Ghosts of gatherings past

I was having some thoughts about how sometimes previous gatherings affects current gatherings. For instance, some people manipulate situations to try recreate a previous gathering. In a way, it's like ghosts floating around that only a few people are aware of. These sensitive mystics react to things that aren't there or perhaps can prevent bad outcomes.

This is my proposal for the next challenge: something related to Ghosts of gatherings past. Take it where you want to go.

The portrait

Her hands gently caressed the head and arms of the plush toy laid out at the end of the bed. She paused, for a moment, as if to lift the lifeless being placed in her care. Her eyes, glazed over, instead looked up to see that I had entered the room.

"Hello," I muttered. "How are you feeling today?" I questioned. There was no reply. There had not been a reply for years though it did not matter. I felt the body language was enough to communicate some sort of feeling.

I walked past the antique armoir and stopped at the pictures lined up on the top shelf of the in-laid desk. There were so many; remarkably many people who had come and gone in her life. One picture in particular always caught my eye everytime I paid a visit. A young man, dressed in a World War II uniform, with silent eyes and inauspicious smile. I knew this picture had been taken during the war due to the signature and date written across the bottom left hand corner.

Today the picture left a sense of foreboding. She had often talked about the man in a favourable light. The correspondence during these years was always intriguing to me. Even enlightening. Now, the silent eyes looked back at her in the dim light as her hands reached out in what felt to be the barenness of this seclusion.

I decided at that moment to place the portrait at the back of the shelf. I then walked over to the bed and in customary habit, kissed her ashen, delicate cheek.

Retirement

I knew the day was coming.  It was inevitable.   All that time... round round it went.  It felt like I was going to be breaking up the team.  Then again, it should probably should have happened a long time ago.

It is funny how at the beginning you never really think the end is around the corner. You're too caught up in the moment.  Sure everyone knows that nothing last forever.  It's a process of slow erosion.  Then you start to notice things start to slip. The first few times you can explain it away.  But after a while it becomes all too clear. People help you dance around the truth.  They'll say things like you got a few good miles left. But there is something no one can dance around.  One word that is unavoidable: balding.  A sign of wear and tear, or simply age.

It didn't have to be emotional.  Sure, the first thing on everyone's mind is money.  But I had planned ahead.  By putting a little away each month, I was ready.  It's amazing how quickly it adds up.  There was a bit of knot in my throat when I thought of the money.  Everyone always says you can live with less money.  Maybe it wasn't the money.  Maybe it was more the feeling of loss.

Retirement.  After all those years, I was finally retiring my car.  Too many miles on those original tires.  Probably it was best to think about my tires for what they had given me:  no flats.

Retirement

Due to the recent news of the retirement of my mother-in-law, I decided that the next blog challenge should be dedicated to her. Happy writing!

The Visit

"Barney" she announced. Is that a treat? I wonder. I start to salavate and the uncontrollable tail wagging begins. I bound for the kitchen mat and wait in anticipation.

This was definitely my favourite spot in the whole house. On this very mat I could catch mid-air tiny scraps of meat and vegetables which always impressed the owners. And let's not forget the unrelenting praise and ear scratching received at this very spot. Yes, this place was the congregation area for the entire family; here I would find the answer to the daunting declaration that had made my owner so excitable.

Once more I hear the word "Barney." And then she moves quickly for the front door. Again, I leap to the mat in the hallway where I can look out the tiny window at the bottom of the door.

I loved this mat as well. From here I could see the comings and goings of strangers and friends alike. At this spot, I could provide a very important service for my owners: home security and protection. I would not receive a treat here, however, and so I was beginning to doubt my earlier intuition that Barney was a new brand of doggy treat.

I change my position, nose pressed against the glass to see if I could get a better look at what was happening outside. Just beyond the white bars and down the steep stairs I could see a funny-looking, bearded dog. As the grey-haired dog approached the house, I came to the realization that this was a dog to remember; a childhood buddy perhaps, a bretheren and mentor who had come for a visit.

Meat dreams

I'm running. Catching up but just out of reach, I envision my canines sinking into my quarry. I anticipate the warm pulsing taste and crunching sound. If only I could get another few inches, a little faster, a spurt of speed... but it turns right, then darts left. That fluffy tail deceptively hints one way, while my quarry goes the other way. I wish I could run up the trees like he does. What magic does he have? Maybe that tail holds all the magic. If only I had one of those. If only.

Escaping into a tree, my quarry suddenly appears twenty feet behind me. His magic tail turns to wings. But I know it's him.  I'm not so easily fooled. I bolt straight at him like an arrow. I fly, only brief moments does the ground contact my paws. Both front legs in sync, with my back legs following closely behind.  I see my teeth reflected in my quarry's eye. But magic saves him. He disappears behind the cape of wings and is gone.

With watering jaws, I find myself lying on my side in the sun.  I'm at my lookout spot. The portal to the outside is creaking open. The bringer of meat has arrived. The master hunter, who always has fresh quarry. Sometimes after his fill, he shares his plunder. I ask him for meat. He understands my desires and asks me to worship the God of the Hunt, Ball. I retrieve the idol so we can begin the rites.

He takes the idol, gives it life. It flies and bounds. I give chase. It veers and tries to allude me, but I catch it mid leap. I hold it until it dies. Sometimes it feigns death and breaks my vise-like hold and gets free for a short time. Not this time. I bring it back to the master. He once again brings it back to life.

The ceremony goes on endlessly, until it ends. Maybe the master has run out of magic. Maybe he needs meat to make magic. Or maybe the God of the Hunt has been satisfied and delivered us manna, Greenies.   The master goes to the window to watch his quarry.  His paws twitch a lot while he looks out the window.  Maybe his clicking noises bring the quarry to him. I've heard the quarry making noises too. They are not really the same.  His paws continue to click.  Someday I will learn that magic.  My master will stare out his window forever.

I want meat. I better get back to my lookout. Maybe magic will take me outside to the chase and the meat of my quarry.  I rest and await the magic.