When I was a young man, I was a fool. It wasn’t my fault, I just didn’t know enough but I should have known better. My father tried to tell me. My mother tried to warn me. “How could they possibly know what I was feeling? How could they understand my life?” Those are the questions and doubts many young adults carry within them as they step onto their path. I was already so sure my decisions were infallible.

Little did I know. How very, very little.

I was in my early twenties and I couldn’t have picked a worse…

“The wind is never for the sailor who knows not to which port he is bound.”- Og Mandino

My feet are so small. I have to run fast all the way down the hall. I have to find Dad. I have to hurry. I have to be fast. I know Dad will have it. Dad always has what I need.

I can’t see! Why won’t my tears fall out of the way? I blink and blink but my eyes are blurry from the water.

Papa wants to go now. He said he would wait for me but I can’t waste…

I know this guy. A very close friend. I’ve known him since he was a baby, really one could say we couldn’t be any closer. He’s genuinely a really good guy. He’s funny, witty, quick, and clever. He’s generous to his friends and even strangers oftentimes. He’s a terrific father, and though he’s hard on himself, he’s a pretty decent husband. When obstacles arose, he overcame them. When troubles showed up, he worked through them. He has a seemingly bottomless well of patience and is almost annoyingly positive.

He’s great to work for and with. Very capable and has a…

A father and daughter’s camping trip brings new discoveries.

The truck was loaded full to the canopy roof and with a good shove on the tailgate the supplies for the camp were secured. He went back inside to gather his daughter, double-checking nothing was left behind and saying goodbye to his wife; the first camping trip of the season was on.

His daughter jumped into the front seat and arranged her sketchbook and pencils, buckled her seat belt, and selected the playlist for the drive into the mountains. Helping his old dog into the back seat, complete with his blanket…

Wednesday: Words are Spells, Thoughts are Intentions, and Actions are Rituals.

Once more the prompt is in line with my life circumstance.

My words cast a spell. My thoughts set the trap with intention, and my actions have been daily rituals of persistence.

This day it paid rewards.

If you have been reading my submissions then you would know I have been engaged in a battle with a corporation and different bureaucratic entities. The circumstances allowed my adversaries to drop me into a crack in the system. A place where the nuisance cases had no clear association to the black and white lettering of their laws.

Many people would submit to…

Shambles lay atop the sun-warmed freestone rocks of the dry river channel. Content to lounge lazily while his master flung line and pursued trout, he allowed the energy from the ancient stones to soothe his body, his ears twitching only occasionally at the calls of squirrels and the telltale splashes of Luke wading further along the river.

Three flies swapped out on his leader, cast with care and accuracy had still failed to show even a foolish trout’s interest. The river was quiet. The aquatic life was sleepy. Luke looked up at the partly overcast sky that had yet to…

The June prompts came in quick and my first week of the month was just a wild wind of activity. I couldn’t jump in. So now with week two on tap I’ve made time to begin these investigations again.

Starting with a combination of Monday/Tuesday.

Monday: Chaos is fertile soil for creativity

This is the perfect prompt. Timely and relevant for me. This past weekend I managed to make good on my promise to my daughter to take her camping. She loves camping as much as I do. We are truly kindred spirits out in the wild.

I had decided to make a trip to my hometown…

Since our youngest reading days, we have been struck deep by authors.

We started holding these fabricators of phenomenal fiction close to our hearts. In those years of our youth, our adolescent, pre-pubescent, then fully charged hormonal hurricanes, we had many different voices talking to us through the dark ink, direct conversations from their fingers to our souls. We had a lot going on in our lives. We needed someone to talk to, to listen to us, to understand our plight, to foster dreams, and nurture rebellion.

With felt like these authors were friends that inspired us silently, secretly, behind closed doors at home, giving us our first tastes to addiction, reading…