Story a Day

The Prompt

Start a story that begins with the ending, then immediately jumps back in time.

With tears in his eyes, he was led away by his nephew. His bucket list had been complete and now he can tell the Lord he is ready to come home.

It all started sixty-seven years ago. A baby on the way. His marriage still a newlywed in his eyes, he received the notice. Six o’clock in the morning; he kissed his wife goodbye. He boarded the old, green bus and headed to the base head quarters.

He did everything his best. He scrubbed potatoes, floors and shined his shoes. He crawled under wires, got muddy, did morning drills. He lost weight, he learned to look but not love the enemy.

He killed, he protected, he wrote letters every night. He shared his love for his wife and child with his mates. He learned of the death of his parents and grandmother.

He fought hard, he fought well. He won. He was awarded letters and colored ribbons. He earned pins.

He was old inside when it finally ended. He was less a leg and carried emotional wounds that couldn’t be blended with the  new life he lived. He needed care; too much care. He lost his wife. He lost his child. He lived alone.

He wheeled himself to the nearest corner and watched the people walk by. He shook hands with the little children who stared at him. He passed out tiny flags for those who would take them.

He ate alone. He bathed rarely. The radio became his friend. His spirit had partially died. Days turned to nights. Minutes turned to  hours. He gave up.

Room 320 was his new home. Four walls,  painted mint green, baron walls, a free, black and white television. Friendly faces of people in white visited daily. A man in cloth spoke from the Bible.

A young gentleman with a heart on his shoulder stopped by to visit one day. One day turned into  daily and the two became the best of friends. Dreams and hopes spilled over.  A soda in a bottle was delivered. Special candies arrived with bright colors.

He was an old man on the outside. He knew his time was short. One afternoon in May, it was a holiday. The friend stopped by early. He changed my clothes. He put on my socks and slippers. He wrapped a shawl around my shoulders. He signed me out.

I saw the bright sunshine. I saw the green leaves on the trees. I saw mothers walking babies in a carriage. I saw the white, picket fence. I saw the people lined up; one after the other.

He helped me out. He transferred me into my wheelchair. He pushed me to the center of the crowd. I touched it. I felt warmth re-enter my soul. I felt memories flood back. My heart felt as if it was going to stop. My breathing slowed. I felt a hand on my shoulder.

” I wanted to help you complete your bucket list buddy.” He smiled. I returned the smile as my hand lay rested on the



Memorial Day


Soon it will be Memorial Day
A day of picnics and fun
A day of rest and remembering
In the bright and glorious sun.

A day of saluting our special ones
A day of standing in place
Taking a moment to give your thanks
To our veterans who fought with grace.

We tend to take life for granted
We forget how we came to be
We must love our country’s fighters
And what they did for you and me.

So when you fill your plate full
And you sit around together
Take a moment and bow your heads
And be grateful for now and ever.

Written by,
Terry Shepherd



ants 2

A little Laughter, A lot of Relaxation

The past few days have not been bad at all. I took my son out for lunch for his birthday one day. I cleaned the house and with help, rearranged a couple of rooms. I rested and relaxed. It has been wonderful with out pressures on this holiday weekend.

My friend drove me to a mall and with the help of my scooter, I was able to go to some of my favorite stores. We then ate at the famous Coney Island hot dog restaurant. It is a small place but has a big-time flavor.

Here is a link to Coney Island.

Memorial Day; A Day to Remember, a Day to Celebrate

Yesterday, I did my laundry in the morning and then went to visit my parents and Al at the cemetery. It was very quiet all throughout the day. It seemed as if I was being protected from everything else but my memories I relived at the cemetery.

Today, I went to a picnic, cookout at some friend’s home. Friends I had not seen since I returned to Indiana. I was able to visit with some special gals who were once good friends with my brother.

I have to say, that the word normal should be taken out of the dictionary. Normal is what each person thinks is normal to them. For me, being around all types of friends today, hearing the laughter and the singing made me feel about as normal as I could possibly hope to ever be.

Every problem I face each day was laid to rest. My pain was placed on the back burner for a couple of hours. The only thing that reminded me of my health; was my cane. I felt embarrassed because I couldn’t pour my own pop out of the 2 liter bottle, but no one made any jokes about it; in fact, friends helped me with no questions asked and even carried my plate and cup for me to my seat. What better friends could I possibly ask for?

I took plenty of photos. One of my brother yesterday, a Robin I saw perched on a chimney stack, and of course my friends at the cookout today. I hope you enjoy the picture show as much as I enjoyed this weekend.

weeds 2picnic 11picnicpicnic 2picnic 3picnic 6picnic 7picnic 9weeds 3

Happy Memorial Day  I consider Al to be one of my very close blogging friends. He helps me in ways I didn’t realize that I needed help with. When I saw the post just now, it once again hit home. I copied and pasted it so you could read it also below.


… Remember, You Are Listening. ~ Bob Proctor

When we talk to people about ourselves, a lot of the time we run ourselves down, and if we do it enough, we start to believe it. When you talk to someone, and they steer the conversation to you, tell them what you can do, not what you can’t. Tell them the good things about you, not the bad. Tell them what makes you smile, not what makes you sad. You are deserving of happiness, and you know why? Because you make a difference in this world just by being you. You will never find a better you.

The first thing I catch myself doing when I am talking to just about anyone is cut myself down. I don’t want to do it, but I do it anyways. I dog myself about  my age.

Sometimes I am so fearful of getting old that I blurt out that I am old or getting too old for this or that. I have been going to see a job coach and the first thing she told me was to quit knocking myself down about the age thing.

I hadn’t even realized that I was doing it, but obviously, she had heard it. Why do I do it? We all are going to die at some point. I think about the horrid pain and death my brother went through and then I quietly whisper to myself the word wimp.

If he could be in constant pain for over a year and go through the internal changes he did, then surely I can deal with my injured tendons, aches and pains and be thankful for the facts that I can still walk. I can feed myself, dress myself.

If a soldier can be placed in a setting where his life could be placed in immediate danger, than what is my problem. A soldier can be torn from his family for months at a time.

I am sure he is not dining on steak and mashed potatoes and doesn’t have the wide choices of eating healthy or not at times. Carrying the heavy equipment on his back, slithering through dusty ground, sleeping in less comfort of  his own bed.

Oh Terry, you have life so good. Your pain and fears are so unworthy of cutting yourself down. Live for today girlfriend, give thanks for every single thing you have and quit worrying about your age or how close to death you are. You have a long way to go baby, make each day count.

Thank-you Al from A mixed bag,  for being the wonderful friend and confidant that you have been for so long. Thank-you God for allowing me to go through the circumstances I have been through.Thank-you Al, my brother, for giving me the opportunity to care for you. Thank-you Jesus, for loving me with all my weak areas. Let me help those who need a comforting shoulder or to be able to recognize their hurting soul. Amen

American Flag


Is This Your Son, Memorial Day

Is This Your Son


There was a child

Who grew in height

He became a man

Who wanted to fight

To keep us safe

And speak for us

I cried as I watched

Him get on that bus

The days ticked by

Life seemed to stand still

I know my soldier

Is fighting over that hill

As a mama I must say

How proud I am

Of who he is

And how it began

I am standing here

Touching the photo frame

Tears touching glass

No I hold no shame

For this is my son

He is my only one

I give thanks today

For Memorial Day.

Written by,

Terry Shepherd