Overreach

Photo prompt © Roger Bultot

 

“I never meant to hurt you.”

Samuel’s words were sincere and still she found herself looking away as to not see his eyes, where a lie was sure to peek.

“The gardener should’ve never let this grow so,” she responded.

Samuel stilled, confused.

She did not explain, for perhaps it was not only the leafy fingers arching over the path and latching onto her living quarters that had been given leave to cross beyond what was sensible.

“Some bridges need be cut,” she added cryptically. “Good-bye, Samuel. Will you send the gardener to my drawing room on your way out?”

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

 

 

Home View

Bamboi

 

He huddled at the cupola and waited.

Sirens blared and klaxon warnings bleated in time with the flash of red strobe lights and a monotone woman’s voice repeating: “Evacuate! Evacuate!”

He shook his head at the cluelessness of programmers. Who chose this particular word for the code-red recordings?

Evacuate to where?

The wall behind him warped and heaved, and it was as if the very apparatus was gasping for air. He slowed his own breath and tuned out the scream of bending metal and the meaning of the accelerated frequency of the voice commands.

He glued his eyes to the view. Finally.

His finger traced the line of green against blue and traveled inland to the approximate spec that was Bamboi.

Was anyone home looking up? They’d been so proud. The first of their own at the space-station, and … for at least another moment, the last astronaut alive.

 

For the What Pegman Saw Challenge: Bamboi, Ghana

 

Rest in Peace, Dear Carol

Carol H.

Carol H.

ברוך דיין אמת
May you rest in peace now, Carol, having completed your work on this earth, in this body; and having done so utterly spectacularly, as evidenced by the many people who love you so dearly, the lives you changed and enriched, the truth you spoke, the healing you provided, the open-mind and open-heart you lived by.
I miss you already.
I also know you’re going to be with us, always; if in a different way. But no less loving.

Am not worried for you being lonely over there, in Soul Heaven. Oh, not at all, for you have a welcoming committee with you! I can feel it. Kathryn, surely. She’s been moving front and center in the last month, preparing to receive you and ready for reconnecting. I can almost see your hand in hers as she shows you the path to new tomorrows. Others are there to welcome you, too … from recently departing friends to longer lost kin of heart and family. A multitude. A community of souls. A tribe. All holding you in love and light.

Am relieved that you are no longer suffering and that your body no longer limits your soul from soaring. You have blessed us all.

And you are a Blessed One.

I will be taking time off in your honor, to sit in prayer and meditation, to hold you in my heart fully, to be with you during this process of you moving on to a different path of being, to support your family.

There’s a candle lit for you here, as is the tradition in my family and upbringing, to ‘hold’ and ‘light the way’ and keep in thoughts and blessing a dear one who is walking a new path. Though knowing you, Carol, you are probably flying. Walking’s too slow. And you sure had enough of ‘slow’ for a while now…

I said goodbye to you when I went to sleep last night, having felt you getting close to passing since Friday and even more so all day yesterday, and I knew that something shifted in the early morning: a release, a relief, a letting go. You had let me know.

The deep love of those close to you–your dear husband, children, siblings, friends–I know it helped you through this most difficult last year, and helped you know it was okay to finally let go. Love held you. May it hold you still and hold us all now as sorrow flows and gratitude fills memories with the honor of knowing you and loving you. I love you so!

It has been an honor for me. Still is. Will remain so and only grow.

You have enriched my life, nourished me indelibly on levels that are hard to put in words, changed who I had the possibility to become. I cannot imagine my life without you. A gift. A blessing.
Carol, you are a part of my heart and always will be so.
You are family to me.
My love always — Na’ama