In the Field of Flowers


I sat on a broken tree stump
Gazing out over the field of flowers
I tried counting each one but I failed
I saw your name printed on a stem
When I looked at the buds
I swear they were eyes
And you were reading my heart
I raised my hand out as if I
Thought you would bend your petals towards me
The wind blew gently, causing you to bow my way.
Your petals bent and I could see the form you displayed
A smile on your face, seeds spilling as tears
You miss me too. The wind shifted the other way
You stood tall and very still. I took a picture of you
That I will keep in my heart forever.
We communicated; you and I
I feel an inner peace knowing that
We miss each other the same and
I will remain as strong as you are standing
In the field of flowers.

Written by,
Terry Shepherd

 

 

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Be Thankful for Today


Even the dog doesn’t want to go out to do his business. Instead he prances at the door and then runs the other way when I turn the door handle.

Yes, this is that sort of day. I’m not going out. It is too darn cold.

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See? I told you it was cold today! Yesterday, I decided to go outside and start my old clunker before this cold set in today. I did get it started. It was a slow start, but turned over. The snow was completely frozen. It was so bitter cold, that I only managed to scrape the windows and one side door. I just couldn’t take standing out in the wind.

Last night, my ear started hurting and today, I am doctoring it myself. I get earaches easily and thought I had my ears covered well, but maybe not. If it doesn’t get better by Friday, I will seek medical help.

I wouldn’t be able to get to the doctor today anyways. I am not chancing getting out. These are the days that it seems babies are born and unusual injuries happen.  I remember the Blizzard of 77 here in my town. A snowmobile had to bring me diapers for my son. I had run  out, so yes, today I am staying in.

I have been inside for this entire week for the most part. It is a time we can let ourselves become droopy if we let feelings get out of control. I can remember when school was dismissed at times when it was not scheduled. I was thrilled. I loved having my kids home. We just went with the flow kind of day. Today, it is just me. I tend to sleep more and remain in my P.J.’s more.

I used to feel bad about not jumping out of bed and guilty if I didn’t get dressed right away, but who really cares, but us, what we do inside our home on a frigid day. I can say that although m living area is not the ideal living situation for Senior Citizens; I am very thankful for the roof over my head today.

Cities surrounding me and my own town  have set-up facilities for the homeless because of the cold. It is so  hard for me to say or type the word homeless. We shouldn’t have this in our town. Warsaw is supposed to be the biggest Orthopedic Capital of the world, but as you can understand from my post, not everyone works at these companies.

The temperatures will be very close tomorrow as they are today. Friday we are supposed to rise to fifteen degrees. Hey! It’s above freezing! Monday we are supposed to climb to the upper forties.

I will finally be able to go back to my volunteer job plus I have an appointment with a medical place to get special shoes made for my feet. Hopefully this will help me.

So where ever you live, what ever the temperatures, no matter how long you have been trapped inside, remember, it could be worse. Be thankful for today. Tomorrow is not promised.

The Familiar Place


Last evening it was quiet. I did some of the things I wanted to get working on and then I went downstairs. The poem I just wrote is about what I thought and saw.

 

THE FAMILIAR PLACE

The Christmas lights glowed

Reflected on her tears

I felt the storm

Of thundering memories.

 

We aren’t really that close

I didn’t know what to say

I looked around for others

Not a shadow of a face.

 

I felt the tug in my heart

Requesting me to stay

I pulled my walker close

Locked my brakes and sat down.

 

Words flowed easily

From my mouth

I explained I felt her feelings

As I was living mine.

 

We shared so easily

Memories of our families

The empty seats at dinner

The place we live in now.

 

We spent about an hour

Like friends for ever more

We ended with some laughter

We then both went our own ways.

 

Written by,

Terry Shepherd

 

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The Visit


THE VISIT
 
I can’t get it out of my mind. I keep thinking about the dream I had last night.
 
With the illness I have; I usually have terrible nightmares, always waking up before I die, but to see my brother in my dream and be able to talk to him was bigger than anything I have experienced.
 
I am a thinker by nature so it is not unusual for me to have been pondering on how I made this dream happen. Can I make it happen again?
 
Alvin was healed. He was standing tall. He wasn’t crying and he didn’t act afraid of life. He smiled that big, familiar smile I always saw.
 
We talked. In my dream it didn’t seem like we chatted for a very lengthy period, before I woke up, but I remembered it and i still remember it.
 
I have definitely moved on since his passing. I have managed to hide my tears and sadness. I have laughed among friends. This is the part that has moved on.
 
There is an injured snail crawling inside my spirit though. The feelers come out when I am all alone and this is when it seems like only yesterday; I walked into his bedroom and found he had passed.
 
