part two : the sun peaks through

. . . . . there i was.  alone.  the truck rides always gave me time to think.  no matter if i was going down the street, or driving to get the hell away from the problem.  but this time was different.  i left, for good.  the windshield wiper’s rubber rubbing and drawing the rain away from the obstructed view of the road ahead, once again, clear view.  depending on what song that was playing on my strategic playlist, i’d flip through my ferris wheel of thoughts, usually.  but today was different.  i didn’t turn on the song for thought.  i was just driving.  zoned out on the road ahead.  numb.  //  the rain slowly comes to an end.  the milky grey sky drifts past and leaves a clear blue horizon.  on the road where i travel, the sun peaks through a crack in the cloud, leaving  sun rays painted upon the canvas sky, depicting what i like to think as a stairway leading to heaven.  i always had a thought of what my life was going to be like.  i guess, more like a dream.  not anything like i was living at this moment.  but i suppose that, that wouldn’t be realistic.  a life with no problems, no anger, never having to live from paycheck to paycheck and never feeling the pain of falling out of love.  what a life. that wasn’t mine.  //  one hundred and twenty miles driven, i start feeling  the weight on my shoulders.  what have i done?   what have i done?, other than make two people disappointed and broken-hearted.   and then i remembered as quickly as i have forgotten, the arguments and the lack of feelings we shared.   the questions in my mind start to repeat themselves,  like a madman in a padded cell.   but i cant let the feeling  of defeat win, or hold me down  in chances to start a new.  each day is mine for the taking. taking command like a captain and his ship. this is me and my day.  selfishness vs. actually putting myself first.  for once.  breaking down my walls.  it is about me.  //   the day gave into night, i stop for the rest.   i pull into the hotel’s parking lot and head in.   i ask for a room and check in.  the smell of the hotel reminds me of past vacations.  i think that every hotel smells this way.  a mixture of cleanliness,  pool chlorine, with a hint of cigarette smoke.  the lady hands me a key and tells me that check out is at eleven and the continental breakfast is served at seven.  sending me on my way.  walking past the pool and down a dim-lit hall, i find room one-forty-three.  walking  in, i tossed the key onto the side table and locked the door behind me.  i looked around and kind of laughed at the site i was welcomed in to.  there in front of me laid awful red carpet and purple velvet curtains and walls wallpapered with painted on strands of ivy.  i checked in, in 2013,  but obviously paid for 1965.   i first get ready for a nice hot shower.  i undress and reach for the towel.  i wash off the days burden and dry off.  i walk out in my towel and turn on the sports channel.  and it was then when i turned around, that, in the earlier argument and driving off, i didn’t grab any clothes.  no hair or tooth-brush, no change of clothes.  i was gonna rough it without roughing it.  so i  change into the same clothes i had on before, and ran to the local store.  grabbing some impromptu dinner and a new casual outfit, brushes for my hair and teeth, deodorant and such, i drive back to my time warped room.  i eat and relax on the bed.  lying there watching the t.v., flipping through the local channels.  i always find it funny to watch out-of-town newscast stations, when ive become accustomed to the ones back home.  dozing off during the late show, i turn off the light on t.v., and roll over to my sleeping position. the silence was deafening at first.  out of habit, i reach my arm over, trying to reach for you.  to hold on to you.  but all that was there was stiff  hotel cotton blankets and sheets. i reposition the pillows .  two pillows for my head and one that i hold in my arms, that acts as you. . . . . . .  c.2013 BGW

