A tale of ceaseless twists.
A time without meaning; A time without hope; A sliver of darkness moves into a thought — tangles the scope.
Enter a dream and leave in a fury; Erase all joy; Enjoy all falling into fear — twisting the meaning.
A laugh empty of emotion; A calmness eerie and quiet; A grin of wicked smudging the soul — mangles the mind.
My children are drawing with colored chalk on the sidewalk in front of our house. The neighborhood is quiet.
I’m lifting weights in the garage. Being 50 years old and training for a powerlifting competition is challenging. Keeping watch of an 8-year-old and 5-year-old at the same time is a new level of focus and demand.
It is important to let the girls have space and do their own thing. But, between every set of lifting, I keep my eyes on my kids.
Watching them draw a little city with the concentration of the most intense kind, I wish I could find myself enjoying a project at work with such abandon.
The sky is blue and it’s hot, but the large oak tree in our front lawn is providing plenty of shade from the blazing sun. My girls are unfazed by the heat and drawing with their chalk like seasoned architects.
Florida weather is great except when it’s not.
Storms here can appear like magic with huge black clouds suddenly blowing in due to ocean currents and high wind gusts whipping around the peninsula.
There’s nothing close to us today, only wispy, white, thin clouds decorating our Palm Coast beaches. But, off in the distance, North of us I see ominous darkness shading the sky.
That thick darkness isn’t moving toward our house, so the threat isn’t a concern to my girls and me.
Checking the far-off storm from our driveway only takes a few seconds then I turn around to see the pictures my little artists are chalking up the sidewalk and now our front walk with.