So Far Removed

The towering cold metal structures, adorned of glass, the bright orange of the sun mirrored in the reflections. The valleys, the peaks against the cobalt sky. Puffy white clouds circle. Accentuating the man made mercantile formations. At night in the cold of winter, as the northern wind howls , outcasts seek refuge at the base. Protection from nature’s wrath in their cardboard shelters. No thoughts of tomorrow; only survival of another night.

Within the shadows of the tall ships, ruin, rubble, despair, desolation. Vacant parcels of land strangled by weeds and tall grass. Untenanted buildings that might collapse if a whisper was uttered near the empty windowpane . Decaying roofs; shattered dreams. Gutters and downspouts disappear. The only treasures saved by the looters. Gutted, condemned buildings. The safe haven for those inclined to slip off into a drug induced coma. A fusion of odors - vomit, urine, feces - permeates the air.

The sprawl of the urban region reaches outward as an octopus stretching to grasp it’s prey. Neighborhoods lined with apartments and flats. Trendy lofts. Brick and wooden bungalows with their manicured lawns and flower gardens dot the various streets. Yet, still within the danger zone. In the back of their minds, a single word lingers. “when?”

The further from the city’s heart, the heartless congregate. The “Occupant”, “Resident”, “Our Neighbor” at 11430 Hummingbird Ln. reads an article in the morning news , as he/she sips hot coffee and mutters. “What a shame.” I look in their mirror and sadly see my reflection.

A New Day

Sunday morning was a day of reckoning. I discovered that day that my life has suffered from at least one major flaw in character. I have incessantly taken things or people for granted. The thousands of sunrises and equal number of sunsets witnessed never truly inspired the awe held by most. I uttered the customary phrases, but never with heart felt sincerity.

But Sunday was different. As I drove to work, the sun yawned, stretched and began its ascent into the morning sky. The brilliant fiery orb appeared in my rearview mirror, blinding me, as it slowly made its way past the horizon. The fluffy cotton ball clouds took on an orangish tinge and seemed to part as a stage curtain might as Act 1 got under way. At the sight of this new dawn, it suddenly dawned on me that I finally understood the beauty of it all.

As I drove on, I actually felt an unexplained excitement when I observed a tree , it’s leaves having turned a bright autumnal hue. Further along the route, a diminutive artificial lake partially obscured by trees. A picturesque setting where one could sit, absent of any thought and be content. Newly planted mums highlighting the corporate structures along the ribbon of highway. My mind turned to an image of a single rose and the importance of life’s purpose.

My thoughts then turned to those friends and loved ones of the past who I soured by my flaw. I can’t erase my mistakes; I can only offer an apology, both genuine and sincere.

I eagerly await the approaching holiday season. Although it will be celebrated in solitude, I will savor the customs of the past with much more sensitivity. Whatever the fare for Thanksgiving, I will be grateful for the new experiences. The warmth of the oven and the delicious aroma of the strawberry bread at Christmas will bring me cheer. I’ll still delight in my eggnog on New Year’s Eve with a new jubilation, but won’t discover the splendor of a New Year unfolding until the morn.

The Truth Is: Just like Sunday.