For what it’s worth

For what it’s worth:

He grew up moving from place to place. Childhood filled with love, laughter and grace. He was always told to love first, because hate would come later. Whether it was true, indifferent or irrational, in the end it didn’t matter. What people said behind his back, was none of his business anyway, so carry on with a free spirit. Embrace what life had to offer!

Karma was taught at a young age, in the background it remained. Friend before foe. Those long lines, he’d later tow. What goes around comes around, as people say. But if the shoe was on the other foot, would you still go about your day?

And the story begins, a tale of a child becoming a man. Winters cold, but a summers skin, burned tan. A kid and his best friend jumped in the van. Off on a road trip, call it vacation. They were filled with elation. To trek into the world unknown. But where would these adventures have gone?

Starting by the sea, gaining elevation to some of the tallest mountain peaks. Action was their drug of choice. Be it a board, whether it had wheels, fins, or feet strapped in. These were things, where the first hits of adrenaline, began to kick in!

Some say blood is thicker than water, but what they had was thicker than blood. Many summers spent, a misspent youth, becoming a man. From singing songs, to strumming guitars on the beach. None of these things were ever far from reach. Lessons later learned, but never hard to teach.

Nieces and Nephews all grown up, but at a time, this man was not yet an Uncle. A cousin at best, treated his friends like family, and family like friends. It was death do us part, until the end. At what point had it all began?

As a kid, death was never far away. Atleast it seemed that way. Many days riding skateboards, learning how to surf. He called him a brother, who truly was his cousin. All things related, but deep down, they lived as if tomorrow was a lucid dream. Boats adrift, tow lines sprawled, surfing the waves of our lives. Somehow things aren’t always as they seem.

Now these vessels docked. He was cut from a different cloth. Taught to take the high road, he could never be mocked. The becoming of a man, bursting at the seam. Effortlessly yearning just to be free. Atleast that was the idealistic belief.

As the Autumn leaves began to fall, a man noticed changes of color, through the fog. From tall pine trees, to vines and weeds. He pondered as to what, possible things, that were yet to come.

Nostalgic he felt, of what he had become. Rather what had came and gone. The ebb and flow of life, hit him hard, never had he felt all alone. Those loved ones, friends he called family. Now, were just a fleeting memory.

How sad it was, to lose those once so close.. Many gone too soon, a generation had come to a close. The man, neither torn nor mad, but happy of memories he once had. As timeless as these things can be, those distance dreams, he could no longer see. The wisdom and lessons, he’d learned along the way. From those cherished spirits that still lived on, life was not the same.

He began to notice Mother Nature at her best.. how inevitable it was, the sun would set. On top of that mountain, where he sat. Gazing off, into the wild, there, an old red Barn, was on the horizon.

In that moment, everything came full circle. The moon, stars, and sky. Everything was now eternal. Wise he had become, like a Barn Owl, the end of an era. Years of yesterday, now gone. Their earlier action, had burned out. Memories, like shirts that say in memory. You don’t know how that feels, mentally. His best friend no longer here. Is this even real?

As heard tale before, “time heals all wounds.” And “ a burdens share is half the burden.” Where were these loved ones when he needed them the most. Like a high water mark, that would never again reach its peak. Oh how he missed, those times well spent. The phone calls, merely just to vent. No longer a thing to be. Just stuck with the wisdom, as it would be. Is it a burden or a curse?

One of the many species of flying birds, yet this was no ordinary bird. Not feral fowl, but a particular predatory, nocturnal Barn Owl. Colors barely seen, blended with those recently fallen leaves.

Having appreciation for all things earth. Spirits live on,

For what it’s worth.