Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to unknown Friends

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to unknown Friends

Even though I don’t have a mailing address for you ; I am writing you this Christmas letter in hopes that it does makes its way to you somehow. I am writing this to the friends I have not yet met. Although we are strangers today ; one never knows who one will meet someday . In fact all friends we now have , were once strangers .

It may be cold where you are or the sun could be shining brightly down but my wishes and hopes are the same for you as the friends I have. I wish you health and happiness. Peace and Joy .

There are countless people in the world who may not have a home this Christmas . Some are in shelters and some live on the streets. My wish for you is the same . Health and Happiness. Peace and Joy and HOPE

If you have HOPE at Christmas and keep it going through the year ; life can seem that much better .

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays . I say this not to exclude anyone ; as everyone deserves to have Health , Happiness, Peace ,Joy and HOPE .

Signed : Someone who cares x o

See YA Later Doris

This morning I woke up around 5:45 . I hadn’t slept much at all . Sundays in this town are not the same. My regular cafe haunts are not open and for some reason ;sitting at a Tim Hortons is not the same; but I needed a coffee. I have instant coffee at home ; but that doesn't have the same kick as a steaming hot cup of java.

I walked up my street ; passed the local drug store and stopped into Tim Hortons. I ordered my extra large double-double and sat down; pulling out my journal .

I had only started to write when I felt eyes burning the back of my head . I turned around and there was a granmotherly type woman looking over my shoulder.

“So , you like to write do you ? ” she said
“Yeah I do ” I answered
“Well then ; if you like to write; maybe you should say the words as they were meant to be said ”
“What do you mean ?” I asked
” When I asked if you liked to write ; you answered “Yeah I do ” . You should have said “Yes I do”
“Everyone says something in slang ” I told her.
“Well ! I am not everyone and neither are you. I am someone and so are you” she replied
“What do you like to write about ? What\’s your name ? I like to know who I am having a conversation with. I am Doris” she added
“My name\’s Joe and I write about whatever is on my mind” I said
“Well then Joe ; it appears nothing is on your mind this morning. There is barely anything written down ”

I wondered ; how could I write anything down when I had this woman talking to me . To talk to her and write would be rude.

“I am 83 years old Joe and I still keep a diary. I\’ve been writing in in since I was a child.”

Doris went into her handbag and pulled out a burgundy book with some embroidered design on it. It had a little brass button and gold cord to fasten it shut.

The journal I have with me today is nothing more than a binder with lined paper in it.

“That\’s a very nice diary Doris ” I said
“It\’s not about the paper or the pens you use to write Joe. A nineteen cent pen can convey the same messages and thoughts as one of those fancy gold pens ” Doris remarked

I wondered if there was still nineteen cent pens .
“I will leave you alobe to write Joe . I have people waiting at a table for me . I hope I didn\’ bother you ”
“Not at all Doris. It was nice talking to you”

Doris walked over to her table where another woman and gentleman were sitting .

“See ya later Joe ” she said as she walked from my table
“Hey Doris” I said “If you are going to say something; maybe you should say the words as they were meant to be said”
She walked back to my table . “What do you mean Joe?”
“You said “see YA later” . You should have said See you later ”
She smiled and said ” Yes. You are correct-smartass ! ”
She smiled once more and went back to her table .
I wasn\’t sure what to write about. I drank my coffee-touched Doris on the shoulder as I left Tim Hortons and said “see ya later ”

“A kindly old woman ;about five foot three
Talking at the donut shop; just her and me

A diary of burgundy\’ with so many stories told
Hands full of liver spots -eighty three years old

Wrinkled hands-hair of grey
This morning was a very good day

I met Doris -a grandmotherly type
With a 19 cent pen I sit here and write

“See ya later Doris”

Ring upon my finger

Upon my finger; I wear a ring
Not made of any precious metal ; but still; a valued thing

It has no gemstones that shine and glisten
I wear it in memory of one who listened

Not made of silver, not made of gold
I love you friend; your story is told.

Upon my finger; I wear a ring
In my mind ; it means all things

It tells so many stories of love and pain
I will never know anpther ; quite like you again .

I Love You ! my distant friend ; yet one who was so close in my heart xo

The One in The Picture

There are flickers of light dancing off my walls . They are the only lights I have on in the house tonight. I am laying on the floor with my fuzzy blue blanket as a barrier between me and the dingy brown carpet. I am leaning on my elbows; hands under my chin . The lights enchant me ; taking me away from this little hole of an apartment ; but at least I have a home . I am laying on the floor ;pretty well under my Christmas tree. It's funny how this year I seem to be the first one with my tree up . Yesterday my Mom put up her tree and I strung the lights. Last year I didn't put up a tree.

