THE DUST WILL WAIT

(Second Post about Paradise, CA and the Camp Fire) My brother and his wife have a 5-year old grand niece, Kaylin, who lost her "pink kitty" in the fire that swept through Paradise, CA on November 8. Kaylin and her family lost pretty much everything they owned, except for whatever they were able to throw in their vehicle before driving away. As the weeks headed toward Christmas, the little girl told her mama, Kristin, that she wanted "pink kitty" back from the old house for Christmas. Mama Kristin, daddy, grandpa and grandpa and other family members searched the internet and stores in Sacramento and Chico.   There was no match found for "pink kitty." Kristin decided to reach out on facebook. "I need a Christmas Miracle Please, " she wrote on the Facebook Page   Paradise Fire-Adopt A Family.   A blurry cropped background photo of "pink kitty" was attached to show readers the object of their search. Hundreds responded.  So

Paradise Story #3 Guest post by HolliAnne December 19, 2018 I went to Paradise by myself today.  I wasn't even planning to go to our house, but I found myself turning the steering wheel to go down that old familiar road again. I sat in the driveway staring at our chimney, not really sure why I was there. My legs took me out of the car and over to the corner of the house that had held my "little" library. I looked down at my feet and it was like something out of a movie.  A page from a book, singed and wet, but surprisingly legible. I bent down and my heart skipped a beat.  It was a page from my favorite trilogy of poetry. The Torch-Bearers. I've been kicking myself for weeks for not grabbing my complete, signed collection of poetry books by my favorite author, Alfred Noyes.  My husband teases me for reading hundred-year-old English poetry, but I love this guy's writing! The words that jumped out to me immediately are from the first vol

Ron had just stepped into the shower after 7 a.m. on that Thursday morning in November.  He's in pretty good shape for being 83, and his wife Kay is a "much younger" active and sharp lady.  (Nine years!)     Kay heard their names being called on the stairs of the house they shared with her sister and brother in law.  They live on the upper level, and the other couple on the lowest level.  They shared the main floor kitchen and great room.  It                                                                                      was a good arrangement. Meg's voice signaled alarm so Kay responded quickly. "I can see a fire, and the wind is blowing this way. " Meg called out. "I think we need to get dressed and grab our important things and leave." Kay was immediately concerned and asked more questions.  She then ran to the window and was shocked by the orange glow towards the northeast that Meg had described.  Her apprehension now matched her s

In the lovely fall days of September, we made the four-hour drive to spend the weekend in the Portland, OR area and  attend the Sunday evening wedding of our great nephew and his beautiful bride. A fun part about our trip is that our 9 year-old granddaughter Mizelle came along.  She chose to accompany us rather than go to "fall ball" practices and games that her step-dad attended with her brothers.  Her mama, our ER nurse daughter, was scheduled to work. Mizelle enjoyed the two days with her cousins that live in the area and they all looked forward to the outdoor wedding. The setting on a hillside overlooking farms and forests was romantic, gorgeous, and designed to provide an intimate setting for the wedding guests.  There was a number of young ones in the children friendly venue and as grandparents we thought we kept a fairly 'eagle' eye on the one for whom we were responsible.   As the catered reception grew into the later hours we knew we had to le

Regret is the word to describe how I feel that I have not continued to write. Blog friends have drifted by the wayside as have stories that seem to get more difficult to recall.   And, unfortunately, life has been an arduous journey the past few years. Facebook and other social media has certainly created other ways of sharing.  But it hasn't been as fulfilling. Nor as personal. The first few years of my blog are transferred into book form which I keep as decoration for my coffee table.  (The publisher is no longer allowing for blog transfer to paper so I need to look for another vendor to complete that task.) My blog, although not a bottle, allows me to save moments in time into short stories that light up my memories as I pour over them.   I don't know how many things from the past few years will find their way to this blog.  But my heart  says to return and light up some more.