Postcards from the edge

[Ayshela]

i haven't active brain cells to write more than this right now, but if i don't write it i'll forget it and i may wish to do something with it later. If this isn't where this belongs, i trust one of our kind Elders can place it appropriately.

 

~~~

 

i've taken my cel phone out to the porch, praying to the cellular gods for more than a moment's reception. The stars shine brightly, out here. The blue backlight looks oddly like reflected starlight as i sit hoping to connect to voice mail. (success! The cellular gods are kind tonight.)

 

As i sit on the worn porch steps listening to your voice calling across the miles, the scene before me is as oddly conflicted as is my heart. Overgrown rosebushes, a lawn which needs mowing, off in the distance the glaring lights from the oil refinery. Yet in between, across the road but near enough to wander into, summer night's mist is stealing over the fields. Gossamer light ribbons of mist slipping easily over the green expanse, hugging the warm ground and gently breathing cool moisture onto each waiting plant within its reach.

 

i sit and watch the changing mists, then rise and wander back into the house realizing how much i miss you.

[Ayshela]

Gods in heaven, the rain is blinding, even with the wipers on high. Downpouring rain mixed with oily spray from the other vehicles on the road shortens visibility and forces my straying thoughts fully back to driving. I'm so tired. I'm glad your flight included such a long layover. It's been years since we could wander aimlessly about, speaking of anything - or nothing - in our own two part harmony. I've missed that. I've missed you.

 

Now i've set you winging your way back home. I've a hundred miles of freeway on which to hear your voice, feel your gentle touch, watch as you take back that part of my heart which is always with you - and walk away again.

 

Now i must watch my driving. This morning the heavens cry for me, since i cannot.