Dog Days

…We look so bad as free speech has no control and the respect we learned is out the window.

From my back porch, the breeze filters around from the East. Storm clouds brew from out of the West.  I hear the thunder where lightning has been and the rain falls from the heavens above.  I watch the sun as it, majestically shines, knowing it won’t be long before the storm rolls in.  It’s not the weather I’ve come to love but the peace I feel from within my heart as I sit and enjoy my very first cup of coffee.  I thank God for another night of quiet; I wish the world could, for just one night, lie down in peace and let love govern.

Reminiscing the fifties, when we had more time, growing up was centered around the word ‘respect’. The world was a much happier place.  We didn’t know what was going on and the only internet was a Civic Association.  Things were simpler.  You could see the street when you opened your hood; chores came first before Mom made us go outside to play.  We stole the jokers from our parent’s bridge decks and clothespins off the line to make our bikes sound like motorcycles – until we got caught! Homework came first, you know, before TV.  We had to think and memorize without a laptop.

We learned to think and fend for ourselves as the war broke out.  The focus changed and cannons sounded like thunder as we never knew if there would be a tomorrow.  Our lives in turmoil, we ran away from home.

Those days do not matter anymore.  We look so bad as free speech has no control and the respect we learned is out the window.  We now fend for our own safety as there are some who would like to destroy the very origin of which we were taught.

Now, I sit on my little back porch, guarded by my flowers, and the scent of manicured lawns permeates the air.  The rain is about to take over.  The sun has now risen high above the thunder that reminds us all of tough times past.  I’m just so thankful to say, we made it, as we hold hands and pray for tomorrow.  Life is an awesome commodity as family scrapbooks share those wonderful moments in time, and, yearbooks from a high school that once existed too.

So, I hold on to life, as my friends and memories cross my thoughts.  I pray that some day our kids will feel the life we brought to them and I wonder if they, too, will remember…these dog days.

Author: Dana Bicks LLC, Author

What you are reading on my website is the result of a miracle from God. I am not a writer, though I am a messenger. God took a very dyslexic guy from Severna Park, Maryland, who never read or wrote a thing, and told me I was going to write messages to share with others. I do not have a degree, and English was my poorest subject. Trust me, it's only through God that I write. As you read, understand that we all have the ability to receive the gifts that Christ would like us to have, gifts from God. It happened to me, it can happen to you. Let God enter your soul and rule your spirit!

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