It is good… to travel the veins and rivers of time. It is often times neglected as it is so easy to get caught up in the moment.

There are those who can try and relate to, even come close to understanding too, and even this is, it is… impossible but the possibility exists to try as for a human it is the human condition, especially when two or more humans are involved.

Words and more words. Endless sweat inducing formation of thoughts both primitive and intelligent. Both words work well together.

It is… inspiring. As it is often times so easy to get caught up in the moment, this moment, this very second of a beating heart. And so a story. Just another moment of the past/present/future.

***

In the memory there was a cabin. Warmth of hand-hewn timbers erected by a man, a father who currently was toiling at his job at a gristmill down at the powerful waters of the clear waters boiling down from the hills.

Sitting at the table chewing on fresh baked biscuits, the aroma of the food along with the smell of smoke and fire coming from the wood stove made the moment extremely comfortable.

On the floor, sister played with a handmade doll sewn with love and care. It was fun to tease her as she tried to talk sense to the doll. The hair on the doll was yellow yarn and the eyes were buttons. If one closed their eyes you could actually feel the doll come alive.

Mother was a thin women who was a mountain of strength. She kept the house alive. Her hands magical as she washed the clothes on a rough board, sewed the clothes, darned the socks, wiped the tears, shared the laughter, and loved her family more than her dreams.

Soon father would come home after a hard days work. He would kiss his wife, ruffle the hair on sisters head just to hear her squeal in mock distress before she returned to her play, and he would smile at me; asking, “so there young man, did you do your chores?”

Giving him the answer he wanted he then asked, “How did the fish bite today?”

Oh, my, even now the feeling is so real as the reply was, “They did good. Caught a good mess of them using the hoppers. Ma is going to cook them up for dinner.”

He was silent and his smile spoke volumes as he turned his attention to a pipe filled with a fresh cut of tobacco, the smell of it smoke mixing with the other smells. It is… was… will be… heaven.

Opening my eyes now, back into whatever reality this moment is, I can still smell the entire scene. And it is… good.