tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26584700418832777532024-03-13T02:14:04.764-07:00Past and PresentWelcome to Story time, pull up a chair and join us. Would you like milk and sugar in your tea?Past and Presenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336806055365060300noreply@blogger.comBlogger180125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658470041883277753.post-33538286855014370992015-02-20T15:28:00.002-08:002015-02-20T15:28:45.225-08:00Did I Forget You?Sitting on a sand dune a million miles away.<br />
Watching my grandsons sand boarding the dunes (finally)<br />
Running the soft sand through my fingers.<br />
My thoughts turned to you<br />
Knowing this is where your heart still lies<br />
even after all this time<br />
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How I wished to share with you <br />
a picture of this spectacular view<br />
Everywhere we went I could not help <br />
thinking you would have loved it.<br />
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There was no message from you in my post box this year.<br />
Not even enjoy the holiday<br />
I miss you just a little bit<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-mnvj-gyyLejdiSMiWYTHBuI63uoPpvMml_dJBWR1J6-WTRnrdoCtbvycRa4mtVuVWWRfhIhw755wZ3xNYZ0a5VkrAEk6T-l2N2mkj1nafjybccB_NKe07sBTQoXLMmthTq62ZR4l-n8/s1600/DSCN2950.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-mnvj-gyyLejdiSMiWYTHBuI63uoPpvMml_dJBWR1J6-WTRnrdoCtbvycRa4mtVuVWWRfhIhw755wZ3xNYZ0a5VkrAEk6T-l2N2mkj1nafjybccB_NKe07sBTQoXLMmthTq62ZR4l-n8/s1600/DSCN2950.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Until next time we meet again,
Thanks for visiting
Rina</div>Past and Presenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336806055365060300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658470041883277753.post-28301216095058948032013-06-07T23:23:00.001-07:002013-06-07T23:23:32.864-07:00<span class="userContent">"Spend all your time waiting for that second chance <br /> For the break that will make it ok <br /> There's always some reason to feel "not good enough"? <br /> And it's hard at the end of the day <br /> I need some distraction, oh beautiful release <br /> Memories seep from my veins <br /> They may be empty and weightless, and maybe <br /> I'll find some peace tonight <br /><br /> In the arms of an Angel, fly away from here <br /> From this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear <br /> You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie <br /> You're in the arms of an Angel; may you find some comfort here <br /><br /> So tired of the straight line, and everywhere you turn <br /> There's vultures and thieves at your back <br /> The storm keeps on twisting, you keep on building the lies <br /> That you make up for all that you lack <br /> It don't make no difference, escaping one last time <br /> It's easier to believe <br /> In this sweet madness, oh this glorious sadness <br /> That brings me to my knees <br /><br /> In the arms of an Angel, far away from here <br /> From this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear <br /> You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie <br /> In the arms of an Angel; may you find some comfort here..."</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">Until next time we meet again,
Thanks for visiting
Rina</div>Past and Presenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336806055365060300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658470041883277753.post-23027737250679138522013-04-22T03:26:00.002-07:002013-04-22T03:26:22.881-07:00Why do I feel like I could just runaway, the pressure is just to much, too much stuff happening. All I ask for is peace, <div class="blogger-post-footer">Until next time we meet again,
Thanks for visiting
Rina</div>Past and Presenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336806055365060300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658470041883277753.post-54500258459350208162013-03-07T17:24:00.003-08:002013-03-07T17:24:22.326-08:00Stand By Me ...<iframe frameborder="0" height="352" src="http://www.facebook.com/video/embed?video_id=1276623088715" width="640"></iframe><br />
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Wonderful old song ...<div class="blogger-post-footer">Until next time we meet again,
Thanks for visiting
Rina</div>Past and Presenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336806055365060300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658470041883277753.post-30859600898772307732013-02-27T16:38:00.002-08:002013-02-27T16:38:12.618-08:00<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiozM0jNO8VHYep4h1J0z5Ue2dtHuQNI4VAP0qPFvuNyQG6pZ2G7ESR7pShIMRLbYSJxOJPHfESUGXtAGPYLUTd4R4KfBR23HiOnnQ-BdgCSD2CWiduz4Gkvnm6m4fPCO6WHRexbRSv5xU/s1600/601421_537021046318022_1938181375_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" ea="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiozM0jNO8VHYep4h1J0z5Ue2dtHuQNI4VAP0qPFvuNyQG6pZ2G7ESR7pShIMRLbYSJxOJPHfESUGXtAGPYLUTd4R4KfBR23HiOnnQ-BdgCSD2CWiduz4Gkvnm6m4fPCO6WHRexbRSv5xU/s320/601421_537021046318022_1938181375_n.jpg" width="213" /></a><a href="http://youtu.be/UAYJgTdZRw0">http://youtu.be/UAYJgTdZRw0</a></div>
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Sometimes songs can provoke gut wrenching feelings and this is one for me. Why did I not just accept things as they were, why did I have to open my big mouth</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Until next time we meet again,
Thanks for visiting
Rina</div>Past and Presenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336806055365060300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658470041883277753.post-80538797397082671782013-02-27T16:05:00.001-08:002013-02-27T16:19:55.751-08:00A Mother's Pain ... in Honour of Sebastion ... Tiny Angel<br />
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<span class="userContent">Sweet Child SEBASTIAN<br />God made a sweet child<br />a child who never grew old<br />He made a smile of sunshine<br />He molded a heart of pure gold.<br />He made that child as close to an angel<br />as anyone ever could be<br />God made a Sweet Child<br />and He gave that dear child to me<br />Then God saw His wonderful creation<br /><span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><span class="text_exposed_show"> growing very tired and weak<br />so He wrapped the child in His loving arms<br />and said, "You my child I keep"<br />But now my Sweet Child is an angel<br />Free from hurt and pain<br />I'll love you forever, until we meet again<br />So many times I have missed you<br />So many times I have cried<br />If all my love could have saved you<br />Sweet Child you never would have died.</span></span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Until next time we meet again,
Thanks for visiting
Rina</div>Past and Presenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336806055365060300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658470041883277753.post-86518186714139295652013-02-05T16:28:00.001-08:002013-02-05T16:28:20.578-08:00Nou so lekker gelag ...Arm, Armer, Moer-arm <br />
