For Him

For Him


Every haunted autumn, Grace recalled a particularly beautiful moment in time. Stepping from the car to behold the glorious splendor of the colorful landscape that surrounded her, she paused to survey the unfolding scene. The sun cast a low light; the shadows ominous, darker, stretched longer, slightly sinister across the manicured lawn. Grace glanced up; a canopy of leaves, resplendent in dresses of crimson, orange, and green covered over the sky, a shelter. Golden beams sparkled and peeked through the limbs of the tree, far-reaching. She recalled it was autumn when he finally left them behind. All is not as it appears.


The light exposed a tiny bushy-tailed squirrel. Nimble, fleet feet scurried up, scaled the Maple’s trunk, the scritch scratch barely audible in ascent. Grace willed herself strength; just enough to enter the brick building that loomed ahead. She imagined herself confident, sure- footed, as she navigated through the raw emotions and truths that swirled around inside a frantic mind. For it was true, she loved him and it was truth; he broke a heart. Why didn’t they see each other’s pain? All is not as it appears.


Leaves crunched; tiny sticks snapped under slow footsteps. It was the scattered acorns that caught her focus. Their auburn perfection, swollen to a taper, some adorned with matte caps still attached. Grace paused, clutched a handful from the earthen ground and tucked them into her sweater’s woolen pocket. The seeds with their tops in place, she gently wrapped within a soft tissue, and tucked them safely into her purse pocket. Autumn gifts a magical performance; she possessed a talisman of sorts, an agent to ward off the inevitable glances, the forthcoming storm of vicious words; for now she clutched a shield of beauty to front her heart. The door of the institution automatically opened. She stepped inside.


He is gone now. Those same acorns remain today, nestled together within a crystal bowl, placed center upon an oak sideboard. They remind her of him, his impossible quest for perfection, his strength mixed up in a fragile, tumbled mind, his broken heart and the shadowed path he chose to walk along.


Every autumn Grace recalled that moment in time; memory held the beauty that unfolded into a perfect autumn scene. Now, she imagines him standing beside her. She places the acorns into the palm of his outstretched hand and whispers, “I love you. Always.” A tear brims and slowly rolls down to rest upon his cheek. “Always,” he replies.


Autumn’s looming shadow shivers; questions remain unanswered; a heart broken. Still, every season nature repeats the glorious show, adorned in resplendent, golden beauty. Grace smiles. She has come to accept, all is not as it appears.



Did You Hear?



Alice phoned Molly. Molly picked up the receiver on the third ding a ling.

“ Molly’s residence.”

“Did you hear? Mr. Leslie Wyatt, the butcher doesn’t eat meat!”

“Who knew? And he sells the finest home-fed beef.”

“But he never eats any himself!” Alice murmured.

The ladies heard that Mr. Leslie Wyatt has lived on honey, fish, brown bread, and lemon juice, washed down with a cup of coffee for the past thirty years.

“Breakfast is one teaspoon of honey with the juice of a lemon in hot water. Later on, he nibbles on a bran scone or has a piece of brown bread and a cup of coffee. The coffee must be proper, percolated. For tea the gentleman has steamed or grilled fish, coffee and brown bread. Before bed he sips honey, lemon and hot water.”

Alice continued,

“Being a butcher he attends the occasional business meeting. On these occasions he’ll take a little vegetable soup and a piece of chicken!”

The ladies tittered.

Why did Mr. Leslie Wyatt go on his honey and lemon diet? It all began when he met a Russian in a hotel in Newcastle over thirty years ago. They met in the bar and the Russian remarked he’d lost his sea legs. Mr. Wyatt invited him to join his table, to have a drink for luck. The Russian accepted with a “thanks,” and ordered a lemon drink. Mr. Wyatt ordered a whiskey for himself. At that time he was a little puffy. The Russian told Mr. Wyatt he was far too large. He told Mr. Wyatt about the honey, lemon, and fish diet and suggested he try it. The honey was to strengthen the heart and the lemon calmed the tummy and the blood. Mr. Wyatt intrigued, decided to give it a go. He went over to the honey and lemon diet. The puffiness disappeared! He felt great.

~ a true story, dears