She awakened. Had it happened already? She peeked out from under the covers, pushing the disheveled greying hair from her face. The house was quiet, the village to east and the city to the north still at peace. She reached over and picked up her charging cell phone, the numbers big enough for unfocused eyes and not quite awake brain cells to read. It was 11:54. She hadn’t missed the execution.
She wandered down to the kitchen and got out a Coke which had been chilling for the occasion. Not that she should have caffeine at this hour, but it was the best celebratory drink she had. She took out a piece of her best stemware and placed it next to the bottle. A cat wandered in, thinking that if the mistress of the house was up that it surely meant there was going to be something other than dry kibble to nibble. She petted the cat and acquiesced, pouring a little cream for her friend before heading outside to await the signal that the death had occurred.
The night air was frigid and she wouldn’t stay outside any longer than she had to. Her coat was warm around her as she sat down and put her feet up in the two lawn chairs which were perpetually on her porch. She didn’t see any of her neighbors outside, but most had porches and patios which were out of her line of sight. But, they were likely anticipating the moment as well. It was 11:58.
As she waited the last two minutes, she thought about the significance of this death. It meant freedom for so many, including herself. So many things were wrong with this regime master, one who had held such promise in earlier days but turned vicious and almost tyrannical with time. Oh, some liked this beast, having done well under its rule, but most just wanted it gone. It was 11:59 and the countdown to the killing had begun.
She poured the soda into the goblet and listened, silently but happily ticking down the seconds with the rest. Suddenly, chaotic joy could be heard. Fireworks, church bells, horns blaring, people shouting. It was over. She raised her glass in a solo toast to the air. “Goodbye, 2013, you bastard,” she quietly said and took a drink of the effervescent liquid. She listened for a few more moments to the happiness in this midnight hour, then went back inside and headed back to bed.
Happy New Year, Everyone.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Final Words
“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”
-- Eleanor Roosevelt
I’d like to go on record, as I’ve noticed so many have, as saying that 2013 was not a good year. It took me down a path that I thought I’d never find myself on. It took away a lot of things and was unapologetic about it. The biggest things it took away was my sense of self-worth and self-confidence. However, while a lot of what happened this year was out of my hands, the biggest things the year took away I allowed and that never should have happened.
I wrote in an earlier blog entry here, now on another blog, the following words:
I remember being a force of nature, a force to be reckoned with. Someone who knew what needed to be done and could handle it. Someone who might not be remembered in song and story, but who would have left an imprint on this world nonetheless. Someone who could make a difference . . . I can sometimes make the world believe that the fire is still there. But in my heart, I know that I’d have to push away a lot of ash to get to even one tiny glowing ember that might still be there at the core of my being.
Definitely a low moment in my life. My morale hit its lowest point during this final month of this even less than average year, shaking me to the core of my being.
And for every action …
Wait – what was that? That was the sound of ashes being shaken off one tiny glowing ember. Yup, there’s still life in there.
I’d like to do my imitation of a phoenix, but I think the plumage is going to take a while to revitalize to phoenix-like greatness. Maybe later. For the time being, let’s just say that the fire has been re-stoked and the ember’s starting to glow brighter.
Happy New Year, everyone.
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