People and Trees

People can be like blowing trees. When something strikes their fancy, they can either “dance” at the idea and shimmer in the light “breeze” as they go along with whatever it was that struck their mood in a positive way. Or they can blow in a tumultuous frenzy. We never know, do we, which way people will go. I think the trick is knowing how to react to it. I only have one word for this. CALM. What happens when the wind blows even harder? The trees blow fiercer. What happens when another human reacts in a hateful, rude, and mean way to another human who is going off and being hateful? You get more hate.

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Life’s is a Rush

Life is hurry up and wait. In the military I learned that is exactly what they do. In reality they just want to make sure you’re prepared. In civilian life it’s that way too. Example: Whenever I go somewhere by flying, I sweat the connecting flights because it’s never known if they’re going to be on time. Will they leave you on the tar-mac when you land because there are no open gates? This has happened to me twice and it’s always the same airport. Then once I get off the plane I have to race to my next gate (usually what feels like a few football fields in length away). Sometimes the connecting flight is delayed. I race to the gate thinking I’m late only to find out it’s still an hour until we board because the plane hasn’t arrived yet. Life can be exhausting, literally and figuratively.

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The First Time

The first time I wore makeup I was 15.  No, I didn’t listen to those who told me how to wear it correctly, even though they taught me how to wear it right.  I always thought if I didn’t wear enough, then it wouldn’t look like I was wearing any. Oh how I laugh at that now. I’m pretty sure people snickered behind my back. It’s OK, I laugh at it myself. What I learned as I grew older was that it’s not what you do…..but how you do it. Creating an illusion is what I call it. This goes for much of what we do. Is there really that much work to be done? Maybe. But how it gets done the key. So, the first time you have to do something, listen to the advice of those around you who know what they are doing. Take it into consideration. Think about how you would like to accomplish it (whatever it is). What is the end result you would like for it to be that works well? Then come up with a way to get there.

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Time Flies

Hello Everyone:

I’ve been away for a good 3 years from this blog.  I do apologize for my absence. I’ve been writing heavily and was able to finish my first novel in that time frame. I am blogging again, so I will continue this blog but only on a weekly basis. I started an author blog as well. The address is lmmontes777.wordpress.com if you choose to pop in and give it a read. That one I write in more frequently; at least 2 to 3 times/wk. Thank you all for stopping by.

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L. M. Montes

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Author of The Triunix of Time

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Daytime in Darkness

It was the 4th of July and an enormous festival came to North Town. There was a petting zoo, games of all kinds from darts to baseball, a rodeo, and food. The combination of various aromas from the food made everyone hungry. Barbeque chicken from one booth and hamburgers from another blended causing some to eat both from lack of being able to choose which smelt better.

The children ran rampant playing games and chasing each other. Water balloons served to combat the heat of the day. The town was a safe town, so parents never thought twice about allowing their children to run off and play without keeping them close. It was the perfect day for everyone. Until the fireworks.

Dusk had fallen and the adults began to settle in the large park; sitting or lying on their blankets with their children now playing around them waiting for the fireworks to start. Dusk now faded into darkness with no moon for moonlight; just the stars blinking in the clear night sky.

The fireworks started and all sat in silence staring upward as colors exploded in bright flashes, spreading across the sky. All people, now enthralled with the beauty, continued to gaze up, mesmerized. One set of fireworks, the last set, spread across the expanse of darkness lighting up the whole park as though it suddenly turned to day. It lasted the count of ten at least, and everyone, so engrossed they were, that they never realized or became aware that their children disappeared into this light.

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Used Memories

The car was old, twenty years at least and in good condition. The year didn’t matter to me though, it was going to be mine. After relying too much on public transportation, it will be nice to jump in my own car and go anywhere. The thought of it exhilarated me to the core.

The paint on the car was original. Burgundy in color, it gleamed back at me for the most part with some dullness in some spots. The chrome embellished in a stately trim. It was mine and I loved it.

The man I was buying it from had stood in his driveway staring at it with a tear in his eye; like he was losing his best friend. While I looked it over, he repeated to himself, “It was used for so much. So many memories.” I didn’t really pay attention to the rest of what he said. To me it was just mumbo jumbo; boring stories. All I cared about was making it mine.

Turning to him, a tear rolled over his cheek to his chin. I asked, “Why are you selling it if you’re having such a hard time letting it go?”

“The wife. The wife,” he said.

“But, your wife is dead.”

“It’s too hard. I can’t look at the memories anymore,” he said.

Maybe I should have asked him to explain, but in reality it wasn’t my business. Oh well, I stood back and took a picture with my phone and uploaded it to Facebook. That done, I wrote the man a check paying for the car and drove my prized possession home.

Since it was Friday and I had no more clients for the day, I took the rest of the day off, went home, packed a suitcase and headed to my boyfriend Will’s for the weekend. I know he’ll love my new car. Then it happened.

The June sun leaned toward the western sky. A light breeze sang in the air. I slid behind the wheel, ignited the engine, and cruised to Highway 22. Will lived in Sisters, which was in the mountains near the Three Sisters volcanoes. They were supposed to be extinct, but the south sister showed some activity as of late. Nothing too special though.

The road was sparse, only a car here and there passed. The mountains stood in front ready to greet me with their winding trail. They faded just then and open terrain was left in their place. Different looking mountains appeared in the far distance. I no longer sat behind the wheel. Instead, I was in the middle between the man I bought the car from and his wife. My breath caught and words failed me. All I heard was a scream, but it didn’t come from the man or his wife. I realized it had come from me. But, they didn’t seem to hear it. They were engaged in the countryside and just smiled at each other.