The dagger still punctures my soul and heart. The eyes well up instantly. I sit. I remember. I cry. I don’t think we ever truly get over the death of a loved one.
 
I don’t know if we ever heal completely. It is complete though. He was born. He lived. He passed. I think there is a bigger torture when there is no final stage of life.
 
When friends or family hurt us and it is never settled. That sword just keeps twisting and stabbing. The mind rolls over big hills and stumbles over boulders as we try to find peace that is now broken.
 
How do we go forward? How do we hide the memories of what once made us smile. How do we hide the tears in our daily living?
 
It is so difficult but this is something each of us has to deal with and lay to rest. God placed us here to send the message out to others about his love.
 
God gave us feelings so we can love and hurt and hug and smile and heal. God gave us ears so we can listen to his message, a body who can accept a hug from another person.
 
We must give these heavy burdens to God. We need to carry our faith in large baskets, and know that whatever the problem; God will carry us through it. We have to believe this.
 
Other wise, we will be injured creatures, walking this earth, thinking only of our pain. We will not be able to reach out to others who need us or are hurting.
 
This dream that I was honored to be a part of was a wonderful vision. A gift from God you might say. I have told God so many times how my life will never be the same, how much I miss my brother.
 
God showed me last night, in my dream, that no matter what pain I am going through in my waking hours, he is right there, holding my hand, guiding me and showing me his love.
 
Thank-you God, for allowing the visit to happen between me and my brother.
 
Written by,
Terry Shepherd
October, 15, 2018
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What Would you Do?


How do you react and what do you do when you run into someone who used to be considered your best friend? What about a relative that you were close to and then when life changes your circumstances; the relative changes their personality towards you? Has this ever happened to you?

 

It has to me. I have never been so  hurt, emotionally, as when my father passed a way and my family turned their backs on me. It wasn’t something that I did to change their views. It was my father’s choices in his will. You know the words, I leave this to this person and that to that person.

 

I don’t know what my dad was thinking because I have not been close to dying yet and therefore I could not begin to read his mind in those final months. He knew though and he knew the feelings he was carrying.

 

Choices he had picked in previous years suddenly seemed to take a different direction; the closer to death’s door he became. He obviously had discussed us kids to different family members when his life was full of living.

 

I also don’t believe that people who are close to dying and want to make their final decisions go a different route, exactly discuss such personal issues with others. I believe this is exactly what happened in my father’s case. He changed his mind.

My father passed away, December 1st, 2017.101_0626

It took a year and a half to settle everything and from that date on; life changed. It has never gone back. There is no family to talk to anymore.

 

I’m not whining so don’t feel sorry for me. I didn’t make those choices. Others made their own decisions to stay a way from me. It hurts when I think about it so I don’t try to think about it too often. A tear appears as I write this today; but I will get through it. I always do.

 

My point is; the way we treat people. I have been talking about this on my own Facebook page for a couple of days, so this is the end of the topic. The thinking I want you to take away from this is; is it worth it? Is it really worth it to turn your back on an old friend or a family member?

 

I bet you think I will say it’s right or wrong. I can’t say that because I don’t know how I would feel if suddenly someone from my past wanted to talk to me today. I guess my first thought would be; What do they want?

 

I guess I would be suspicious, let a little hopeful for a re-uniting? I don’t know. For me, for these past several years, silence is better. Less hurt, less tears, less remembering, less pain.

 

So, what would you do if you ran into that old friend or that relative you haven’t spoken to for years?

School Days, School Days


Summer is half over. I have seen school ads on the television and remember how our family scrimped and saved during July in order to pay for all those school books, supplies and clothes.
 
There was no extra spending on fun, groceries or trinkets. No matter how my kids begged, there just wasn’t the money. Back when my kids were in school, the price of a lunch was 50 cents and then worked up to tops of 75 cents.
 
Now I hear prices are over a dollar and they have snack machines and a much better variety of lunches offered. This is a good thing but i have to ponder on those that can’t afford to buy those lunches who may have two or three kids to feed.
 
I don’t remember me ever taking a sack lunch to school. I always ate in the cafeteria. In face, I remember what it was to receive a brown bag lunch when I went to the circus in the third grade. Opening it up and finding a sandwich and a cookie was so much fun.
 
I went to the Goodwill store a few days ago and I saw quite a few moms with kids and they were definitely clothing shopping. I remembered my days when I heard those older kids tell the mom they didn’t like what mom was picking it out. At the age of being a teen, my thought was the same as my mom’s thoughts. Don’t like what i am buying? Get a part-time job and that way you can buy what you choose.
 
With all the bullying that goes on at schools and in-room classes and on the buses, it makes me very glad I went to school when I did.
 
Of course there were those that picked on other kids, but the thought of hearing, “Jimmy, sit down in your seat or I am going to follow you right to the office and then I am going to call your parents,” scared those little pickers enough, that they behaved.
 
