Emotional dustbin

A circle of gold that promised forever is laid to rest
in a box of broken dreams.

Everybody has a place in somebody's life. You could start at the top and then get pushed down the ranks, or get shuffled somewhere in the deck or get reshuffled into a new deck altogether.
Every person is accorded a certain level of importance. Moving forward and backwards until the cards are finally put away.

The threads seek each other out, choosing from a multitude of colours and sizes. Drawing each one to itself, firmly weaving them into its own tapestry, cutting loose where the pattern ends. Working year after year, making mistakes, tearing out threads, repairing the fabric and moving on.
This is the tapestry of life, the great pictures whose end cannot be seen. Many threads, many lives, many colours of different shapes and sizes go into making our one thread strong and our picture beautiful. Even in it's tragedy, even in sorrow, the picture is always beautiful. And in the end it will come to rest in the great halls of the dead along with so many others who have gone before. Each life tells a different tale, many are similar, no two alike, like a fingerprint we leave behind the story of our lives , quickly forgotten, lost in the dusty archives of the annals of time.

Unexpectably

"Death comes unexpectably!" railed the preacher to his mock congregation. He paced the green grass practicing with great vigor, the intonation had to be just right, grim and firm, it had to get people thinking about eternity. As the scene unfolds, a little girl, Pollyanna who had been watching him with great interest comes up and suggests that he talk about love instead.
I know the lesson was lost on me that day, because the only question rambling in my brain that day was, "Shouldn't it be unexpectedly?"
Today the words revisit me quite unexpectably.
My cousin drowned yesterday. I didn't know him well but that doesn't change anything, it doesn't stop being unexpected like a blow to the back of the head. It doesn't stop the sting of tears for those he left behind. I would say more but words escape me, the unfairness of it holds me bound.
You found your rest too soon my friend, sweet dreams, sleep well, good night.

A Thread

The pain is blinding, the torture, beyond compare. a ripping sounds fills the air, followed by quick strikes of a hand. There is a sharp intake of breath followed by an involuntary mummer of pain.
The minutes tick on a large clock nearby unnoticed.
Finally when hope is close to being lost, the girl steps back hands me a mirror and asks me to check my eyebrows. As my eyes open, fat tear drops that had thus far been building up behind closed lids roll down my face, I cannot hold them back. Numbly I nod at the mirror, barely casting it a glance.
My torturer pauses for a moment, and then with great sympathy proceeds to give me the best face massage i've had in a very long time.

Failed Attempts

Hamburgers, fries, cokes...
that's been my meal plan for the last few weeks, and i'm still not gaining weight!
What's up with the universe?
Maybe I should try healthy food :)

Drink and Drive? Drive and Drink?

A loud crash and a burst of light followed by silence, then
screaming, screaming, screaming.

These heart wrenching sounds tear us away from our beds and homes, someone is hurt, everyone knows it's an accident, how bad? We can only hope.
A quiet little neighborhood in the middle of the night comes alive as people step out of their houses in their night clothes, eager to see what the fuss is about.
A dazed man stands to the side, staring at his brand new Volkswagen, his teenage daughter screams at him for drinking, crying hysterically, swearing sporadically while the wife looks on concerned.
The crowd assess the damage, The car lies halfway onto the pavement firmly wedged against a street light. It's not going anywhere. Nobody was hurt, this time. Someone suggests that they claim insurance and go home.
Nobody says it, but they all think it, "It could have been worse."
It's a while before nerves settle, before the screaming stops ringing in my ears. The gravity of the situation sinks in, a man went to a party and had a good time, perhaps too much of a good time and couldn't make his way home. This time his car paid for it. Next time who will it be? His wife? His child? Will he pay with his own life?
What will it take to keep drunk drivers off our streets, out of our neighborhoods? You'd never be able to pick them out just like that, they're just regular people, family people, the rich, the affluent, but when those disguises drop, they are the nightmares that roam our streets and plague our cities.
The rule's easy enough to follow, don't drink and drive, designate a driver or hire a cab, it doesn't cost much.
So if you want to drive, don't drink and if you want to drink, do not drive. Losing your life isn't the worst thing that you could do.