The Bettermost Drabblefest: Please Join In!

[mariez]

.  .  .
"See there....gonna be fine.." Placing Ennis's open palm on his knee. "Let me get a band aid on that...gonna be fine...." Jack carefully wraps Ennis's finger." Think  maybe I should do all the rest of the cooking on this trip... just sit back and....
.  .  .

Aww, Mark this is so sweet and funny . . . and how perfect is that picture! 

.  .  .
 Ennis was all he could think about – where he was, what he was doing, who he was doing it with …
.  .  .

God, this is wrenching - aww . . . Jack.    

.  . .
The next night, at around the same time, Ennis got into his truck and drove to that house again…..….
.  .  .

Marl, Ennis's loneliness is so palpable - wonderful writing.  (You're gonna leave me hanging overnight - again?   )

Thanks, all and Bonsoir!

Marie

[Cameron]

Mark and M,
Awesome drabbles, as usual.  Gosh M, poor Jack!

Thank You so Much, M and Marie, maybe the artist will be back real soon.

Bonsoir from me too (I had to look that up  )
Thanks again,

Marl

[TH]

>>I called it "Ennis Del Mar: Ranchhand", to distinguish it from the tale which I called "Ennis Del Mar: A Man of God," from the last line in that story. Do you have a different name for yours? 

   I hadn't got as far as titles because of the way they came.  The process being that bits, like drabbles, vignettes, would come one at a time... as if they were given...  I like your titles...  Good...  -smile

>>Yours is great tale.  A touch of mysticism, brought into the everyday life of Ennis and the others.  Ghosts and spirits. Greg simply making himself part of Ennis' life, and Ennis being the better for it. Ennis can miss Jack now.  But, has he ever seen Jack in the distance, or close up, like  the foreman has seen his father?

   I had thought about the question of the foreman's father showing up and whether Jack would. 

   It seems to me that the father had to appear in order to be substantial enough to his son to override the trauma that was present for the boy when his father died.  Notice that with the one noteable exception... he always did so at a distance.  The exception was to make amends and to give the boy the freedom to choose for himself.  I think this is part of the dynamic of child-parent especially with the tension of expectation.  It is difficult for a child to outlive the expectation of a parent whether they accept the expectation or fight it.  Being overly close would not allow the boy to 'own' the place as ~his~ dream.  As they say in the recovery community... "a death ends a life, it does not end a relationship".

   With Jack, however, it seems different to me.  How many widows or widowers long for the physical presence of their lost partner?  If a loved one was to return from the spirit world but with all the characteristics of a person in the physical sense... how would that happen... how would one 'do' that? 

   Also,... when someone is present in spirit... it is possible to be closer than they ever were able when they were in body.  Perhaps with time and a great deal of grace... one could learn to relate to a situation like that.  I think of the movie "Truly, Madly, Deeply" which tried to explore that... and I think of some of the writings of the mystics which talk in terms of spiritual marriage... but I have only limited experience there... and am not sure how that would work... 

   One thing.  In the story Greg and the foreman, as well as those at the ranch were brought into Ennis' life to place him in an authentic, effective community.  Perhaps with getting some of those needs met... Ennis' longing for Jack would be dampened down to the point where the spirit to spirit relationship with Jack could come into its own... 

Thanks for your comments... sorry for taking so long to get back..

[MaineWriter]

For today, let's try these:

• angel
• healing
• wrist

Leslie

[Lumière]

Okay, I'll go first .. 

Here's an adaptation of a poem I wrote a while back ..

My son..

I watched you grow with each passing day
A little boy maturing into a dashing young man.
Words fail me, but this much I must say:
You bring me more joy than you’ll ever know;
You are my angel, my eternal gift, my son ..

You never said, but I did guess
I watched and hoped and prayed
That you'd see that I could love you no less;
Come storm or calm, come winter or spring.
You are the light within me, my son ..

Now you are gone and I am left alone
My heart laden with despair, anger, sorrow
Every anguish you suffered, I wish I could own
Every sickness, every pain, I wish I could heal
You are my true pride, my son ..

One look into his eyes, and I knew
That those two shirts would find home at last
With him, the man whose words are but a few ..
He loves you; who wouldn’t?
I loved you, still do, my little boy, my son ..

