In the Mist

I wrote this a couple of years ago, it haunts me still...

It's a misty, early morning. I'm sitting, alone, at a small table which itself sits on the veranda of a very large old house. Though I haven't explored the place fully, I know that the veranda wraps around the entire house. Though I don't recall having gone inside, I somehow know that the house is large, very large and has many comfortable and spacious rooms. One might call it a palace if it wasn't for the very down home feel of the place.

The house sits beside a lake, at least I think it's a lake as I can dimly perceive the other side. Whether that dimness is because of the mist or the size of this body of water, I don't know.

I'm wearing a light jacket, to ward off the morning's chill, and I'm enjoying a cup of coffee, gazing out at the lake, which is calm, nearly as still as a mill pond. I can hear the water lapping at the shoreline, but that is the only sound I hear.

Suddenly there is this fellow standing beside me, wearing running kit and from the look of him, just back from a brisk run, he's sweating and puffing slightly. Somehow I sense that I know this man, but I've never met him. With a grin and a nod, he's off again, jogging down the veranda then off into the mist.

I awaken with a palpable sense of loss. I've glimpsed something profound and I don't fully understand what it is I think I've experienced. I know it's a dream, yet, somehow not a dream. I knew that man though I'd never met him in real life. It was the sense of loss though that stayed with me the rest of the day.

It lingers still.

I know who it was I met on that veranda, some of you may know him as well, or someone like him. It's not the first time I've encountered this fellow in my dreams. He knows something that he's not telling.

It's something good, that much I know.

It troubles me that the dreams I used to have of this man have not returned.

Perhaps his message was delivered and there is no more to say. No more that can be said...

Each of us, whether we realize it or not, walk with the past. Beside us, and inside of us, it's there, always.

A dear friend of mine has lost his father recently, I know something of his pain, but for each of us, that pain is different. I can't say that I feel his pain, nor that I understand it fully, the relationships we share within our families vary. Some are close, some are not.

But the pain is there, and it will linger. Always.

The fond memories of that loved one lost will also linger. Cherish those memories.

Peace be with you my friends.





If you have a mind to, stop by here and offer your condolences, Shaun is a good man.