one’s thoughts feelings and sensations of moment: A self-reflective examination.





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Dougug Carn – “Sanctuary”


















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