Ghosts in the fire

The sun hangs muted in a grey sky. Ocean breezes are chilled though it's not cold yet I have a fire in the Cheminea for comfort more than warmth. The birds are silent while squirrels frolic in the trees. Soft music streams proclaiming everyone's gone to the moon.  Holiness reigns and I feel Angels though I can't see them.


I sit in prayer but it's a perplexing one sided conversation.

God doesn't feel like talking so I finally shut up and stare at the fire.

Sarah meanders into the kitchen, lost in thought drinking coffee while writing herself notes.

The sun escapes the clouds and for a second everything is bright but it doesn't last and grey returns.

The faces of old friends dance in the flames as I continue to stare. One after another they parade pass though they are long gone from me. We were close once but they were moments in time and have moved out of my life.

I wonder if they ever think about me.

I was really there for them, pulling strings and doing magic, helping them get to where they wanted to go. Most never said "Thanks", just taking what they needed and moving on.

Why am I thinking about them now?

Throwing Palm fronds in the fire, they crackle and hiss chasing the ghosts away.

The vacuum cleaner sucks and blows from inside the house reminding me there are things to be done. A few friends arrive later today for fellowship. Afterwards, we'll make our way to the American Legion for an hour of good music.

"Hey God," I say out loud, "you don't have to say anything but I appreciate the friends I've still got. They're damn good ones! Sarah too! I don't know what I'd do without her. All the kids! That's all. Just thanks."

As I turn to walk inside the sun bursts brilliantly through the clouds.
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