Saying Good-Bye

As she was leaving the library, she noticed that she had missed a call from her mother. As she listened to the message, her heart squeezed.

"I'm sorry to call you on your work cell, but I am trying to reach you. Your uncle is in the hospital. It doesn't look good."

Star Light

A star shines alone in the night. Its light streams down to dissipate amongst the small group of people kneeling in the snow. A wail of a child calls to the star, asking for its light. A mother hugs the baby closer, tears rolling down her face. She smothers the child with kisses and tenderly lays her babe down on a bed of furs. Slowly, the adults surrounding the mother creep away, leaving the mother to say her goodbyes. The mother hangs her head, tears falling upon the babe's face. She gently wipes them off and kisses her child one more time, whispering a blessing as she stands. The mother slowly moves away, not allowing herself to look back.

Deceptive Appearances

            He needed a woman.  Not just any woman would do, but a petite woman who was fiercely independent and thought she was tough.  Well, that is what he wanted, anyway, to make the chase that much more fun.  He loved it when a little woman realized just how small she truly was under his demanding and brutal tutelage.  He leaned back in the chair that he occupied in a street side cafe, watching the people walk past him, oblivious to the havoc he could wreak upon their lives if he so chose.  A smirk briefly crossed his lips, quickly dissipating at the approach of one of the servers of the café.

             

Mother, Daughter

She was young to become a mother, only sixteen. Yet, a mother she became. A daughter had a daughter, becoming a mother, but what it was to be an adult, she still had yet to discover. She took steps down her path, made her way through a woods that became twisted, full of quagmires and brambles. Her daughter was her focus, a reason to survive anyway that she could. Her ties with her own parents became strained, love there, but not always acknowledged.

The Blind Warrior

The warrior stands alone,

Remembering past battles fought,

And in that memory claims his demons own.

With his sword, foes are laid prone,

But still he dreams of wars battled for naught.

The warrior stands alone.

The Lone Traveler

The first glimpse showed sharp-planed hardness,

A deadly edge, harnessed.

            The first conversation, unexpected connection,

            Self-proclaimed tendency towards sociopathic reaction.

                                                                                                            Male version me.

                        Martial art, knives, travel, humor, all.

The Forgotten Battle

Overseas, the Second Great War raged on,

The bayonets did rattle.

American soil felt war in the predawn;

The Forgotten Battle.

Stepping Out On My Own

I stared at the email, having trouble believing what I was reading was true.  I tore upstairs to tell my mom the news: there had been a cancellation by another student, freeing up a space, and my application had been accepted!  If I could get everything ready, in two weeks I would be in Scotland to participate in a six-month school program with Youth With a Mission!  If this was to happen, there was much to consider and do in such a short time frame.  I had only been working at my coffee shop for a short number of months, but it was a job I loved and did not wish to lose.  I also had a couple of relationship dilemmas.  A strained friendship needed mending and I was struggling to understand the fledgling romantic relationship I found myself on the verge of entering.  But Scotland and the unknown called!  I let everyone know and threw myself into preparing for the trip.  Those two hectic weeks flew by, and before I knew it, I was preparing to board a plane that was taking me to one of the most pivotal seasons in my life.

She Stole My Heart

I stared out the window, watching the dry landscape go past. I did not want to do this. Every time we went back, it became increasingly difficult to step out of the bus and into the orphanage. I moved my gaze from the passing scenery and looked around at the people in the sparsely populated bus. It was taken up mainly by my group, a mixture of French, American, Swiss, Chilean, and British students, with a scattering of Ankara residents. When the bus stopped, only my group moved to get off, though Juan waited for me so that we disembarked together. He understood how hard this was for me.