Tag: past

Second Thoughts # 7 – Fishy Past

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Ah…the old bent fishing rod. I was out for a walk a few evenings ago and midway into my stroll, I was passed by a couple of kids on their pedal bikes. I gave way to the little band of brothers and noticed something reminiscent as they zoomed on by. There were four of them. Like a moving screen grab of modern-day Stand by Me, Goonies, or IT. Or, for the younger crowd reading this post, Stranger Things. I kind of wanted to salute them in passing as they gave me a nod and went on their way. They looked like a good group of friends for sure. What struck me the most was how they had their fishing poles secured to their bikes. The fishing rods they were carrying were pointed straight up toward the sky like you would assume. Only, their rods had a massive bend at the top of them because when you pulled the line tight to fix the hook in one of the line holes, it created a slight curve. Smart move as they would have run the risk of hooking into someone or something while flying by on their journey home after a long day of adventures. Anyway, the moment those kids rode by me happened in an instant, but the flashes of memories that they had created for me lasted the rest of the night and into the process of writing this entry. I allowed that slideshow to play itself out, over and over. Like a short trailer of young episodes of my youth.

Continue reading “Second Thoughts # 7 – Fishy Past” →

Second Thoughts # 6 – I Remember Swimmingly

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A white towel around my neck, my curling hair is all wet, and I’m riding my mountain bike down a quiet highway in a standing position. Ah …the way back after a summer’s day swim.

It’s well past seven, almost eight and the sun, like us, is on the way home. I’m chilly now as the sun sets. I have goosebumps and my skin is drying out from living in pond water for the last four hours. My pedal strides are lazy as I slowly catch up to join a zigzag bicycle pattern my friends have already graciously started. We laugh right away bringing up our whole day and explaining to each other like it happened years ago. Drawing out every last second of detail and sodering it unconsciously to our souls. Every one of those day-at-the-pond moments we smiled at again and again. Over and over.

The adrenaline produced from a day like that would fuel the whole trip home for us. No matter how tired we were our along-the-way stunt dares and ten-second races kept us gaining ground without even noticing how close we were getting to home. Then, most times in the middle of a good joke or a story, one by one, each of my buddies would have to start branching off. Going their “rest of the way” alone. Breaking away from the pack usually with a middle-finger gesture, a newly learned curse word, or a bodily function. Sometimes all three. Soon, I too would cross that imaginary line that separated my neighbourhood from the rest of the world. The world of a twelve-year-old Ash. I remember that day swimmingly.

This second thought was brought to you by a walk earlier today on a path less taken. There was something about the atmosphere in the moment I was in and it overwhelmed me and I was there for it. I kicked up a little dirt and it transported me. Summer is indeed in the air and given the last few weeks, I needed this memory. Thanks, universe.

Until…

Second Thoughts # 5 – Clean Getaways

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It’s 8:15 P.M. on a Monday evening nineteen ninety-something, and my last load of laundry is two-quarters away from being done. I dig through a pile of old magazines and find one with a half-finished crossword. The hum of the dryer is soothing… hypnotic to a focused folder. Pearl Jam plays on a scratchy radio above the pop machine that never works. As a spring night hue casts in against a long wooden table of folded clothes and empty baskets reaching where I sat, a bell jingles. I’m the last one there. The sometimes friendly middle-aged attendant who’s been watching the one-channel TV eyeballs my sightline up the far wall across from me. Toward an overly huge numbered clock fixed on it. Below reads the hours of business. He silently without words offers me a delicate cycle amount of time by tapping his watch before my clean getaway ends its cycle. I nod in appreciation for the fifteen minutes and go back to my crossword tapping a half-chewed pen…

Let’s see… 6 Down, a bottle with a narrow neck…?

Second Thoughts # 4 – Reely Missed

Relying solely on a section of the newspaper for a movie choice. The excitement of going down through the listings and reading the few lines of script that best described the movie with so few words. You’d spend extra time on the showings with an accompanying photo being most likely the blockbusters. Debate with your fellow movie-goer until the show times force you to pick. Shit, it’s twenty-to. We have to leave if we want to make the 6:00.

I’m telling you. It was a vibe, a feel, an event. I miss it on second thought and wish sometimes we didn’t have to go so fast. – Ash 

Second Thoughts # 1 – Curbed Enthusiasm

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Those days of sitting on the curb with your childhood friends at the beginning of the warmest rain. – Ash

Earth to Ash Podcast Episode # 10 – Posts of Christmas Past!

Welcome back, join me and my continuing conversation about my thoughts, feelings, and emotions to the world around me.

In this episode, I talk about how thinking about the great Christmases of the past can make you excited for the Christmases of the future. Join me for a few memories with some of the backstories. Oh, and as always, I throw in a poem, no wait, a Christmas poem for good measure. 

Happy Holidays!!

Blueberry Hill

when the blueberries come back…so do you 
we’re together again
scraping and scrounging along the hillside 
every three paces we fill our cups 
 
the colour blue today is for happiness 
its sweet taste…a reminder of your touch 
as I hold a few on the day they first appear 

the air is the same chill
trees with the same tinge of change
cloud shadows still pass over me like they did
I see them at my feet

I am seven again
catching up with your pace
as my bucket spills over
on blueberry hill









A Walk to Bartender

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6:05 kicking rocks
every stride a pebble or two
summer hugging me the whole way
the sun was slowly packing up for the day 
and the moon would be here in a few hours 
Saturday so lazy dogs paid no mind to pesky flies 
or to an orange cat nibble-ling a rickety fence 
right there, in front me as my freedom faded away

6:06 I placed my gaze everywhere 
taking in as much still time as I could 
before drunkards beckon me 
fill me full of lies, blow smoke in my face
tell me I’m cute when no one’s watching
and shout more regretful things 
make promises…break promises 
dance 
sing
love 
hate
take swings
jest 
do it all past the pale of moonlight
or until clocks shoo them away

to the place they all knew my name
the walk to a bartender
was a rehearsal
for a keeper of tabs
a keeper of secrets
a keeper of ale
it’s 6:07
what can I get ya… 
 
 
 

By the Trestle Bridge

Actual Trestle Bridge from Google – no copyright infringement intended

no idea where I was going
where my footsteps were taking me
not long off the bus and my bags still hanging off the borrowed bed
I’m running toward something
my faith in a girl next door relationship
built on the stock of only a few summers
we were school break friends and I just had to see this
according to everyone
and everyone was going to be there
that was the promise and with a pinky swear
I was a nervous boy in a foreign land
on loan from thirteen-year-old best buds
speaking only the language of the shy and quiet ones
making what would become a beautiful memory
under the bright big moon
along the sparkle-kissed river
surrounded by the sounds of the teenage
on a warm night in August
by the trestle bridge

Dark Puzzles, Black Pieces

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Lying awake in the dares of the night 
between the seconds of darkness that it created 
anxious, with a pulsing heart 
a sweaty grip 
gripping tightly so wishing for light 
I watch the shadows and silhouettes patrol 
alone by vicinity 
crowded by bonded blood 
the air steals my voice 
blankets smother my breath 
sounds muffle the familiar 
it’s only me now 
in a world of living nightmares 
it was always only me 
this life is a puzzle 
with many different pieces 
let me throw away the black ones
so something beautiful can be complete