Saturday, January 31, 2015
Friday, January 30, 2015
I’d been drinking at the local dance club for hours. The Pepper Mill had its fair share of patrons, but I found it lacking for a standard Saturday night. I stood up to leave and was stopped dead in my tracks.
She hit the scene like a Betamax player: born in 1975 and like nothing I’d ever seen before. With her hair all in place and the perfect smattering of makeup, she could pass for late 20’s. Her curves were perfectly insane. She had a rack that stood out like a prism at noon on a cloudless day. The slight sheer in the black material of her top hinted at a ruby red bra. Her jeans were nearly painted on her generous backside. The platform heels she was wearing had no business on the dance floor unless you were on Dancing with the Stars.
I tried to gather my jaw off the floor. Her confidence and youthful looks left me feeling like an antique typewriter missing the letter Q. How could it be that she looked like that? I panicked and headed for the door.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t make a clean escape. Her eyes caught up with mine. She half strutted – half stalked her way over to where I was standing. She gave a crooked grin and said, “How’s it going, Buckaroo?”
I cringed at the old endearment. Over twenty years had passed since high school, and in that moment I realized the error of my ancient decisions. Back then, she had been quiet and plain. I dumped her for the head cheerleader because that’s what was expected from the star basketball player. I knew it would crush her, and I felt badly about it. Now here she was looking like a million dollars. And me? I just looked old and broken.
“Hey, Kansas,” I replied.
“Buy me a drink, you fool,” she teased and headed to the bar.
Maybe it just takes a couple decades for second chances to roll around.
Thursday, January 29, 2015
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Monday, January 26, 2015
Sunday, January 25, 2015
Saturday, January 24, 2015
Friday, January 23, 2015
Thursday, January 22, 2015
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Monday, January 19, 2015
Sunday, January 18, 2015
Saturday, January 17, 2015
Friday, January 16, 2015
Thursday, January 15, 2015
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
Monday, January 12, 2015
Sunday, January 11, 2015
Saturday, January 10, 2015
Friday, January 9, 2015
Thursday, January 8, 2015
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
Tuesday, January 6, 2015
I tried desperately to make sense of what The King had said.
“Who are you?”
The question rang in my ears over and over. How could my own Father no longer recognize me? I used the edge of my war torn cloak to wipe at the tears and dirt that stained my face, praying for Him to see me.
“Father,” I said softly. “It’s me. It’s your son. Your lastborn.”
“You look familiar to me. News had come my lastborn was dead. You look nothing like him.” The King said as he leaned forward in his throne. His eyes narrowed as He looked hard into my eyes, searching for the answers held in my soul. When finally a spark of recognition reached His eyes, it was all I could do to not weep from joy.
“Lastborn, it seems you speak the truth, but your form is not as it should be. Tell me of your time on the fields.”
I explained how my courier mission had taken me to the front lines. I told Him how the angel stood above me ready to strike but stilled his sword. I left out no detail when describing how the angel’s mortal wound mixed blood into mine. All the while, He stared with calculating eyes as I relayed every piece of how I found myself to be here.
“You speak truth, Lastborn. But you are no longer one of us. The angel’s blood that courses through your veins will only grow stronger as it binds with yours.”
The King sat back and rubbed his fingers against weary eyes. “It is no light decision that I make. You must know this. But we can no longer support you here.”
I felt like I had been kicked down an endless well. Banished. From my home. The thought was near unbearable. “Father,” I pleaded, hoping beyond hope he would change his mind.
“Have you not seen yourself since battle, Lastborn?”
Suddenly, the question pulled me from my free fall. I hadn’t. I don’t know why looking at myself would make any difference. Surely this had to be a trick question of some sort. “No, I haven’t, Father. But why…”
The King cut me off and waved toward polished marble floor surrounding His throne.
I slowly tilted my eyes downward.