John

This is a story of my brother, John.  He was a very complex figure in my life and for the rest of my family members, I suspect.  As the youngest I was shielded from the more intriguing family matters, so I can not be certain of how others felt about him.  Though the mixed emotions that I had for John would be clearly defined one day.

His fine intellect was not always apparent as he held people’s attention at the level  of his mysterious and sometimes frightening countenance.  I admired and respected him, though.  I could see beyond that to another part of him, I thought.  I was so pleased believing he was able to see that I could be trusted, and talk to me the way that I wanted, without looking down and making exceptions for the little sister.  He always had my respect and admiration.  And he would come to be my hero.

He saved my spirit and I loved him for the incredible bravery and generosity that he brought forth on my behalf.  He put himself in harms way for me in regard to a matter that we never shared with anyone.

That night, when I returned home,  John was there and quickly realized something had gone wrong in my life.  He demanded to know the trouble and when I told him about what transpired, his disposition immediately changed.  He took control of my fear with a response seeming to reveal at least a part of his mysterious nature.   He was completely prepared for the situation that I presented to him, so much so that I feared for his safety.  Thank heaven, my prayers were answered and no one was confronted that night, but not for lack of John bringing his considerable might to the situation.  He went looking for the person involved but could not find him.

John was consumed by the incident so I left him alone to settle down in the aftermath, so that we might, after a reasonable interval, enjoy something of our usual repartee on the ride home.  But we had a completely silent ride in our parent’s car, which as I recall, he had started without the benefit of a key.  He was so enraged, there was no asking permission which would not have been granted.

His bravery saved me from the depths.  Selflessly, he brought all that he had to my defense.  He healed me then and even now, I feel he shields me from the memory.  Unless I make the decision to recall that day, it is far away from my life.  And, when and I do, with each recollection, what I remember is more of John.  It is the amazing thing that I’ve noticed.  It is the love that remains…and grows!

I love you, John.  I thank you.  I miss you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Years had gone by without a thought of the summer at my grandparents farm in Virginia.  Then suddenly one day it was there, this forgotten experience, unprovoked and effortlessly revealing itself to me to become my little book of 50 pages.

This extraordinary childhood experience took place in 1957.  As I wrote, I felt the warmth and comfort of that time so long ago and so very dear to me now.   I was unaware of how much meaning it had brought to my life, this glimpse into their world.  It was written with love and a deep and ever-growing appreciation for my family.  It might well have been entitled , “The Gift”.

                                                                        Truth is Beauty is Love

Two Little Girls by Charon Diane

http://booklocker.com/books/4718.html

https://barnesandnoble.com/w/two-little-girls-charon-                                              diane/1022157163?ean=9781609101374

https://www.amazon.com/s?                                                                          k=two+little+girls+charon+diane&ref=nb_sb_noss_2

 

Advertisements

Angel on the Highway

The year was 1980.  I worked the third shift, three nights of the week at a computer firm while my husband was at home with our two children.

The car I was driving, our second, was a sturdy old Plymouth Valiant, model year 1964. It ran well and had been very reliable for trips to the creek with the children and the dog, or to town to visit a museum, for grocery shopping, and whatever else a mom and two little ones might be bound for in the course of a day.  We never had to worry about spills or mud on the seats so the children loved it.

One night on my way home from work, at approximately 1:30 am it started to rain. By the time I reached the highway it was torrential.  Suddenly my windshield wipers couldn’t keep up with the deluge and visibility was absolutely null.  I panicked because I remembered that the road was close to a ravine with only a very short rail along the side of it.   I steered the car toward the gravel strip beside the paved road and very slowly drove until I thought that all of the car’s wheels were off of the road and onto the strip. It was pitch black as I got out of my car to see if it was safely positioned.  A chill ran up my spine.  My car was just inches away from the rail.

I got back into the car and rolled down my window to try to flag someone but the traffic was moving so fast that I didn’t feel at all safe doing that so I rolled up the window.   The passenger in a large truck looked straight at me laughed devilishly as it sped by.  I remember feeling absolutely helpless and desperate.

Then I looked up into my rear-view mirror and instead of the terrible darkness I saw two yellow headlights approaching from behind.   I remember thinking that the lights seemed to have an uncharacteristically soft yellow glow.  I felt so relieved as a gentlemen, wearing a brown tweed overcoat and a hat was approaching my car. He tipped his hat as he asked, “Hello, Miss. May I help you with something?” His antiquated gesture and graceful manner were both startling and disarming. Men don’t tip or wear fedora hats these days.  His skin was flawlessly smooth and pale and his eyes were the color of blue crystal.  I was stunned.  I told him that my windshield wipers were not working and that I couldn’t see to drive.  He smiled and said, “I’ll see if I can be of assistance.”  He went straight to work removing the windshield wiper blades and switching them from one side of the window to the other, and turning them so that the worn ends were at the bottom of the windshield.  Then he told me to, “Try them now.”  They worked perfectly well to clear the rain from the windshield so that I had visibility once again.  I was astonished with simplicity of his solution to my problem.  The stranger said that he was glad that he could help me and that I should take good care going home in such weather.   He smiled again as he tipped his hat good-bye.  I thanked him profusely and watched him as he walked to his car, got in and drove away.  As his car disappeared into the darkness from which it came, I was thinking that the round and sturdy looking vehicle was a match with his manner and style of dress, as if from the era of 1950s.

