The Secret is About Al
Today I had carpet laid in our kitchen. I always had tiles but since Alhas come home the wheelchair…
Today I had carpet laid in our kitchen. I always had tiles but since Al has come home the wheelchair and his weight have cracked a few, so time to do something different. We can’t walk on it too much today, so I think tonight is pizza party night. He will like this.
I decided to get myself out of the house. I ran to one of my favorite used stores. Then I went to Al and my favorite soda shop to eat. Last I ran to the grocery store. While I was at the used and collectible store I found something for Al. I have seen it for three weeks now but I just didn’t want to pay the price.
I told the owner about Al’s incident last night so she lowered the price and I snatched it up for him. As soon as I get done with this I am going to go place it in his room and wait for him to notice it. Knowing him he should take notice immediately. Oh I can’t wait to see his face. Will I see smiles? I sure hope so. I just had to let you in on my secret. I love giving gifts. I love seeing people’s faces, and hope to hears giggles and see smiles. Makes me feel like a kid at a candy store.
At the soda shop besides eating I grabbed a product that will help stop Al’s bleeding almost instantly. I sure hope it works as I don’t want either of us to have to go through last night again.
Once at the store I ran in and ran out. There was a truck with a gentleman getting ready to open the door to put his grocery items in. I looked in the driver seat to see if anyone was in there. Why? I don’t know, just nosy I guess. I was surprised at who I saw in the driver’s seat. I had to wonder if he was old enough to drive. I hope you can see the photo below and what I am talking about. Look carefully in the driver’s seat. It was so bright out that I was disappointed in the shot but didn’t have the heart to toss the photo. So, sorry it isn’t a perfect shot.
The last photo is of a sketching I did last night when I was waiting for the Hospice nurse to come. My son said it looks like a jelly fish, what do you think? So here are the three photos for you to see.
http://dailypost.wordpress.com, Daily Prompt, DP
Walking down the street, you encounter a folded piece of paper on the sidewalk. You pick it up and read it and immediately, your life has changed. Describe this experience.
Photographers, artists, poets: show us TRANSFORMATION.
He slept in boxes. He slept under the bridges. He slept where ever his body found comfort once the sun set.
He had once been a prosperous man residing in the hot spots of Florida. He had built shells of houses and sold them to people barely out of the danger zone of bankruptcy. His ideal goal was that he charged enough in payments that in no time at all he had gained not only the up-front cost but the house back.
He would repeat this business to one after another. His pockets heavy his checkbook fat he was living high on the hog. He had a sailing yacht. He owned two homes. One in his home town and one by the edge of the ocean.
Drink and friends could be seen anytime of the day or night. He had made millions and even had made the cover of a national magazine. But when one does things for the wrong reasons, it is almost guaranteed life will stop and come and bite you in the rear.
And this did happen. A police family under disguise portrayed the perfect family for purchasing one of his properties. A couple of weeks after entering the home the legal system had everything they required to bust the sales man.
In no time at all the savoy business man lost it all. His homes became foreclosed. His checkbook became skinny. His pockets folded inside out. Friends deserted him, drinks went dry.
As the companies came to clean out his house he sat at his dining table and wept in to his hands. Soon there was a tap on his shoulder. They needed him to move as they were confiscating this table also.
Soon there was silence. Birds could be heard singing outside the windows. Children could be seen heading to school. He picked up his last luggage and opening the door stepped outside and closed the door gently behind him.
Not knowing where he was going his feet stepped one in front of the other. By nightfall nothing had changed and he had a taste of his first real home in a box. He had earned it. It was fully his, and it was paid for.
Sleep came with difficulty. He laid in his blanket-made bed and watched others standing over canisters of heat. Warming their fingers as fall was beginning to enter. As his eyes closed he was having visions of the people he had frauded. All night, each night haunting dreams of people holding their arms out, begging for mercy. Asking for their doors to be once again opened.
In the mornings he rubbed his eyes as tears had filled the pockets and grief over took him. Each morning he walked and hunted for food like a caveman looking for his family. Walking the streets, the only visitors were his own shadows in store front windows, he was lonely, down and out.
The first snow had fallen and he had rummaged through a dumpster and found a ragged blanket. Pulling the cover closer to his nose, he began to weep. He looked towards the heavens and pleaded for forgiveness. He admitted he was wrong. He needed to have one more chance to prove that he was worthy of living.
The next morning he was walking his routine streets and he saw a folded piece of paper. He looked around to see if someone had just dropped it. Seeing no one reaching for it, he leaned down, weary and tired, bloodshot eyes and picked it up.
Fingers fumbled as he walked over to the metal sidewalk bench and sat down. He opened it up and saw one simple sentence. Very few words but with great meaning. He looked up to the skies and the first genuine smile crossed his face. He looked down once again to read the words, you have been forgiven.
Her blog page is
Marilyn has touched my heart in so many ways. She lives in Kentucky and I live in Indiana.
She went way out of her way and she and her husband drove up here to see Al and of course me.
