Ethel Marie Shamoon Henry, married and Catholic, daughter of two and Situ to one, died age 89 of complications while agonizing over the last pages of her memoir. She couldn’t remember the details upon which she left her home at age 16, mentally or 17, physically? She never understood her life not turning out the way she dreamed – college educated, managing her own business, traveling the globe. Ethel was tired.
She was tired of this story. Tired of her life without the
education she longed for and the places she wanted to live and traveled after
she’d raised her own children, she was just tired!
Her REAL exhaustion came when she decided to prepare her own obituary and thought to herself – dang woman – haven’t you had enough?When will you begin living the life you wanted? Dreamed of? Longed for? Or, have you been all along, but just hadn’t noticed it in full? Give it up! Turn it over! Live this day the way you want – with whom you want – say what you mean – but, DON’T say it mean! Life is short! Remember, your last sunset. Your last words to those closest to you. The last color you saw. The last bird you heard. The last smile you smiled, The last laugh you laughed. The last prayer you uttered. Remember, smile, laugh and move on.
Move on to TODAY! Are you ready? She opened her eyes while lying peacefully in a down covered hammock next to her pond and waterfall oasis, gazed up at the clouds and said – Yes! It’s been a good life! A Full life! I have loved. I have been loved. I’ve colored, created art and captured. I’ve said what I wanted to say, traveled much, walked and hiked often. And I married a man who loved me until my dying breath. I’m ready.
Just then, her eyes closed again, and this time, she had a soft, childlike smile upon her face, the sun was setting in the west with a rainbow of colors like the one she’d seen so many years ago upon Max Patch. As she exhaled her last breath. Finally, Ethel was at peace and rest. – Amen.
Services will be held in the local Catholic Church with On Eagle’s Wings playing as she is escorted to the grave site of her beloved sister, Roxane. All are welcomed to visit now and again. Bring your favorite heart rock and share one with another. Dark chocolate and coffee to be served.
Where does love go when the light goes out? A question he asked once as a young man in his 60’s . He doesn’t remember asking these days. However, the question is a good one and has remained with me. How to answer this? Love is always present within every human being I believe. For some, a place in the dark could also represent a place of silence, loneliness, or the sound of mental chatter grinding away while one wishes for a lover’s embrace.
As a child, I recall needing two doors left wide open, and a nightlight on at all times in order to feel safe enough to close my eyes and attempt to go to sleep. Where was love in this dark twin bed on the third floor of Macon Avenue?
Lullabys are lazy and fluid – like a warm summer breeze or a slow moving river
– a summer breeze that ever so lightly ruffles the thin window sheers,
– or a slow moving river that barely carries the thick blanket of pollen to the ocean like a giant barge moving train cars through a canal in winter, not as fast as an inch worm.
Lullabys, like this summer breeze, sometimes brings with it a fragrant smell of honeysuckle followed by a hint of clover and wild roses. A smell that’s so intoxicating and memorable. That smell alone, whispers a lullaby that spring has become summer.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Remember the familiar lullaby that begins:
hush little baby, don’t you cry now sings….
honeysuckle and clover will soon visit to soothe your tired eyes
the sun shines through the sheers letting you know – you are not alone
hush little baby, don’t you cry beckons…
the doves play outside your window, playing leap frog or piggy back over pillows
hush little baby, don’t you cry…
the river’s singing a whisper to sleep soundly, all is well, make a wish upon the fireflies and soon the night sky will light up like the 4th of July.
hush little baby, don’t you cry … close your eyes … wish upon a star … dry your tears — smell the the sky… and dream of fireflies on the 4th of July.
speak up in the presence of adults, unless spoken to first.(Implied not ‘told’)
Let’s examine the NEVERS:
#1. Talk to strangers? If one is lost, you must ask a stranger how to get home.
#2. Sit on the toilet seat. – I TOTALLY agree with this one ~ Never !
#3. Speak up in the presence of adults. – Totally disagree. If I never speak up in the presence of adults, the lesson learned is my value is unimportant and it’s better to remain invisible.
The preceding was a prompt from my latest Writing Workshop with Victoria Fann.
I thoroughly enjoy writing prompts and what comes when I let go. Below is another reply to this same prompt, that manifested itself a few days later.
Called to Write 