A Time To rememberThe Power Of The Written Word
I have in my lifetime witnessed some very strange occurences and discovered that some of these events were explainable or close to it. Within a fog rising from the opening of a very large cave early one morning revealed quite clearly to me or so it seemed human images and they faded as quickly as they had appeared. The ghost of a woman that had passed away appeared to me one night in my home. The specter frightened my dog and she lay down and whimpered. A friend of mine who lay dieing asked me if he would know when it was time. I told him an angel would be waiting at his door. Early the next morning as his wife entered his room he told her to step aside for there was an angel in the doorway. He passed away moments later One particular day several years ago while sitting in a small room in the rear of the building that housed the U. S. Post Office and trying to finish a chapter in a book I was writing. My wife, the Post Master of our town, occupied the front part of the building separated by one door. The spring day was bright with sunlight and very pleasantly warm. Nothing seemed amiss to suggest an unusual day and I sat at my desk quite content enjoying a cup of coffee, pecking away at the keyboard of my word processor, changing a sentence or two from time to time. I stood up to stretch my legs and think about how I would finish the chapter.
Later, with a steaming cup of coffee in hand I sat down again still uncertain how I would end the chapter. I could not decide whether to end the life of one of the characters or let him live and become a major aspect of the book. Pondering the question, evaluating the man who stood on the brink of death, I sat with fingers poised to either kill the man or let him live.
Unbeknownst to me, my wife at her station was suddenly confronted with a cold wind entering the outer doorway, so cold she shivered uncontrollably. She sat down unable to stand for a few moments.
The mail carrier came and found her sitting and asked if she was ill and she replied she didn’t know but was very cold.
During this time or shortly after, perhaps a moment or so I made a decision to let the man live and thought no more about it.
An hour past and during that time my wife was still not feeling much better and commented on the cold wind that had entered her work place, for as I have said it was a very pleasant day outside.
Sometime during that approximate hour and after my decision to let the man in my book live, a neighbor came to town and told the store keeper across the road from the post office he had come close to drowning in the Niangua River after falling from his mule. The fall had addled him, he said and he couldn’t get up and lay face down in the water. Struggling desperately he tried reaching for the bank, but couldn’t get a hand hold and just as he was about to give up he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up into my face. He said I quickly pulled him upon the bank, but too weak to speak he said, he lay there for time before sitting up and looked around for me, but I was no where to be seen..
He finally managed to get astride the mule and by the time he reached his house was feeling much better and came to town to tell of his close encounter with death. He told the storekeeper he didn’t understand why I didn’t wait around, but wanted to thank me for saving him from drowning. The man left and returned home.
The storekeeper came to the Post Office and told my wife of the incident and asked if I had returned from the river. My wife told the storekeeper I had been in my studio all morning and the neighbor must be mistaken.
Some later I confronted the neighbor about his experience at the river and he without hesitation expressed gratitude for saving his life. He asked why I hadn’t stayed and had been a bit disappointed by my quick departure from the scene.
I told him he must have been mistaken and it was someone else who had pulled him from the river.
“No,” he replied emphatically, “it was you!”
Later, with a steaming cup of coffee in hand I sat down again still uncertain how I would end the chapter. I could not decide whether to end the life of one of the characters or let him live and become a major aspect of the book. Pondering the question, evaluating the man who stood on the brink of death, I sat with fingers poised to either kill the man or let him live.
Unbeknownst to me, my wife at her station was suddenly confronted with a cold wind entering the outer doorway, so cold she shivered uncontrollably. She sat down unable to stand for a few moments.
The mail carrier came and found her sitting and asked if she was ill and she replied she didn’t know but was very cold.
During this time or shortly after, perhaps a moment or so I made a decision to let the man live and thought no more about it.
An hour past and during that time my wife was still not feeling much better and commented on the cold wind that had entered her work place, for as I have said it was a very pleasant day outside.
Sometime during that approximate hour and after my decision to let the man in my book live, a neighbor came to town and told the store keeper across the road from the post office he had come close to drowning in the Niangua River after falling from his mule. The fall had addled him, he said and he couldn’t get up and lay face down in the water. Struggling desperately he tried reaching for the bank, but couldn’t get a hand hold and just as he was about to give up he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up into my face. He said I quickly pulled him upon the bank, but too weak to speak he said, he lay there for time before sitting up and looked around for me, but I was no where to be seen..
He finally managed to get astride the mule and by the time he reached his house was feeling much better and came to town to tell of his close encounter with death. He told the storekeeper he didn’t understand why I didn’t wait around, but wanted to thank me for saving him from drowning. The man left and returned home.
The storekeeper came to the Post Office and told my wife of the incident and asked if I had returned from the river. My wife told the storekeeper I had been in my studio all morning and the neighbor must be mistaken.
Some later I confronted the neighbor about his experience at the river and he without hesitation expressed gratitude for saving his life. He asked why I hadn’t stayed and had been a bit disappointed by my quick departure from the scene.
I told him he must have been mistaken and it was someone else who had pulled him from the river.
“No,” he replied emphatically, “it was you!”
Adios
No comments:
Post a Comment