Behind the Obvious

There are many things to be thankful for on this day... for the things we are blessed to have… the things in some instances, we may not notice from day to day. I am thankful for the country that chose me. I am thankful for the family that chose me… and for the personality that chose me. I am thankful for my friends that choose to allow me into their lives.

But there are things I took notice of this week while I looked at my life…

I am thankful for the family dog that sits at my feet…

I am thankful for the family cat that lets me know when it’s OK to pet her…

I am thankful for the oil stain in my driveway…

I am thankful for the ignition switch that needs no key…

I am thankful for black lights…

I am thankful for boxer underwear…

I am thankful for WD40 and twine…

I am thankful for people who carry an extra pen…

I am thankful for mini heath bars…

I am thankful for garlic and onion salt…

I am thankful for the third pull on my old lawnmower…

I am thankful for fingernail clippers and tweezers…

I am thankful for the fifth gear in my Jeep…

I am thankful for dime store eye glasses…

I am thankful for Zippo lighter fluid and flints…

I am thankful for blue packets of sweetener…

I am thankful for my father-in-law's giant stainless steel mixing bowl...

I am thankful for the small town farmer who sells his crops on the roadside…

I am thankful for one more year to seek out my thoughts…

I will always be thankful for the smiles from my children… the hand shakes from people I meet… the laughter in a family home. I will always be thankful for the waves of hello from my neighbors… the voices of my loved ones and the feelings of love and appreciation.

                                               

                                                          Shannon R Killman

It will Stay

My friend watched through the window as a large white van backed into his driveway. He knew today was coming… but it was such a beautiful Fall day today. The cool in the air pierced the windows and the sun fell crisp and focused upon the floors.

A very polite and green uniformed man came to the front door and knocked quietly as not to disturb… my friend looked at me and smiled. There were papers to sign and yellow and green copies that were gently laid on the coffee table… they sat like anchors as the polite man quietly made his way to the van and opened the double doors.

He had been trying to sleep in his favorite recliner… the move back and forth from the back room had become taxing… and exhausting. He knew it was time…

The polite man came into the front room with a small tool bag… it looked worn and well used. The vinyl zipper moved with ease and made a familiar sound. It was quiet except for the clink of the small wrenches as they moved upon each other. He was gone and back again… with a shiny bed frame. The side rails were next… and the wheels. And new cardboard box of electronics.

He assembled the bed without making eye contact… he was quiet and efficient. Next came the mattress… he refused any assistance as he made his way up the front steps. Perspiration pierced the pores of his freshly shaven face.

My friend told the polite man to set the bed up in the front room… opposite the television and too near the recliner. There was a calm in the air as the polite man gave a quick explanation on the workings of the hospital bed… the movement of the side rails and the operation of the incline. He asked where he could move the recliner… shall it be moved into the other room… would the bedroom be better?

My friend struggled with the thought… he looked to his chair. He knew this time would come, but he wasn't ready. He looked to me in the silence and I knew there was no hurry… the sun still fell on the floors and the air still felt cool and crisp… the sounds of the outside drifted in through the open front door…

He looked upon his chair and the words fell softly from his lips… there is no hurry… it will stay. The polite man was gone as quietly as he came. And time fell upon the silence…

                                                                   Shannon R Killman