This year for some reason I did . Amid all the strung lights; which are flickering and baubles on my tree are pictures of my friends ; both my facebook friends and others . The year is almost over. In comparison to other years 2009 hasn't been my greatest. I have lost my job and some friends; yet I have gained many more; whose pictures are on my tree. I've made it further than I would have thought. I am out of the dark now . Moreso than I would have though. Even the ones who are no longer in my life; pictures of them are on my tree.

My journal is sitting next to me . Once in awhile I pick up my pen and I write in it . There is a picture less than six inches from my face. That picture is the reaosn I pick up my pen and write in my journal tonight. For the past two weeks or so I have been working on a story ; a real life story. I have only been writing it about two weeks but the events over the past year have lead me once again to write it.

I write and put down my pen constantly ; thinking my writing isn;t doing the one in the picture any justice. I already know what the beginning the middle and end of the story is . I can't change how it ends; even though I wish I could . I don't even know if when it is finished if I will post it or not. No one here knows the one in the picture. As much as I love to write ; this is a difficult one to finish . It's a real life story . I can't change the ending. But ; maybe like someone told me ; it may give someone a new beginning . I just hope the one in the picture would have liked how I wrote his story .

My First Crush-My Ponytailed Princess

It was grade 2 or 3 I first fell in love . At least a 8 or 9 year old type of love . Sigh ! I remember it well. It was at a country school called Littles Corners Public School . Her name was Janice. She sat directly in front of me in class. I think I fell in love with her pony tail wrapped up tight in that red elastic band with the two bright yellow plastic balls . I was always temped to grab the elastic band and let it snap just to see her reaction .

One day I fell to temptation. SNAP !!!!

WAAAH !! She howled . How could two little yellow plastic balls cause her to cry out. I was soon going to find out. She pulled the elastic from her hair . She placed one end of the elastic on the thumb of her right and held the other end between her thumb and index finger. She pulled it back ; like an arrow on a bow and let it go .

That little elastic band had some force behind it . WAAAH ! That time it was me. The elastic and those two little yellow plastic balls came full force hitting me just under my right eye; smacking into my cheek bone.

"THERE! Hows that feel Joey ? It doesn't tickle ; does it ? " Janice said ; not so sweetly
The love of my 2nd or 3rd grade . The one who had the cutest; well kempt pony tail had made me cry ; but yet there was something thrilling about it .

At recess we would chase each other around the old school bell which was set up on a rock base. In the winter time we would slide down the hill on our backs ; using our jackets as our sleds. In the springtime I would stick my hand in the neighbouring fence and pull flowers from the garden ; only to be left with the stem in my hand. I offered it to her . She gave me look of dismay and disgust. "That's not a flower Joey; that's a stem.

Was there no pleasing this girl ? The year ended and it was summer vacation . In the fall; on return to school we were in the same class yet again . YES !!!

But along with a new year came some new students . SIGH ! The love of second or third grade had moved on . She had found a new boy .

So there I sat behind another girl who had a ponytail ; not quite as nice or as long or as well kempt as Janice . Should I ? I let it go . There was no one quite like my pony tailed princess Janice .

One Person One Voice One Vote One Difference

I was reading through a book this morning and I cam across this .
'It is written by Edward Everett Hale

"I am only one
But still I am one
I cannot do everything
but I can still do something
And becuase I can not do everything
I will not refuse to do the something I can do "

Its easy to think that one voice or one vote or one opinion cannot always make a difference to the world as a whole . It can however make a difference to one person ; and isnt that a good starting point . I came across these in a book as well .

In 1645 one vote gave Oliver Cromwell control if England
In 1776 one vote gave America the English language rather than German
In 1875 one vote changed France from a Monarchy to a republic
In 1923 one vote gave Adolph Hitler control of the Nazis

Just one vote ; one voice can and did make a vast difference. That one vote or voice is not always a positive thing. That is why it is important to vote or voice your opinion. It does make a difference.

I won't "give it up already" as some have told me and not always in such sugar coated ways . I write about things I care about and believe in . That is how I voice my opinion.

I may be just one person with one voice but I know I do make a difference in a few peoples lives .

What about you ?

Limbs now bare-like boney fingers

Underneath this tree I sit ; like so many times before
Names carved in with a pocket knife ; both mine and yours

It was summertime; leaves protected us from the sun
It's limbs now bare; like bony fingers
Yet ; those memories linger

The ground I sit on is cold to the touch
But this tree-this park; it means so much

After running through this park
Sometimes even after dark

We'd sit beneath this big oak tree
Just you -Just me

We stepped away from the world outside
We'd sit on the swings and slide down the slide

We'd rest our backs upon the tree
And talk of things; we'd wish would be

Underneath that tree I sit; upon the the frosty grass
You are no longer in the present ; yet ; a gem of my past

It's limbs now bare; like boney fingers
Yet ; so many great memories forever will linger