part one : a crumbling foundation

. . . . . . . greyish dark clouds loom in the sky above.  a slow and steady curtain of rain softly falls down on me below.  i slammed that front door so many times,  that  i’ve  forgotten the count.  but somehow i knew, in the back of my mind, it was the last time.  complete defeat overwhelmed my heart.  but there i stood, in the rain, my hardened eyes, looking back to house that stood knee-deep in arguments, and back to my truck that could take me out to find peace that i deeply needed, desired.  there, in the pouring rain, the two paths collided into a crossroad that demanded an answer right then and there.  there, realizing that i could go back in,  temporarily fixing the damage  until the next big blow up, or i could get in that truck and find a new beginning, my new day’s dawn. //  there inside the house, stood the one i fell in love with years prior.  i loved her from the beginning.   but the feeling has changed now, thanks to layers of arguments and disagreements and the amount differences.  we both knew it was going to be a tough marriage from the start, but someway thought that we could work it all out through the mixture of  time,  love and God.  you see, even before we got married, we both had walls. walls made with a mortar mixture of hurt and distrust.  fort knox walls.  i grew to know it was deeper than that, it went deeper than anyone could ever understand. and as good as i thought i was, i thought i was the wrecking ball, ready to demolish those walls.  but over the years, the wanting to become better,  for each other, the cleaving of two married people, still had yet to happen.  falling more in love with each other, with each passing day, had become stagnant and a chore.  the seeking, the searching for that happiness, turned to a dark burden within the home.// but that’s only a small brick in our crumbling foundation.  the fingers pointed to both of us, not to one or the other.   but at this moment, is  a relationship, of two married adults,  hanging  in the balance, sinking at the intersection of  dead-end and what lies ahead.   above me, a large thunder clash, snapping me back to the immediate situation that sits in front of me.  with  rain rolling down my face,  i look once more at the house of fallen cards and i quickly grab the handle to the truck, open its door, get in and started the engine.  and as soon as  i push in the clutch and turn the ignition,  i drive away. that was it.  i now knew that this was the last time in that driveway,  the last time of  being  part of my home there.  hands shaking, heart beating. feeling the hurt. a tear mixes  in with a  bead  rain  on my face.  i never did look in that rear view mirror.  and as i came across the end of the driveway, there was the open road.   looking left, looking right. possibility after possibility.   no wrong answers,  no yelling,  just the road.  and at that moment i knew where i was headed . . . . . . . .c. 2012 BGW

one autumn saturday

. . . . . six o’clock, in the a.m.  i wake from my deep relaxing slumber. the dawns light slowly meets the twilight sky of the  evening and grows brighter, i wipe my eyes. the rooms cool feel surrounds, as i unwrap myself from the comfort warmth of the flannel sheets. i rest my feet upon the carpet, still reluctant to remove myself  from the comfort of sleep.  the fibers of the carpet surround my toes. i give myself a long stretch, arms above my head, torso stretched. i walk myself on over to the kitchen, where the comfort of the carpet turns to a cooler touch of wooden floor. i turn to the coffee maker, and glance out the window. eyes adjusting, seeing the overcast sky through a light frosted window pane. and the longing for summer formed in my head, and i chuckled. outside the window, the maple tree leaves rustle, as the morning breeze quickly blows through. thankful that i am inside,  i grab a mug off of the hook, and set it in the holder, and the coffee starts brewing for my cup. saturday morning, seven a.m. starting the day. //  i let you sleep in for a while. i head for the shower.  pulling  back the brown and mint curtain and pulling  the knob out and over to the hottest position. as i wait for the hot water to commence, i brush my teeth, shave my face and count the grey hairs that snuck in the night prior. after i started to lose count, a heavy steam starts rolling through, covering the mirror, and  i head to the shower. after all is done, i dry myself off with the soft cotton, matching  mint,  towel and dress myself  for a cool autumn day. // i open the side door to the garage, and flip the switch. the fluorescent flickers, buzzes and turns on. tripping over all the left over summer garage sale junk, that is piled up in stalemate, i stumble over to my local hardware store’s , fall special rake. i grab it from off the wall’s hook,  and lift open the heavy garage door panel. i walk out on the driveway and look over the yard. i pick out my starting point which is  the lower left portion of the property. it’s where the mighty oak lives. fifty years, to be exact. and it’s where the most leaves had fallen. start with the hardest and end with the easiest. there are other trees in the yard, but none that added up to this elder of trees. the cool autumn breeze had turned cooler, and i pull the jacket together to zip it up. i continue. as i am half way through the front yard’s  project, i notice that you are  up and awake. standing there on the front porch, in your p.j.’s covered by a thick cotton robe,  waiting for me to notice you. i look up, and see you sip on your coffee. and behind your cup, you give me a distant good morning smile. motioning  me to come join you, you hand me a newly brewed cup of coffee. the cool air draws massive steam to the java.  kiss you good morning, hug me love. i take another sip and head back to the project at hand. you head back in quickly, because you hate the cold, but love it from the comfort of the warm window inside. i smirk, and rake till i’m done. leaves headed to their new home, in the compost pile, where they will contribute to the springs renewal. i look around and take note of all the other pre-winter chores i have to get done. i write them down, tuck the list in my back pocket and save them for another day.// lunchtime. i head in, and see that you are already ten steps ahead of me, and have it ready for me. i freshen up with some water to the face and up to the elbows, i clean up.  i look in the mirror, still bothered by the grey hair count. you laugh, and tell me that you like it, and that it makes me  look distinguished.  a quiet sigh and an unseen roll of the eye, we both laugh. we both eat and relax on the couch and make plans for the rest of the day, grocery store, movie madness afternoon. lazy saturday afternoon. never leaving the house, never leaving the comfort of each other’s arms, under the afghan blanket.  and within the first fifteen minutes of the first movie, one autumn saturday we shared, we fell asleep . . . . . .