So this is Christmas.

Speak

The quiet scares me because it screams the truth.

The truth that you don’t remember me anymore.

Your calls don’t flash on my phone, no messages from you to light up the screen.

Maybe I was just a temporary confidante – you got your job done and now, I sit like a piece of discarded trash on the roadside.

And to think I trusted you, with everything. You trusted me too, didn’t you? That night, when we watched the passing time heal your burning wounds – would you have let anyone else in on that dark secret?

Maybe you could have, I don’t know, but you didn’t – it was just me.

Where does that leave me now? Your counsel, no longer required, trashed.

You could say hello, you know – it wouldn’t kill you.

 The silence is killing me.

For Sam.

I'm sorry that I can't tell you how I feel.
I'm sorry that these words that you read are the only way I can talk to anyone about anything. 
I know you're there and I know you won't judge me but this is the only way. 


Remember the old days? When we were young and life hadn't tripped us over yet.
Times when we thought everything we knew would last forever, that everything would be as perfect as it was at that moment. 
Now the only memories we have of that time are buried six feet under, a treasure trove at the bottom of your garden.
There will come a time when we are ready to look back on those days and those pieces of history will seem, well, historical. 


For we have made memories beyond the ones we froze in time. 
We have outlasted the cataclysmic storms that found their way into our paths.
We haven't forgotten each other. 


Thank you, Sam, for the inspiration; here's to you, a celebration.

Confusion is nothing new.

Seeing his name flashing on the caller identity made her heart flip over. Hearing his voice, deep and endearing, say ‘hello’ gave her inevitable tingles and put a happy smile on her face. Five minutes into a conversation and she was hooked, to say the least. They’ discuss everything, territory that others dared to venture.  For hours they’d talk, losing track of time in the other’s company. It was all perfect.

Or so she thought.

He’d mentioned them, quite a few times, but she’d come to realize that he’d moved on from his old self and was now looking for a change. Someone new. Someone like her?

I’m in love with someone.

Oh. Who?

You’re going to think I’m a real idiot…

Tell me.

I know she’ll never say yes to me or feel the same way…

Just tell me.

The name that followed was not hers.

And it broke her heart.

To think of the hours they’d passed, the secrets they’d shared and the tears she’d cried over things she could tell only him. He’d talked of love and left devastation in it’s wake.

I need you to help me.

What’s wrong now?

I need to get this off my chest. I don’t care what she says. Tell me what to do.

With a heavy heart,

You have to tell her.

I don’t know what to say. Will you help me?

Almost in tears,

Of course.

Thank you. I knew I could count on you.

She didn’t know exactly he told her or how she had responded but frankly, she didn’t care anymore. Or did she?

He had painted a picture of his perfect girl for her, a long time ago when she did care, and in an instant she’d known who fit the description.

Down-to-earth, cute, funny, someone he could have a conversation with, someone who didn’t have a huge ego, someone who loves food, loves little kids and wasn’t afraid of adventure.

He’d been talking about her.

It broke her to think that, even though she didn’t want to admit it, she still did care. As long as she’d live, she’d think back to those few hours and wonder where she’d gone wrong. She’d wonder why he couldn’t see what was right in front of him. Blinded, blinded by love and feelings gone amiss for someone else who they both knew would never feel the same way about him.

By day, she’d dream of what could have been. By night, she’d pray for the tears that ran down her face and for the knives that stabbed at her heart – she just wanted it to stop.

But she didn’t want to stop feeling that way about him.

She couldn’t, even if she wanted to.

Closing Time

December brought...mixed emotions. 
Overwhelming happiness.
Crippling despair.


Why? We all have to leave at sometime.
But why does it have to be now?


We all know that at inevitably, all good things come to an end. That doesn't prepare us for the heartache and the numbing void the separation leaves behind. Moving forward is difficult enough without having to be pulled back by what we are forced to leave behind. 

Hope is contagious. Really?

'Letters to God' is just something else. At first, writing to someone who's address and whereabouts are technically impossible to reach - at least in this lifetime - seems like a waste. A waste of ink, paper and possible hours of thought that went into it. But in the end, it's just personal solace that we're seeking. The assumption that He will read our letters and 'reply'. It's just to give us the assurance that someone cares. 

There's something else. The postman. He was just a lost soul looking for redemption yet his answers to the letters are what started the revolution. So, we may be writing to a Higher Power only to find that it is right in our midst, in the people we least expect to find it. It lives among us, in us.

This is a suddenly spiritual feeling, I know, but it really struck me.

I might just try writing a letter to Him. 

Wordplay.

People make mistakes in what they do but the mistakes that hurt the most are the ones that are said. 
Say what you need to say, by all means. Just, think a minute before you do to make sure you actually mean what you say. 
An ambush of lies. Half-truths? 
The worst thing is, it actually sounds like the truth. 
And the truth, though actually a lie, falls tenderly on an unsuspecting ear. 
When the lie is revealed, it is too late.


Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we begin to deceive. 


One can tell the 'truth' was a lie only from it's sting.
You can't take back what you've said, you can't change what the other person felt when you said it. The damage has already been done. 
Next time, make up your mind before you open your mouth.