MOODS OVER A SEPTEMBER MOON - A MEMOIR
This morning, unlike most mornings, I’m at a loss for words. I’m staring at the blank screen, hypnotized by the blinking cursor. It is wearying heavy upon my eyelids. I’m falling . . . falling . . . falling. Now, I’m asleep.
Ah, a dream! Thank you, my dear God for such a vivid dream. And, the actors you had chosen to star in this dream — perfect. Simply, perfect!
Mother, dressed in white. Beautiful is she, her hair curling down the sides of her sculptured face. Father, with his Herculean physique, standing tall atop the pedestal. Marbled and chiseled, he plays the pivotal role.
Brother, my dear brother, giggling under the apple tree. He is tempted but he resists. I am grateful. I must watch him with a careful eye. Brother has a bigger appetite than most.
My older sister, the nursemaid to the world, wrapped in fine linen, cradling the infant, rocking the elderly. Smiling is she, I’m so proud.
My younger sister, drifting across the river, upon the raft of ancient log. A freer spirit is she, but knows not the current. At any moment it could shift. I am concerned. Big brothers must always be concerned about their little sisters.
Suddenly, I’m thrown backwards and there’s nothing I can do. I’m caught in the eye of the hurricane. I’m taken back to a different time, a different place.