Thirty

Thirty      

By John W. Vander Velden 

As Alex lies in the predawn dimness he considers.  To others thirty years is a long time but as he watches the rhythmic rise and fall of the blankets beside him; it seems only a few blinks.  He listens to the symphony of quiet breaths and wonders how he reached this place.  The memories come -- memories of walks on quiet pathways -- memories of their first kiss -- memories of the time she revealed she loved him.  Alex draws a breath, closes his eyes and goes to those times, relives thousands of special moments.  He sees his beloved, dressed in white, coming -- coming to him.  He sees the trembling lip beneath the vail, and remembers that he was afraid as well.  That Saturday he doubted himself – knew he was unworthy – and yet…  The remainder of that day a blur, but it was the beginning – and yet not.

His mind filled with images of so many moments.  In the flood of the past Alex pushes aside the times of heartache.  He understands that everyone faces dark times and hurtful words.  They are but stepping stones to better places and need to be crossed but once.  In the grand scale, those insignificant, for the good outweigh them many times over. He swallows and wonders why.  Why would the woman bind herself to him?  What did she see that he could not? 

Watching as the morning light grows stronger he smiles.  With a gentle touch she would awaken, share this special time – another special instant.  But Alex does not wake his beloved, no, he knows himself fortunate.  For he shares his life with his bestest of bestest friends – his hero – his confidant – the one that saved him – the only one that could.  When the world’s craziness came and it had come often, her arms returned the stability to the chaos.  In her words hope could be found.  Together they faced storms.  Together they raised three enthusiastic boys.  Together they faced loss – together…

And today it would be thirty years – and it was only the beginning!

(343 Words)         1-11-2015

  

 

Where DO The Words Come From?

Where DO the Words Come From?           

By John W. Vander Velden

 

A few of us met last night for coffee at the end of our writer’s meeting. We do so most months. To the outside eye it might seem, we are just three people from different backgrounds, talking about movies, books and other stuff, but we understand the common thread. We are writers...

The fact that each of us has been published is not the basis for the definition...writer. In my view anyone that takes the time to stitch words together to create something out of language deserves the title of writer. Simply...we do and so we are.

The conversation rambled about as it always does, but a question arose...where DO the words come from?

Those that do not engage in the pursuit, might not see the value of the question. Surely the author brings his knowledge and selects his choice words in the way he pleases. But the question is deeper than word choice...it is about the form those words take and how they generate the image a reader builds in his or her mind.

I know I have had times, many times, when I complete a scene and looking back wonder where on earth that scene was born. Surely I am unable to create something of that magnitude, on my own. Where did the sentences, the paragraphs, or the chapter that now fills the page that lies before me come from. I tell myself I do not have that kind of talent.

I believe that the best that I have written...and likely the best I will ever write, comes from places of which I have no control. Period!

Deep inside me there is a seed planted before my birth. Whether you agree with me on this point of not is your choice, but does not change the truth I feel. For I believe...strongly...that GOD has carefully placed that tiny spark in my soul. That he expected me to cultivate that seed and help it grow. That time and time again I would tap into that seedling and find something unexpected...something with power...something I should share.

That seed remains there. Year after year, it continues to feed new growth. It continues to provide many things, and among them the words these clumsy fingers tap out onto the page. So on days like this one...days when I read a line I have written that takes me by total surprise...I know where the words come from.  They sprout out of...life, its joys and pains. They grow out of...self-examination, carefully looking at my achievements and failures. But most of all they come from a small seed planted deep within me by GOD.  That is where the words DO come from...

(459 Words) 2-8-2019

Pale Light

Pale Light

By John W. Vander Velden

                  

 

The cold night air stings nose and lungs as I walk over the rolling snow covered field.  Only the brightest stars, those that dare confront the brilliance of the full moon, dot the dark overhead.  The land lays painted beneath the pale light, the moon illuminating the snowy landscape, reflecting various shades of gray, in the pristine night.  The way I chose leads across the rolling land made more so by ocean like waves, drifts piled and driven firm by winds past, my steps at times labored.  Now air calm, my breath’s steam hanging before me, freezing ice drops in my moustache, carries no sound other than my own.  With eyes sweeping the frozen world, enjoying a different beauty of light and shadow of open spaces shared by none.  Here alone beneath the stars and moon…here alone as I trudge through knee deep drifts…here alone in a world illuminated by pale light…I find myself once more.  As I pause, as I study the night world lit by pale light, as I look in each compass point, seeing no other, a place most solitary I have found.  Yet even here, I know…I am not truly alone…not here in the mid of open land…not here, far from home and hearth, far from those wiser within warm walls.  No, the stars and moon remind me with their pale light…I am never alone!!!