I stand here on the porch in the lowering gloom of dusk and I look upon my creations, pondering on what will become of them when I’m gone. I am the last of my generation. My children have passed, stricken before me by the cancer that now takes my air and presents me with fire in its stead. Fire like that which has recently vanished from the western sky, only blacker – poisoned.
I have one grandchild, too young to understand the ramblings of an old man. My notes and journals – they are part of my creations. They are dinosaurs awaiting an excavation that may never come to pass.
I close my eyes and wonder if they will ever again open. My eyelids are tugged by an uncontrollable weight. It’s all right though. My creations will linger here for me. They will see the light of another day, perhaps without the gentle touch of their creator.
Linda G. Hill 
That’s really depressing 😦
It happens. A lot.
But you’re back! That’s exciting! 😀
It is! But I’m thinking of making the whole mission work thing a little more long term.
So… you’re going back? To stay?
I am not 100% sure. I’m going to start with local inner city work, and I might just see where I’m led to from there. Might be there, could be anywhere. But I think I want to make it my life. Can write while doing it.
Just go with the flow as they say. It’ll certainly give you plenty of experiences to draw from when you write!
Yes! It would definitely be overwhelmingly amazing. But it’s scary to go out there and know that I wouldn’t have a safety net. That it could quite honestly be a few days without eating, and I might walk into a town that’s openly hostile. So we’ll see what happens 😛
That’s worrying. I’ll be waiting on tenterhooks to see what you do.
Also. Smile 😀 I hope things get better. Unless this is just the story here, then you know, awesome story.
Hey thanks! It is just a story, so… I’m good! 😀
It was beautiful. We all think about the ‘end of life’ scenario. This was honest.
Thank you, my dear. 🙂