When you exploit all the good things life gives you, it doesn’t leave mushroom for the bad things. – Ash
Second Thoughts # 8 – If I Moss Say
Tag: youth
Second Thoughts # 7 – Fishy Past
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
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…
Deadman’s Cove
there was a day when the grass was the perfect green
the ocean glistened in morse code
each sparkle a story of its own
as I step lightly from rock to stone
saltwater breaths dry my lips
I wet them for a taste
we all know that birds sing
listen when they do
let them play out the tides
like that day that was just for me
on that beach of memories
with a shore full of driftwood and kelp
props in a backdrop of a day in my life
when I hear a crashing wave
when a warm breeze teases my step
and when mother nature holds out her hand
I grab on and go back again
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
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!!
Under This One Light
under this one light
in the amber hue, I have my portal to then
an eve painted in summer
teenage banter filled the air as crushes bloomed
and comradery flourished
cool breezes were another layer of skin
traffic and the passerbys provided background noise
like an orchestra playing a scene of those wonder years
time dared not show its face where we ran, we played
all of us together having no clue one day we would grow apart
as age banished our internal youth
but for that very moment, a looping memory was being created
for everyone, I’m sure, for me… for sure
against the fade of those nights that will stand the test of tomorrows to come
I remember because each second I stand here in the illuminated golden of right now
my heart minted in aurulent
keeping this memory where I leave it
under this one light
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
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
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
