I'll Never Forget

I touched the ring in my pocket, the one I had told her father I wanted to offer his daughter. That was so long ago.

I look at her now, from the doorway to he room. She smiles sweetly at me from her place in bed, buried deep under the covers, which she has pulled up to her chin so all I can see is her face. We have shared a lifetime together. There have been a lifetime of treasured memories, a whole load of stories to cherish.

"Hello, my darling," I say as I softly sit on the edge of the bed, taking her warm hand in my own. I raise her hand to my lips and kiss it gently before letting it go.
"Hello," she says weakly, confusion evident in her voice.
"I'm Joseph, do you remember me?" I ask, reminding myself not to hope. "I've been coming to see you for a while now."
"I'm sorry," she says, her smile sad as her eyes meet mine.
"It's ok."
"But I shouldn't forget your name," she says.
"Oh?" I say, raising an eyebrow,
"Joseph was my husband's name."
"I've come to take you to dinner," I say after a moment, rising from the bed.
"Oh yes," her smile widened. "the nurses told me, they helped me pick a dress specially."
"Lovely," I say, smiling in return. "But first, my dear, I believe you lost something precious." I reach into my pocket and pull out the ring. Her face lights up and she gasps.
"Wherever did you find that?" she asks breathlessly. "My Joseph gave that to me!"
"Would you like me to put it on for you?" I ask. Eagerly, she nods, holding out her hand. Carefully, I slip the ring onto her finger. Just as I had done that night.

I offer a hand as she slowly, shakily gets out from under the covers.I gasp as she straightens up. She won't remember, but I do. I'll never forget it. It is the dress she wore the night I proposed.

Wish You Were Here

I know I'm not the only one. Not the only one who wishes you were here. There's a million hearts that were hurting cause they loved you. They've bled because you've gone. Times with you are now irreplaceable memories to treasure. To cherish for a lifetime. There a still times when the thought of you will cause a tear, but most memories put smiles on our faces.

The stories, the pictures, the times we shared were all amazing. But I still wish you were here. I wish we could make new memories. There's so many things I wish I could tell you. So many things I wish I could say. So many things I wish I could do with you. I was going to do all those things. Say all those things. Make all those memories. We had all the time in the world. And then suddenly we didn't.. All of a sudden it was too late. All of a sudden, you were gone.

I like to think you're still here. Somewhere. Even if I can't see you. I look to think you're watching as life goes on. That you're not really missing out at all. You just can't be part of it so much anymore.

So, if you are still here, somewhere, know this. We still think of you. Everyday. We won't ever forget you. And we miss you. Keep watching though, and one day, we might see each other again.

Dark Horse

“Perry is back!” announced a woman loudly as he walked into the room. He smiled graciously at the applauding crowd either side of him, who had parted either side of him to make way for his entrance.

“Thank you,” he said as he reached the woman who had announced his arrival, his assistant, Clea.

“It’s so good to have you back Perry. We’ve missed you!”

“Aww, thanks Clea, it’s nice to know someone noticed I was gone,”

“Mr. Roberts,” she said, returning to her old, more formal ways of speaking, “you light this place up! Now, how are you feeling?” she asked, rubbing her hands together. “Are you ready to make a comeback?”

“I’m capable of anything Clea,” said Perry, a huge smile on his face. “Let’s do this!”

“And Clea?”

“Yes Sir?” she stopped in her tracks, a little further ahead and turned back to face him.

“What have I told you a thousand times?” he asked good naturedly, a kind smile on his face. “Perry Roberts is my stage name. Call me Paul. Please.”

“Ok… Paul..” Clea said uncertainly.

Paul rubbed his hands together as he continued along down the hall with Clea. “I am so pumped! Let’s get down to business shall we?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this.. to you… but, me too! Let’s do this!” Clea grabbed Paul’s hand and gave it a quick, tight squeeze before letting go again. “Mister Perry,” she said with a wink, opening the door to the studio.