Why is it today that kids feel they do not need to respect or obey their elders? I didn’t get by with even voicing my opinions. It was considered mouthing off and I got in trouble for it.
 
I’m not saying kids shouldn’t have an opinion and voice it. I think I should have also. After all, how are parents supposed to get to know their children as they develop into their personalities. The difference though is, kids should be allowed to voice their thoughts but respect their parents enough to realize that the parents final decision is nothing more than final decision.
 
Nope, I don’t envy my children getting their kids ready for school and those teen years arriving sooner and sooner. I am not so old that I don’t remember that parenting day or how I tried to get my own way.
 
Good luck parents. School is almost here.
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Fourth of July, 1977


Almost forty-one years ago, wow, am I that much older now? Yes, math doesn’t lie. Almost forty-one years ago, it was much like a day today is.
 
Hot, real hot and humid. I was in my twenties. I was married and had a little girl named Rachael Wagner who was five. I lived on the outskirts of Warsaw back then.
 
I was only days from introducing a new baby into the world. The world seemed quiet then compared to the noise today. I was happy. I had a wonderful husband, a daughter who smiled all the time.
 
My parents and grandparents were still alive. Prices were more even with the economy. This was the time period when we had the blizzard of 1977.
 
I delivered a baby boy in less than twenty minutes with no real pain; I swear I am telling the truth here! A piece of cake, a real fire cracker baby, born on July fourth. My last son, Randy Weaver, was a real corker at being born, but it was well worth it.
 
Life sure has changed. My daughter lives out of state. I have one son who lives very near me and another son who lives less than an hour from here.
 
I have I think, eleven grandchildren. I am no longer married. I have lost my parents, grandparents and brother. I am different from this, but also more in touch with who I am.
 
I live for times, texts or phone calls from my children. I love my camera, writing and painting. I love peace and quiet. I hate my short-term memory that is showing its ugly teeth more and more.
 
I am far from rich, but rich in riches. I am blessed. I love my kids and grandchildren. I am lucky. Happy birthday, Ryan Weaver.

Bring it up Front


I am a writer and I believe I think too much. Maybe this is what writers do; I am not sure. I find myself gazing at things around my room and something will catch my eye; and boom, I have a story to tell.

This happened this morning, in fact. I was sitting on my bed looking around at what I had left of my possessions that I truly cared for at heart. I looked at my low-boy dresser and suddenly was carried back to my youth.

I lived on a dead-end street in Warsaw, Indiana. Some of you from my city will probably remember the street; Oriole Lane. It was pretty close to the dead-end of the lane. We lived in a small house with a huge oak tree out front, that I can remember playing many times under with my dolls.

My brother and I would probably be looked down at now, or perhaps it would have been my parents that were looked at. I was 9-10 and he was 8-9 years old. We slept in the same bedroom in bunk beds. I slept on top and he had the bottom.

I had my dresser. In fact, I don’t remember any of my brother’s furniture. Maybe we shared the same dresser? I don’t know. Anyways, remember, I was staring at this dresser on my bed. I looked at the top drawer and then remembered one time my mom got really upset with me. Today, I don’t know why or understand. I think it was taboo or something.

I developed young. You know what I mean. That “special movie” hadn’t been presented in school yet and I think my mom didn’t expect something from me so young in age.

I got pretty scared and so when the evidence was seen with the naked eye; I hid all evidence. When my mom discovered it while putting clean clothes away; she found my items. She got angry and spouted off at me. Hey, I didn’t know what in the world was happening. For all I knew, I was dying.

Anyways, back to the presence, I laugh now as I think of that embarrassing moment in my young life. So many memories of my parents I savor today.

I am glad I am a thinker. I can revisit my memory box anytime I wish. I can bring it to the present and enjoy the times of being a kid.

Written by,
Terry Shepherd

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I CAN ONLY IMAGINE


I can only imagine
What life would be today
With you right here beside me
Walking through it with me each day.
 
I can only imagine
Your words and smile
I bet you share them in heaven
While you sit with them a while.
 
I can only imagaine
Picking up the telephone
Hearing your voice so clear
I would not be feeling alone.
 
I can only imagine
Us sitting down to eat
Together like once before
Not like today; where i feel defeat.
 
I can only imagine
The Christmas tree all lit
Smiling faces and lights a glow
Can’t you come back; for just a bit?
 
I can only imagine
A life without you in it
Because I’m living it today
Feeling like I don’t even fit.
 
Written by,
Terry Shepherd
 
Dedicated to my family in heaven
06/17/2018

Story a Day


http://storyaday.org/day-27-start-at-the-end/?ck_subscriber_id=211865176

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

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