THOUGHTS AND DREAMS

Since I’ve had a lot of heavy things on my mind, I thought I
would lighten things up a bit. I have often dreamed of writing
a best-selling novel. What follows is something I once
talked about with a friend of mine after her first romance novel was published. I told her … “One day I will be sitting on my veranda, with a view of the churning waters of the Gulf of Mexico filling my vision. I’ll be rocking in my rocking chair, along with my still surviving friends … We will be sipping our very southern lemoned and sugared iced tea, with the breeze whipping through our pink and blue hair, and I will say to my grandchildren that had gathered round asking for me to tell them a story about days gone by … ”Did you know that I actually knew this woman who once wrote a book about a handsome country singer and
a girl from this very Island?” And I will amaze and dazzle them, with snippets of our email conversations, and maybe even with a, “Yes, I remember the first time I met her in person … her eyes were as sparkling as a star in the midnight sky, and when she smiled at me, in that one moment, she lit up the entire room, brighter than the Texas sun reflecting off the water.  Her laughter tickled the ear, much like the sound of the Gulf winds blowing through my lyrical wind chimes … and when she took my hand and said “It’s very nice to meet you, too,” I knew
that I was holding the hand of one destined to be known around the world for her breathtaking fantasies, published for ladies like me, who on long, lazy days, would rest on our chaise lounges, getting lost in a whirlwind of love stories, that one could only dream about …” And the kids would sit and beg me to tell them more of my memories of days gone by and about my famous friend … which of course, due to my gift of gab and love of weaving tales, I would do, keeping them captured by my words, as we watched the sun setting, so majestic and ablaze with colors, that if we listened very carefully, we would hear the sizzle of Texas day
coming to a close, as that radiant ball of fire, surrounded by a palette of purples, pinks and oranges, slowly disappeared into the depths of the Western Gulf of Mexico … a glorious ending to a typical Texas summer day.  I told my friend, “Now that you are a famous writer, maybe when you pass away at the ripe
old age of 100 plus, someone can read the above at your news-covered funeral, as an “Ode To You”, and the world will smile just a bit too, and all of us will know our boring, domestic lives were made so much bolder, brighter, and better, because of you!” For the record, I am still dreaming of writing that best selling novel. But for now I’m satisfied to write a column that I hope you enjoy!