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Walter LaVerne Jones

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Love Lost
By Walter LaVerne Jones
Sunday, September 23, 2007

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Slow memory


Authors Note: The road goes on forever but the music never ends. I often felt the description that life is a song fits well, for in the words I find my own melody, in the music I free my mind from the reality surrounding me, I can and often do this inside a crowd.

I am arrogant as all hell, and feel the need to respond only to people worth talking to. Heard that from somebody once, not a good line for a people person.
Earth and wind some fire and bit of water with just a drop of pure fresh air. Setting for the story rolling around in a mind.

Inside out with a view. Requires imagination and being there. Just lost about half of you.



The road stopped in the view of the house left lonely on the hill. Here the walls talked of love, real love, the kind of love that traveled as the wind did, where ever it's choose. I stood in awe for one more moment. Picked up my Satchel and moved back into the dark woods. Empty and tired. I had been drained by that house. I had nothing left to give. Night engulfed me as I sought shelter from my thoughts and self. Small fire by the creek took the night chill off me. Bed roll offered me a view of tangled wood and bramble, sleep came slow, mind traveled the many errors called my life.

You live for your kids, watch them grow, give them every thing you have. They always, first, you, well if there is anything left over. Watched the greed of, not enough to go around. Self and extras, pick and choose, always making the right answer, the value add, if you're wrong own up to it, never fight for first, accept your role and do the duty required, do not cheat, do not risk, do not hurt, do not step on others to become better, no you do not have the same as others, make do, stand tall, even when hurt by words.

I hear the house laughter, I crawl deeper into the roll. Words burn to me as deep as my soul, a master of nothing, a jackass of all trades, real and unreal. I hurt inside, my pride my heart lay broken, every thing escapes from me. All the whys and what for, biblical path, was I correct, doubt a cruel sword cuts deep. All things move on, sleep comes for me. A deep sleep.

What was he doing by the creek? Jeremy get him up on the couch, Michael get those wet clothes off him, how long was he missing this time? Jessie call the doctor.

Mom, just let him be, let him die, this is what he wanted. Can't you let him rest just this once.
Never, he is this house, he is the life here, he is love, don't you ever forget it, now move.

The ambulance came, he died later in the hospital. Was a brush fire late in the day, nobody home, it took the house. The love was still there, after the funeral, down on the road, looking up from the creek, an ash filled mist, formed high on the hill. We all saw it, watched it fade, each of us went our separate ways. In our minds the house stands and so does dad..

 


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Reviewed by Jackie (Micke) Jinks 4/7/2008
Walt - I missed this before...oh, but that was a time I wasn't online, Nov. '07.
It's so sad, this story, but a jolt to the mind that tells us "Always tell those you love, that you do love them." Might just make a difference in one's life...

Micke



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