Papa

"Your grandmother and I lived in a watchtower the first summer we were married, you know. I got a job in Washington state in forest protection to live up there and watch for fires. We didn't have any electricity or running water and our bathroom was a outhouse. There was a cold stream about a quarter mile from our tower and that's where we kept our food, in a wooden box you just put in the water and weighed down with rocks. We kept our butter and milk and soda pop in there."

I sat silently, hanging on to every word. I love his voice, I love his stories. So many times I have sat and listened to him tell the same story. Sometimes he would ask if I had heard the story he was telling before, most of the time I had, but he will never know that, I just want to hear it again, I just want to hear him tell it at least one more time.

"One time your Nanny went to the stream to go get us some soda pop. She was just a little way off when she saw tire tracks leading right up to where our box was. Well she started running and when she got there she found that all the food had been stolen right out of it. She just laid right down there and cried, remember she was just 17."

He laughed and his eyes crinkled at the memory, of the first summer with my grandma as newlyweds.

"I only got to go to town twice that first summer. I remember the first time I went all I wanted was a barber haircut and an ice cream. So the first thing I did when I got to town was get that ice cream."

"Remember your Papa was only 19 at the time," Mom chimed in.

"Yep, I surely was," Papa went quiet, lost in thought and memory.

I sat and watched him, he looked so much older than even just a few days ago when I had seen him last. I guess the stress of the past few weeks on top of sleepless nights due to worry had caught up with him. It broke my heart. This was my Papa, he was supposed to live forever.

"I made your grandma a bathing suit that year, out of a terry cloth towel. Well, she and I both made it together."

"What did you do? Wrap it around like a diaper?" Mom asked.

Papa laughed, "No, I actually made a bikini!"

We all started laughing. My grandparents are two of the happiest married people I have ever known.

"One night we were walking back up the mountain from a friends house after dinner. It gets cold, even in the summer, on the mountain at night, and it was a half mile walk back to the tower. Your grandma was wearing shorts and she started to get cold. I was wearing blue jeans with my .22 revolver on a gun belt. I stopped on took off my blue jeans and gave them to your grandma to wear. I put my gun belt back on over my underwear and told her, 'I feel naked without my gun.'"

Art

I remember wanting to be an artist when I was younger. I would draw and doodle all day long, making little pictures with their little characters who always led interesting and exciting lives.
I wanted to draw the world for people; paint a landscape you felt like you were apart of. I wanted to sketch something meaningful, a response to what was going on in my world.
I wanted to make a picture of the world the way I saw it, pointing out the beauties of the little things. The glossy beetle in the garden, the way the clouds cast their shadows, paying attention to the often overlooked things.
I wanted to be an artist, but I was not gifted in the visual arts.

I grew up and could not paint what I so often envisioned in my mind. The sketches I would work so hard on fell short of the goal. It didn't take long before I stopped doodling all together.
I can't paint the world with oils and brushes. I can't sketch the pictures in my mind.

But I have words. I can still let you glimpse the way I see the world. The written word can be used in so many ways. I can still fulfill everything I wanted to with my sketchings and drawings. In a way, I think I will be more satisfied using my dictionary and thesaurus than I would be with charcoal and canvases. I can be ambiguous, thought provoking, or I can be bold, and blatant. I can still accomplish what I wanted to.

I am the artist who cannot draw a straight line.

Getting up out of the chair was the hardest, but her hear sang despite it.

A quick kiss on his forehead and she was out of the room, while he was still enthralled with Resident Evil 5. Opening the fridge she gathered up the little purchases they made earlier that day. Within a few minutes the kitchen was filled with the sounds and smell of her cooking.

"Mmmm, I smell something delicious!" A form emerges from the dim lit room. It adds to the creepiness. "Should I go back in there and stay until you are done?" A quick smile and nod and back into the lair he went.

The table cloth was rumpled, the candles were half burned out to begin with, but that didn't matter.
The bread finally done and table set, just for two, and dinner was ready.
Hands were folded, blessings and thanks given, and the meal was enjoyed. Plates were put away, a plate of hot cookies and icy cold glasses of milk were set.

And the two were happy. For that evening, stresses and cares were set aside.

Goodbye came. The door was locked and the curtain pulled aside waiting for that one last gesture before the vanishing. Two steps and he was on the ground, another half step and full and he turned, blew a kiss, and went out of sight.

And still her heart sang.

"Will you?"

It was quiet, very quiet. The kind of quiet that only follows a heavy snow.
We had walked the woods in the morning, feeling like we were in Narnia.

The rest of the day was spent watching Heroes, napping, and playing "hidden object" games on the computer.
It was quiet,
it was amazing.

The sun went down and the stars came out, the clouds having vacated their place in the sky hours before.

We pulled on our snow gear, one mitten was missing, I guess it decided the woods were much more fun than my hands. The mitten was switched between hands many times during the walk.

The field had been undisturbed, the snow sparkled under the crescent moon's light.
"I'll tell you a story if you promise not to tell anyone."

"I promise."

We continued to walk, heading into the woods, following the deer tracks, stopping ever so often to look at the stars, and see our breath in the air.

"Wow, you know how long I have been waiting for this? I've been waiting years for a night like this, to go out in the snow and look at the stars. Because when I was younger I couldn't go out at night to look at the stars, and then when I got older there wasn't any snow."

"Yeah, you have been waiting your whole life for this night."

He got to one knee, I could barely see him in the darkness.

"Meg, will you marry me?

I said yes.