“Hey,” I said to the man. “What are you doing here? I thought your wife was dead. Where did you come from?” But, the man didn’t answer. He continued to go on as though I weren’t even there. I tried to shove his arm to get his attention, but my hand went through it. Now, he morphed into a younger version of himself, as did his wife. Again, the terrain changed. Voices from the backseat became audible. A slow turn of my head showed two male teenagers in the backseat talking about what they were going to do first when they got to the cabin. I had to be dreaming. Maybe I was actually at home asleep on my bed. I squeezed my eyes shut hoping that when I opened them all would be normal. But, no.

Deciding to play along, I smiled and said, “Hi.” They didn’t see or hear me. I turned back to the front. “What in God’s name is going on?” I asked to no one.

Again, everything changed. I’m still in the middle. A briefcase sat next to me and the man was driving. To work? We were downtown Salem. He rounded the corner and parked the car in front of an office building on Liberty Street. The man reached across to his briefcase and stepped out, shutting the door behind him. Taking the opportunity I went out as well. But, when I stepped out, I saw that I was on Highway 22 parked on the shoulder. The mountains were still ahead of me. How? Creasing my brow, I scratched my head. Looking back at the car I opened the door and slowly placed myself behind the wheel. The windows showed I was still parked downtown, but looking out the open door I saw Highway 22.

Then, it dawned on me. Why had I not thought of it before? All those boring stories the man told when I was looking over the car were all the good memories he had in this car. I thought back to the recent events in the car just a few minutes ago. They did match some of the stories he told me today. I actually experienced those memories. I smiled and chuckled. I guess I not only purchased a used car but used memories as well.

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Thank You

I would like to take this time to thank all of my readers and followers for taking the time to visit my site.  I enjoy writing and am thrilled to be a part of your day.  I sincerely wish all of you a very prosperous and awesome year this 2016.  I also wish you many blessings, happiness, and growth.  Lot’s of Love to All.

L. Montes (lischarm)

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The Moving Bed

The trip grew excruciatingly long and monotonous.  The tires hummed at a hypnotic 80 mph, smooth as wind that passed us as we drove.  Just 300 miles to go till home on the other side of the state.  I rested my head on the window, closed my eyes and hoped for sleep, but the cold radiated from the window and seeped through my hair straight to my skull.  Clunk! My body jolted upright.  My brain was foggy, a hard ache spasmed at my temples.  My bed is all I can think about,  but the more I think about it the more I long for it.  There is no lying down in the back seat.  It’s filled with stuff.  I pulled the lever to recline my seat but it only moved 2 inches.  Oh how I want my bed.  The traffic slowed to a turtles pace.  Two hours and one mile later, I am still longing for my bed.  Will it really be there?  So soft and covers filled with down feathers.  A pillow to sink my head in for eternity.  The traffic picks up pace once again.  The hum and rhythmic cadence it carried me.  50 miles to go.  Where did the time go?  I don’t remember.

Staring out the window, hills rise to meet the horizon.  Almost home.  My bed, so close yet still so far.  I continued to stare out . . . at nothing and everything.  The wheels still hummed and motion ran the length of road having yet minutes to go.  I jerked forward.  The car stopped, but inside, my body still moved.  It’s still on the highway.

Finally, I reach my bed.  I don my PJ’s after a long hot shower.  Peeling back the down comforter, I slid underneath and placed the feathers over me.  I closed my eyes and allowed the plush cushions to envelope me . . .  while the bed hummed a hypnotic wave of wind and motion, carrying me to sleep and dreams.

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Out the Window

Why did I not see this window from the outside of the house before? There shouldn’t be one, but there it sat in its place surrounded by wall as I peered out. The driveway below spread a long length of gravel forty yards from the street to the garage. Impossible. This shouldn’t even be the driveway side of the house. It should be the opposite side. What was going on? This was the third floor. There were only four windows on this floor, not five. There had to be a rational explanation for this.

I turned and ran down the stairs and out the front door. Once outside I walked around the house looking up counting the windows on the third floor. Ending in the driveway, I noted there were no windows on the third floor on this side of the house, only 2 windows in the front, 2 windows in the back and none on either of the other sides. Am I crazy? Just then my neighbor Charlotte walked up.

“Hi,” said Charlotte.

“Hi,” I said.

She said nothing back and looked up to follow my gaze. Then, she said, “What are we looking at?”

“Have you ever seen five windows on the third floor of my house?”

“I don’t know. I never thought about it before. What’s the big deal?”

“Here, let me show you. But, first I want you to walk around the house and count the number of windows on the third floor.”

“Why?”

“Just humor me.”

Charlotte made the trek around the house. She rounded the last corner, a perplexed crease in her brows telling me of her confusion.

“Follow me,” I said. “I have to show you something.”

On the third floor once again, I pointed out the fifth window and the oddity of it the whole misplacement of it.

“That’s freaky,” said Charlotte.

Just then the scenery out this window began to change. The gravel faded out and creamy green grass faded in, adorning a vast countryside.  A covered wagon drawn by a team of horses made its trek along the horizon.

“You’re seeing this too right?” I said.

“Yah,” said Charlotte.  “Are you sure this is a window?”

“Of course it’s a window.  What else would it be?”

“A time warp.”

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