“So,” Paul said, getting right to it with the producer and recording people. “the first disc will be full of empowering covers, and the second,” he said, pausing for dramatic effect, “will be full of originals, collaborations with the fabulous Miss Perry herself. I want this record to be one that inspires the kids to believe in themselves, that tells them, ‘it’s ok to be who you are’.” At this, Clea, Paul and the recording people jumped up and down with excitement. “We’re on a tight time frame people!” Paul said loudly, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get to it! We’re going to make this amazing!” There was a loud cheer from everyone in the room, then, silence. Perry Roberts had started serious work, and everyone knew what that meant. He wanted their best efforts. Now, he wanted focus, concentration, and silence. 

There was baited breath as Paul set himself up in the studio, then a sigh of pleasure as he opened his mouth to sing. Everyone loved Perry's voice, and they were also huge fans of his greatest musical inspiration and were eagerly awaiting her arrival tomorrow, along with the chance to hear both of their voices, together. 

And indeed, Mister Perry, was the comeback Paul had been hoping for. After a tricky last album and a bit of a downfall, this perfection of an album and the selfless, gracious chance the fabulous Miss Perry had given him, he was coming back with a vengeance. 

"You did it Paul," said Clea after the album had been initially released. 

"No Clea," he said, taking hold of her hand and fixing her with that dashing smile of his, "We did it. If it hadn't been for your encouragement, I probably wouldn't have come back and tried again. Thank you." 

"It would have been a tragedy to lose someone as awesome as you Paul. The world needs Perry Roberts. Especially the young ones. To show them it's ok. To be themselves, to shine, and to dream big." 

"World," said Paul, "You want to play with magic? I'm coming at you like a dark horse." 

Clea cheered, clapping him on the back. "Woohoo! That's the spirit! Perry. Is Back!" 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Did Perry seem familiar? That's because you may have read about him before. Read the beginning of his story here. 

Conflicted

As she watched the scene before her, happiness and excitement swirled within her, mingled with another feeling. One she hadn't expected. She'd been part of that world once, and now, no longer. Why she left, she couldn't remember. All she knew now was that watching, she desired nothing more than to be part of it all once more.

Yet, it seemed in this case, as in many others before, that wants and desires were vastly different to the reality. It seemed a reunion was but a dream. One of those dreams one wishes with everything they had would come true. While on one hand, she desired a reunion with the world she'd once loved, on the other, so many reasons why a reunion couldn't take place seemed to present themselves like barriers suddenly blocking her path.

And so an internal battle of the mind ensued. Desires versus realities, wants versus happenings, what could be versus what will. An internal struggle, to which no end seemed apparent. It seemed the choices were this; accept what will be and what cannot be, or fight for what could be.

In varying shapes and forms, people have these battles of conscience every day, some big, others small. So, the question is, how important is it? The want versus the apparent reality? Is it worth fighting for? And most importantly, what will you do- accept or fight?

Winds Of Protection

Fiery, intimidating, confronting. Those may be some of the words one may use to describe him. Yet, while he seemed quite strong in character on the exterior, that's just his surface. There's something more there, if one were to take the time to delve deeper.

Truth be told, the tough, intimidating young man, behind closed doors, was really quite scarred. Having always been told "you're a fighter", he embraced this perceived persona following a time of great hurt and pain and slowly developed a tough, exterior shell, the intimidating, fiery, confronting man the outside world sees.

The cool breeze swirling around him as he goes about life, created by his purposeful energy reminds him of that awful night when the whole world felt like it had frozen over and it gets him fired up all over again and he moves on once more, repeating the cycle again.

Secretly, he hopes that someone will be able to make him pause and cool off, yet, any attempts at approach only seem to result in fear overtaking and he runs, petrified of getting hurt. He longs for someone patient. Someone who will persist long enough for him to give them a chance. Someone to help him learn to believe that not everyone in the world is bad.