Esoteric Bowl

Thursday was hot. Real hot. Granted, it wasn’t Africa hot or Las Vegas hot, but it was Hawai’i hot. Still, it was hot. The cool breezes that we were experiencing earlier in the week had calmed, and the sun blazed to the mid to low eighties.

My stomach convinced my throat of how wonderful something cool and refreshing would be, and I soon found myself walking in the afternoon Sun towards the neighborhood TCBY. It was hot, but I continued walking. As I walked, I didn’t know what I was looking forward to more, the frozen strawberry yogurt or the cool air-conditioning that awaited me at TCBY. Ahhhhh…one was just as good as the other.

On the walk back, I noticed a lot of women wearing shirts that exposed their middrift. It’s not the first time that I have noticed this trend, but on these hot days it seems like tummies are exposed everywhere. Flat tummies, muscle tummies, soft tummies, round tummies, bulging tummies. There is something quite sexy about a woman exposing just a few inches of her middrift. Thursday was hot.

With the subject of posting comments still floating in my mind, I visited the YACCS site and began reading all the comments that have been shared here throughout my writing of this journal. The comments left behind by the many readers brought about a wonderful mix of different thoughts and memories. Some of the comments caused me to think about specific topics once again, while others have reminded me how friendships have grown and of those that have faded. Some comments still bring a smile to my face and some continue to make me laugh.

Most of the comments shared on this site have been tremendously supportive and thoughtful. I am grateful to all that have taken the time to post comments here. Not only have your thoughts been a joy to read, but you have brought your own unique light to this site while providing a perspective that I and others may not have considered.

Here is a random sample of who said what and when:

You think too much, personally I stick to worrying about the real peoples feelings in my life.
Chris

What an incredible entry. Thank you.
Maggie

Especially beautiful on a day without jellyfish!
Ali

I might be in the minority here, but I honestly do not like using vibrators. When I close my eyes and fantasize, my fingers provide the most pleasure. Ohhhh, yes they do…
Jasmin

I believe that an internal revolution is coming.
Sarah

I got mine, did you get yours?
Tyd

Like I’ve said before, you have all these females tugging at your panties and no time for a real friend.
Chris

I have no interest in Kane’s panties…
Ryan

That is soooo bad!!!! I think you need to go out for some fresh air to clear your head.
Mom

but i’m a good girl! i am! i am!
Wendi

good stuff !! what can I say ?
Simon

I knew you were going to say that…
Christy

I loooove toasted Peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwiches!!! On a toasted egg bagle even better!! My grandfather used to make them for me.
Sarah

thats a very haunting image…
Wendi

Toasted whole wheat bagels with strawberry preserves are to die for. : )
Sheila

Magic is all around us!
Cassanndra

Absolutely astonishing, terrifying, thrilling, riveting and sweet. I probably would have walked on by…
Joe

I was disruptive. During nap. During class. I talked too much and got distracted easily. These are comments they give to the highly creative who refuse to conform.
Olga

It’s the aliens I tell you
Tyd

-smile-
that’s all I needed to express.
T

There is always a sadness in knowing that even the most golden moments cannot ever be owned. Perhaps that knowledge, more than anything, makes such moments breathtaking.
Ruth

:O (my goodness!)
Kate

Now I’m craving popcorn after reading this post…
*goes to make some* =)
Libby

Thanks again everyone for all your comments!

Perhaps the greatest delusion of
blogging
is to assume that while I am here
writing
there are many out there
reading.

With the clear skies and brisk winds that we have been having the past few days, I was inspired to buy a kite. I didn’t buy one of those elaborate or fancy kites that cost an arm and a leg, but rather just a plain old-fashioned kite. I brought it home and put it together, then went outdoors to prepare for lift-off.

The street was deserted when the kite first went into the air, but soon there were several neighborhood children standing around. While most of the kids kept their eyes on the kite as it soared further into the sky, a couple of them questioned why I was flying a kite in the first place. When I explained to them that I was doing it for fun, it seemed to confuse them even more.

I had a brief thought of cutting the string and letting the kite fly free in a symbolic gesture of Millie passing. But with all the children around watching, I didn’t have the heart to do it. Instead, I gave the spool of string to one of the younger kids. She held on with both hands and smiled from ear to ear as her big brown eyes never left the kite.

Back in February of this year, I had a visit to this site from my Aunt Millie. It was a great surprise to discover that she had left a comment on the site and to hear from her after all these years. The last time I had seen her was when she allowed me to stay at her home in Washington for a few days during my travels in the 1980’s.

We had so much to catch-up on, and I was glad that she was interested in corresponding with me via email. Though only fifty-five years old, she was a grandmother now, and the three boys she had raised on her own were now men. She told me that she visited my site every few days, and she was tremendously kind in support of my writing.

I enjoyed the emails we shared. Our correspondance always had a blend of nostalgia along with thoughts on the present and future. The impressions that I always had of her were those of someone upbeat and happy, so I couldn’t help to notice that in many of her emails there was a certain sadness present. She would often apologize for being a “drag” in her emails, attempting to assure me that she was happy, only to share her sadness in later lines. I did my best to understand, and tried to express a positive note whenever the opportunity presented itself. In all her emails she invited me to come visit or to stay with her. I always declined, explaining that I didn’t travel much anymore. After several months of correspondance, the emails from her stopped. I continued to write to her for a while, but eventually I too stopped writing.

Millie was always a little on the heavy-side. Not obese, just some extra pounds that diet and exercise couldn’t shake. A number of years ago, Millie had her stomach stapled. It was a procedure that would finally relieve her from those extra pounds that she had always carried with her. Recently, she was having some problems with the staples, so she went to the hospital to have the problem taken care of. During the procedure she experienced cardiac arrest and died friday morning.
She will be missed.

Paco walked outside his home as he had done on any other day. A strong wind was present and blew in his face, slowing his movement and his pace. With each attempted step his body bent, and his anger for the wind grew stronger. He wondered why the wind must always thrust itself on him. Had he not been a good person? Then why, why, why must this wind always throw itself at him?

Paco’s anger soon turned to sadness. He felt he could no longer take these personal attacks from the wind. He concluded that it was all too much to bear, and a desperate thought filled his mind. Trudging slowly against the wind, Paco made his way to a mountain top. Here is where he would end it all, and afterwards the wind would no longer be a bother.

Filled with anguish, Paco looked upon the valley that had always been his home. In the distance, he could see the trees softly sway, the same trees he had often climbed as a child. He saw his friends working in the field, their heads and arms moving in unison like the stalks of cane they cut. He could see the hillside meadow, where children laughed and played to the melody of the wind. With each new gust that blew, Paco heard the echoed voices of women sing as they washed clothes at the nearby stream. He watched in awe as the hanging laundry moved to their song in a gentle rhythmic fashion.

As Paco absorbed all that was taking place in the valley, he felt a comfort and joy that he had not known. He no longer felt as if the wind had singled him out, but rather it had included him within the dance. As he climbed down the mountain and made his way towards the village, a gust of wind blew at Paco’s back and he could feel its beauty.

Kona winds blow clouds of gray to the vale,
Where veins of a mountain cascade;
Alongside Kings and Queens were laid,
In the distance of a sacred trail;
Faint tune from a nightingale,
Only echoes of a serenade;
Songs of the valley fade,
As the clouds of gray prevail.