With her she brought Al many smiles and good memories. He will never ever forget her as she sent him a coca cola hat.
He will not wear it as he told me, ” I could get it dirty.”
Marilyn, thank-you for the awards and thank-you for being so kind to Al. We will never forget the meal we shared together as good friends.
I have nominated so many people over the year that I am not sure who I have shared with and who I have not.
The rules for these awards are to
Tell me 10 things about yourself that you find interesting
Nominate some good souls who you feel would love to have these on their blog profiles.
What I am going to do is leave it up to you. If you have not enjoyed either or both of these awards, please accept them as a gift from me. Enjoy them, place them on your blog home page, and smile just a bit for me today.
Love you Marilyn and big hugs. Some day I hope to see you again.
Weekly Photo Challenge, Theme of the Week
This is where my husband was stationed and worked when we lived in Germany. Picture of…
My husband and I drove by this castle many times.
This is a small video of where my daughter was born in Bad Cannstatt, Germany.
Sergent lay gasping for air. His lungs filled with smoke. His nose was dry to the touch. Lying on his side, ribs digging into his soul he fights to make it. Refusing to give up what he is taught, to win.
To be patted on the head, have his belly rubbed. To get his favorite treats, to hear his master’s words of praise, this is what Sergent lived for.
Born on the outskirts of Columbus, Ohio Sergent was one of six pups. Bottle fed and being the runt of the litter made his life a struggle from the moment of his first breath. Yet he thrived out of the entire littler. One other pup, who had been born first, died.
Thus, he was named Sergent because he was a born fighter and survivor. Handled with care and a gentle push to be the best he grew into a well-rounded happy pup. At a young age Sergent was taken one day into the strong and yet somehow comforting hands of a giant.
It only took a few days of his new master showing love when Sergent began to follow Mike where ever he was allowed to go. Sergent was eager to show Mike that he loved him. He wanted to earn his respect.
The young pup and his owner worked and played hard on a daily routine. Hard runs, training and lots of treats. Firm commands and frisky playing made Sergent the best damn dog Mike had ever trained.
It wasn’t long that when Mike woke up in the mornings Sergent was already a wake with one eye on his master waiting for breakfast and a full day of activities. When Mike attended to the other animals on the property Sergent was right there, making sure Mike did it all right.
The two friends could recognize each others moods by a certain tone in voices, or a slowness in walk. These two ate their meals at the same time and slept in the same bed.
One day their time was up. With tears in Mike’s eyes and a whimpering for his master, Sergent was handed over to another pair of hands. These hands were worn and blistered but steady. The leash held firmly yet with a gentleness and pride. Sergent couldn’t help but keep looking back as he was commanded to get into the jeep. From the moment the engine was started until there was not one speck in sight, Sergent stared after Mike.
When he could no longer see his master, Sergent laid down on the seat, trying to nap, thinking of the face he had grown to love. When they got to his new home, it was hot and very dry. Instantly his tongue started to droop but before he could try to swallow; a large bowl of water was placed in front of his face.
Sergent looked up at this stranger and thanked him with his eyes. Another bowl was placed beside the water bowl. Dog food mixed and wetted with table scraps. Once again Sergent looked up into those eyes and caught a familiar sight. A smile with pearly white teeth. Their eyes met and from that moment forward there was a connection.
Sergent would never forget Mike, but now that he was with Frank, he knew he was safe. The following day new classes were introduced to Sergent, who by now was a machine-made out of firm muscle. Strong legs stood at attention. Tail, sleek and smooth, head poised, and yet standing tall at attention.
These classes were a harsher training. No more rough housing. Training for sniffing out enemy bombs. Hidden trenches full of enemies. Sergent and Frank didn’t have the same kind of relationship that he and Mike did.
In this relationship he was named King, a nickname by the platoon for his excellent work. At chow time Sergent sat at the doorway of the tent but with a click of a finger he was at the side of anyone who was willing to give up a bit of their own food.
In no time at all, Sergent was allowed to venture ahead of the troop, clearing the way for progress. Day after day King kept his buddies safe and secure. Friends and family members sent King more packaged gifts than the troop. He became the first one to be in line at mail call.
It was a happy family. Hard work, early to bed, good food and a nice comfortable bed made out of old blankets.
King had lived with his platoon for nearly a year when the tragic accident happened. He missed his mark. No one knows what happened. Was it the change in air? Was it too much dust and sand? Was King not feeling well that day? There were no answers.
All I was told was that King walked into a sand pit filled with grenades. He lay there breathing hard. His lungs filled with sand. His nose dry. Their eyes met. There were no smiles. Instead there were tears coming from Frank’s eyes. Sergent heard the compassion in his owner’s voice. The love between the two forced King to give it all he had. To fight for his life.
He fought hard. Given sips of water, pats on the head, and a new blanket to cover his body, Sergent gave his last breath and his life for his troop. Hats lowered, knees bent, in the heat of the sun, men mourned.