Once my friend was out of sight, I became acutely aware of the intimidating highway traffic swishing by my car.  And I realized that while the kind stranger was with me, how it had seemed as if we were completely alone on the highway, and that for entire time I hadn’t seen nor had I heard any traffic passing at all.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

My book!

Two Little Girls by Charon Dianehttp://booklocker.com/books/4718.html

https://barnesandnoble.com/w/two-little-girls-charon-                                              diane/1022157163?ean=9781609101374

https://www.amazon.com/s?                                                                          k=two+little+girls+charon+diane&ref=nb_sb_noss_2

Our lives are a compilation of events that we dismiss, holding on only with what seems relevant for the moment.    I didn’t know that somewhere deep in my heart was a time that I spent with my grandparents.  One day it was there, this forgotten memory effortlessly revealing itself to me onto the pages of my little book of 50 pages.

This extraordinary experience of my childhood took place during the summer of 1957 in Virginia.  As I wrote I felt warm and comforting support for a time so dear to me.   Until the time of writing, I was unaware of how much meaning it had brought to my life.  It was written with love and a deep and ever-growing appreciation for my family.  It might well have been entitled , “The Gift”.

                                                                        Truth is beauty is Love

You are amazing.  Create something beautiful today!

 

Angel on the Highway

 

It was 1979 and I had a job at a computer firm processing payroll checks. My husband  was at home with our two children while I worked the third shift three nights of the week.

The car I was driving, our second, was a sturdy old Plymouth Valiant, model year 1964. It ran well and had been very reliable for trips to the creek with the kids and the dog, or to town to visit a museum, for grocery shopping, and whatever else a mom and two kids were bound for in the course of a day.  We never had to worry about spills or mud on the seats so the children loved it.

One night on my way home from work, at approximately 1:30 am it started to rain.  By the time I reached the highway it was pouring torrents.  Suddenly my windshield wipers couldn’t keep up with the deluge and visibility was absolutely null.  I panicked because I remembered that the road was close to a ravine with only a very short rail along the side of it.   I steered the car toward the gravel strip beside the paved road and very slowly drove until I thought that I had all of the car’s wheels off of the road and onto the strip. It was pitch black as I got out of my car to see if it was safely positioned.  A chill ran up my spine.  My car was just inches away from the rail.

I got back into the car and rolled down my window to try to flag someone but the traffic was moving so fast that I didn’t feel at all safe doing that so I rolled up the window.   The passenger in a large truck looked straight at me laughed devilishly as it sped by.  I remember feeling absolutely helpless and desperate.

Then I looked up into my rear-view mirror and instead of the terrible darkness I saw two yellow headlights approaching from behind.   I remember thinking that the lights seemed to have an uncharacteristically soft yellow glow.  I felt so relieved as a gentlemen, wearing a brown tweed overcoat and a hat was approaching my car.  He tipped his hat as he asked, “Hello miss can I help you with something?”  His antiquated gesture and graceful manner were both startling and disarming.  Men don’t tip or wear fedora hats these days.  His skin was flawlessly smooth and pale and his eyes were the color of blue crystal.  I was stunned.  I told him that my windshield wipers were not working and that I couldn’t see to drive.  He smiled and said, “I’ll see if I can be of assistance.”  He went straight to work removing the windshield wiper blades and switching them from one side of the window to the other, and turning them so that the worn ends were at the bottom of the windshield.   Then he told me to, “Try them now.”  They worked perfectly well to clear the rain from the windshield so that I had visibility once again.  I was astonished with simplicity of his solution to my problem.  The stranger said that he was glad that he could help me and that I should take good care going home in such weather.   He smiled again as he tipped his hat good-bye.  I thanked him profusely and watched him as he walked to his car, got in and drove away.  As his car disappeared into the darkness from which it came, I was thinking that the round and sturdy looking vehicle was a match with his manner and style of dress, as if from the era of 1950s.

Once my friend was out of sight, I became acutely aware of the intimidating highway traffic swishing by my car.  And I realized that while the kind stranger was with me, how it had seemed as if we were completely alone on the highway, and that for entire time I hadn’t seen nor had I heard any traffic passing at all.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

My book!

Two Little Girls by Charon Dianehttp://booklocker.com/books/4718.html

Our lives are a compilation of events that we dismiss for the most part.  I didn’t know that somewhere deep in my heart was this time that I spent with my grandparents.  One day it was there, this sterling moment in my life effortlessly revealing itself to me onto the pages of my little book of 50 pages.

This extraordinary experience of my childhood took place late 1950’s in Virginia.   As I wrote the words I felt warm and comforting support for a time so dear to me.   Until the time of writing, I was unaware of how much meaning it brought to my life.  It was written with love and a deep and ever-growing appreciation for my family.  It might well have been entitled , “The Gift”.

                                                                        Truth is beauty is Love
You are amazing.  Create something beautiful today!