It was one of those awful nightmares. People running scared everywhere. I was desperately trying to get them into a place of safety, only to have them run out into harm's way again, and again. Some out of disbelief, certain that it couldn't be THAT bad. Some out of panic. And all the while, the danger was getting nearer and nearer. I could see it coming, menacing, and ready to destroy. It was so obvious, so terrifyingly close. And yet no matter how I tried, those I wanted so badly to protect, would not listen, could not see.
Then I woke up, heart pounding, in a tangle of bed covers, wondering what the President dreamed.
Now the birds are singing up the day, a strange juxtaposition to the dark dream echoes still sounding through my mind. There are gardens badly in need of tending. They've been neglected the last few days, due to the heat, and my own horrified watching of our people being taken hostage.
I'm going to have another cup of tea, and then go out into the gardens. I need to nurture what I can. Then later today, we're going to celebrate and honor the life of a dear friend who passed away earlier this year. He was, and is, the SO's brother in arms and brother of the heart.
They're both Viet Vets, and both were wounded in another so-called fight for "democracy." The Rock Man was literally blown up and put back together. But somethings can never really be healed. It was a long, slow, fading away.
We're going to honor his humor and caring, his constant fight for the underdog, the vulnerable, and especially the lost children. We're going to laugh, cry, and eat good food together. Just as he would have wanted. Today, after all, is his birthday.
I'm not going to think about how I woke from a nightmare, into a nightmare none of us can escape. There are gardens to tend. Later, there will be blue and green balloons to get for the Rock Man's grand children to play with. They will run on the green grass on the blue lake shore, trailing balloons in their grandfather's favorite colors. It seems so important right now to do the small things that create memories of meaning. Especially for them. So that's what we're going to do today, tend to things. Nurture and comfort what we can.
I just wish I could forget the look on the SO's face as he watched the news story about our sons and daughters serving in Afghanistan. Our young soldiers didn't want to know when they were coming home. They just wanted to know if they'd get paid. They just wanted to know if they would be able to feed their families, and pay the rent. And the man in charge had no answers. I wish I could forget the hurt in the SO's eyes, in all their eyes. All because of an unnecessary debt crises created by know nothing extremists and hostage takers.
I just wish I could stop thinking that this waking nightmare is NOT what my grandfather, father, the SO or the Rock Man fought and suffered for.
It seems this fight for democracy is being lost, and we're all ending up wounded.
And yet, there are flowers blooming, children who will be running and laughing with their grandfather's green and blue balloons.
There will always be precious things in this world to cherish and protect. Wounded or not, we will persevere.
Love and peace to you all.