[Cameron]

Going Back

(June 2003)
Ennis went back the next night.  He drove in the dead of night and stopped the truck across from the artist’s house. The artist was again outside.  He was near the thing that looked like a mountain.  He was wearing white.  Ennis stared at him.  With his light hair and his pale eyes, glowing even at a distance, the artist looked almost like an angel.

Ennis walked over and sat down on a wooden box right next to him.  The artist turned and looked at him, but then he kept right on working.  Ennis sat there watching him.

After a while the artist turned back to him. “You want to give me a hand?”

Ennis stood up and the artist led him to a new figure, a woman this time, not far from the others.  He took some metal, gave Ennis a hammer and some nails, and without saying a word showed Ennis that this one needed wrists and hands on her unfinished arms.

Ennis hammered and bended and drilled the old metal.  He was still thin and strong.  When he was finished with the hands, the artist motioned him to come over.  Then Ennis began working on another mountain right next to the first one.

After a long time, when the light was beginning to appear in the sky the artist walked over to Ennis and stood right next to him.  He looked at him and said “I want you to come inside.”

Ennis was still confused.  He still didn’t if he was awake or dreaming.  But it didn’t matter to him now.  The work was strangely healing.

Ennis followed the artist inside.  The little house was unlike anything he had ever seen before.  There were pictures, paintings, metal animals, old things and broken things all around.  But somehow everything still looked neat and tidy.  The artist led Ennis into the kitchen.  The walls were red and the table was black. The appliances were painted all different colors.  Ennis's eyes were wide open.  He had never seen anything like this place at all.

“I have something for you, why don’t you sit down?” the artist said, pulling out a black and red painted chair.  Ennis looked at him.  The artist’s eyes were so pale, they almost looked like no eyes at all.  Ennis hesitated, but the artist gently took his arm and helped him into the seat.

Ennis sat down, but his eyes were still fixed on the artist. 

The artist walked over to a little black cabinet by the painted refrigerator.  He opened up a drawer.  He took something out and went back to Ennis, still watching him from the table.

“This is for you” the artist said……..

[Lumière]

Going Back

(June 2003)

And the suspense continues .. 
Cheers Marl!

[mariez]

My son..

I watched you grow with each passing day
A little boy maturing into a dashing young man.
Words fail me, but this much I must say:
You bring me more joy than you’ll ever know;
You are my angel, my eternal gift, my son ..

You never said, but I did guess
I watched and hoped and prayed
That you'd see that I could love you no less;
Come storm or calm, come winter or spring.
You are the light within me, my son ..

Now you are gone and I am left alone
My heart laden with despair, anger, sorrow
Every anguish you suffered, I wish I could own
Every sickness, every pain, I wish I could heal
You are my true pride, my son ..

One look into his eyes, and I knew
That those two shirts would find home at last
With him, the man whose words are but a few ..
He loves you; who wouldn’t?
I loved you, still do, my little boy, my son ..

Good God, Milli - that's one of the most achingly beautiful poems I've ever read.  Thanks for so often reminding us of the others that loved Jack - and of the different kinds of love.

.  .  .
“This is for you” the artist said……..

Well, you sure have me hooked, Marl!  I love my mind's picture of the artist's house.

Thanks,
Marie

[Lumière]

Good God, Milli - that's one of the most achingly beautiful poems I've ever read.  Thanks for so often reminding us of the others that loved Jack - and of the different kinds of love.

Aww..thanks Marie! 

~M

[Cameron]

He’d never seen an angel, reckoned he never would, the kind of man he was. Did angels wear blue sweaters?

“You are welcome to go up to his room, if you want.”

Did angels wrap precious items in paper bags? The delicate touch of her hands belied the strength flowing through those wrists. Careworn skin caressed with a butterfly’s touch, healing flowed out of them.

“You come back and see us again.”

What a perfect drabble, Thank You


M, I agree with Marie,  Beautiful poem and picture too!


M and Marie, Thank you both again, You know how much I do appreciate it.  There will be more artist coming, but maybe I will just keep you in suspense for a while.........
(or maybe not )

Marl