The Crossroads Of Jericho

Started working on fiction tentatively titled The Crossroads Of Jericho…

I can’t remember when Jericho wasn’t part of my life in one form or another though I know there is a definite mark in time we could point to.

It feels like I could put on some soft and mystical music to set the tone and talk about how one day she was there, one day she wasn’t and one day she was again.

Could tell you about the magic, the fire and the ice but I don’t know if you would get it or if I do. Hell, I am not sure if she does but I know we have journeyed to the crossroads together.

I know we have been to hell and back and even when we didn’t want to hold hands we somehow ended up with our fingers intertwined.

Even when we have been apart we inevitably go looking for each other. Some have asked if we have ever cut off contact and we have nodded our heads and said yes.

It was painful. It was hard and it felt final but something always happened.

Jericho told me long ago we were inextricably linked together and she was right. We know each other in every way people can and we never get tired of learning more, even if we sometimes shake our heads and wonder what the hell the other could be thinking.

The Lady Jericho

The Lady Jericho once asked me if I stared at all women with the same intensity and I shook my head no.

“Just you.”

She couldn’t decide whether it was a line or if it was true but she grew accustomed the look and found a certain appreciation for how well I understood and appreciated things about her.

During one of the winters in which we didn’t communicate it was this understanding that enabled me to find a way to tear down the walls she built and to convince her it was time to speak in person.

I remember the conversation and we tried to find ways to stare at the other without being obvious.

The long looks in which we tried to evaluate what time had done and to figure out if the electricity was only the rattle of a ghost long departed or something else.

We found the answer indirectly in a series of accidental touches and interactions which would have felt overly intimate and intrusive to others, even those who had shared intimacy.

I didn’t ask her what she did or not think or feel because I saw it. She didn’t invite more nor push away so I kept my own cards close to the vest and let her wonder if I really would say no.

Especially since I was certain circumstances would make it clear that we would explore the question in great detail.

That last part made me snort, because it was the kind of specific non specific remark that would make her crazy.

There were no details but all the details she needed to know in such a phrase and I was happy to make her work for the answers if she really wanted to know.

She did.

The Texas Sunset

Los Angeles had some great sunsets and I have more than a few burnt in my memory but the Texas sunset is no slouch.

There have been more than a few here that have made me stop and stare off into the west and think about possibility and opportunity.

Been more than a few that just stopped me in my tracks and left me staring with a smile on my face.

The cemetery Dad is buried at is nestled in the hills of the Santa Susana Pass and much of it is constructed of Jerusalem stone.

Though I have been to at least 50 funerals I do not claim to be an expert on cemeteries but I know enough to know dad rests in a place that is beautiful.

It too has spectacular sunsets and maybe it calms my heart to be in a place that reminds me of the camp I spent years at, Jerusalem and some other places.

I never wonder or worry whether my feeling and sense of things could be measured and verified accurate because it doesn’t have to be based upon fact.

If anything feeling is more important as cemeteries aren’t places where you need to engage in bouts of math and science, though you certainly could if it nourishes your heart and soul.

Some people have asked me to share my thoughts on whether I believe there is an afterlife and have suggested if I don’t believe than cremation might be a better option.

I have always told them I don’t believe in it for a host of reasons not the least of which I won’t do what Hitler did to us, don’t care if they think it logical or not.

But I believe there is merit to having a place to visit my father even if I can’t or don’t go with regularity.

A quiet place where I can spend whatever time with him feels appropriate.