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It is a question often asked this time of season:
"What will happen in the coming year?"
Despite the oppressive crush of cynicism from people
who habitually see life's glass as being half empty, I
will take this opportunity to stand as a champion, a
bulwark, a veritable literary vanguard in an ongoing
effort to vanquish such contemptible assaults on
humanity. In turn I hope to alert you, the dear
reader, as to what will be.
In 2004 I predict there will be warm sunny days set
against a buttery afternoon sky in which a father will
watch his son catch their first fish. I predict
flowers will smell sweeter this year, and a young girl
will catch her first butterfly. This year the scent of
fresh-cut hay will be carried on an aromatic breeze so
heavy with warm and nostalgic memories they'll need to
be pulled aside by a team of horses.
As it has done for a millennium snow will fall in
Pleasantville this coming year, and from it will
spring the laughter of children as snowmen bounce to
life while rust-worn sleigh-runners are polished like
new during madcap rides down snow packed hills. Ah
yes, a new year in Pleasantville, can you feel it? As
our hearts and hearths glow warm with hope eternal
even the coldest of souls must give way to the
inspiration of promise.
I
see a father this year will "find the time," and in
doing so he'll "remember" how important and loved he
felt when his father did likewise. I see spoons of
cake mix being sought by mommy's helpers while
mothers, as they have selflessly done for years,
prepare food for a family picnic.
I
predict a young father, while looking into his
newborn's eyes, will have an epiphany in which he'll
finally understand why he'd sometimes find his father
smiling at him with tear-streaked cheeks.
This year, as in years-gone-by, neighbors will
selflessly help those less fortune for no other reason
than to lighten someone's load, and in doing so
they'll discover how their parents found true richness
in life.
I
predict a young princess will hug a Knight in Shining
Armor for an act of uncommon love and sacrifice, and
despite possessing extraordinary valor her father will
not be able to stem his tears.?
I
predict a father's daughter, who's fought a historic
battle with depression will win her fight and will
live on as a heroine with an unprecedented drive to
help others.
I
predict a soldier will lower his unfired weapon from
an enemy target thinking only God and he will know. I
predict a man will say to a nurse, "No, it's okay,
I'll feed her - she's my mother." I predict a musician
will complete their song, a writer their book, a
mother her family, a man and woman each other, a puppy
a boy.
I
predict a gravely ill woman will turn her head from a
hospital bed to recognize her long departed husband
extending his hand from eternity to ask for hers one
final time.
Yes, next year will pretty much be like last, frogs
will still jump, birds will sing and bees will collect
honey as we come to understand the eternal bond of
humanity and love.
Lea McDonald copyright 2003
inventor @ adan.kingston.net
About Me:
I
am a weekly columnist for a local paper and an on-line
columnist for a news service. I typically write
stories framing the humanity I've found in moving to
the country, a place where the moral fabric of society
seems a little less tattered. After leaving the
corporate world as a manager of applications
development for an aerospace company, I moved to the
country, became a volunteer firefighter, returned to
an old trade (flooring installation), and as a father
of 3 boys, I have a full plate by times. Despite a
full schedule, I love to write true stories of what I
have found, sharing slices of life as it were. |