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Ons was moer-arm.Agt kinders. Daai tyd was ek in Std 2 en moes ons van daai glas bottelkies gom met die rooi proppie en rooi kwassie hê vir skool.My ma het amper flou geval toe ek haar vra vir gom.“Waar dink hulle moet ons die geld vandaan kry?”Maar natuurlik – Boere maak ‘n plan.En ma was nie stupid nie.Sy kon tot gom maak.Ruk daar flour uit,gooi suiker by en kook die spul op die stoof.Ek staan eenkant,baie impressed met my slim ma.Laat dit toe effens afkoel en sit dit in ‘n ou NCR Yeast blikkie wat so bietjie verblyk was.Ek was die enigste kind met ‘n Yeast Blikkie op my tafel.Al die ander kinders het die regte bottelkies gom gehad.Ek het nie baie omgegee nie,want my gom was baie beter as hulle sin en het geplak soos superglue nie kan plak nie!So drie weke later,te...rwyl die biesies buite bewe van die hitte,sit ons klas in doodse stilte,besig met eksamen.Fokkit mense,een moerse ontploffing ruk die hele skool tot aandag.Daar trek my donnerse blikkie se deksel en hy agterna tot teenaan die sielieng.Dis net gom wat neerkom op ons soos ‘n donnerstorm!All es is wit.En dit stink ongelooflik – suurhol se moses!Ek’t nog nooit iets in my hele lewe geruik wat so gestink het nie.Die Juffrou se brille is vol gom.Haar hare spierwit.Dit drup van haar af asof sy in ‘n shower staan.Tot n haar kliewitch by haar tieties.Ek kon nie glo dat sy soos ‘n beeld lyk nie.Oral waar ek kyk in die klas is almal faaktap van die gom.Almal is wit en gil van die skrik.Ons boeke is faaktap.Ons klere is faaktap.Ons stink faaktap.Juffrou wip toe haar gat en jaag ons almal uit en sê ons kan maar huis toe gaan.Van die kinders wat bus gery het se gom het goed droog geword van al die gewag.Ek was woedend toe ek by die huis kom.My ma het gedink dis ‘n moerse grap en het haar dinges amper geskeur van die lag toe sy my sien EN ruik …Die klaskamer moes uitgeverf word om van die suurholreuk ontslae te raak,maar ons kon dit nog vir weke dwarsdeur daai PVA ruik.Ek was glad nie gewild nie.Niemand wou eers meer met my speel nie …<br />
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Dis nou wat gebeur as jy Moer-arm is!<div class="blogger-post-footer">Until next time we meet again,
Thanks for visiting
Rina</div>Past and Presenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336806055365060300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658470041883277753.post-35082870443932705482013-01-23T02:11:00.003-08:002013-01-23T02:11:31.086-08:00╰ღ╮❤╭ღ╯<br />
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A woman is the calm of a hurricane's eye</div>
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where a man finds tranquility</div>
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as the storm passes by</div>
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... A woman is the softness inside the shell</div>
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when the shell is bombarded</div>
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by man's creation of hell</div>
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A woman is the pillar of a temple foundation</div>
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where a man comes and goes</div>
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with renewed inspirations</div>
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A woman is the cloud that carries the rain</div>
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giving life to man's soul</div>
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parched from anxieties and pain</div>
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A woman is the bank of the river flows</div>
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helping man's direction</div>
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by being the woman she knows</div>
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A woman is the sound of a Lark's song in the morning</div>
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when mist covers life</div>
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and man feels forlorn</div>
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A woman is the emotions</div>
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shared with a man</div>
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the climax of giving</div>
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by the touch of a hand</div>
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A woman is the flesh that holds the seed</div>
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the miracle of birth</div>
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fullfilling human need</div>
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A woman is the mother of a new generation</div>
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a man is the direction</div>
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of that aspirationSee more</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Until next time we meet again,
Thanks for visiting
Rina</div>Past and Presenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336806055365060300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658470041883277753.post-58566564664492689282013-01-08T16:13:00.000-08:002013-01-09T02:08:35.293-08:00Tears fall like Diamonds ...<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
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<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/G0xoPTp5k7A" width="560"></iframe><br />
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Tears fall like diamonds<br />
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a tear rolls down my cheek<br />
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after reading your letters<br />
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was it just yesterday<br />
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cupid shot his arrow<br />
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you made me smile<br />
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you made life worth while <br />
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but now you're gone<br />
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you said you don't care<br />
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but it hurts still<br />
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how do I switch off that button<br />
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when I still care<br />
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~~~ Rina de Lange<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">Until next time we meet again,
Thanks for visiting
Rina</div>Past and Presenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336806055365060300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658470041883277753.post-7229494034069709942013-01-06T19:11:00.004-08:002013-01-06T19:14:21.083-08:002013 gaan 'n Grand Jaar wees ...Ek dink die son het alby van ons twee aangetas met die plaas werkery die vakansie, mense sig maar dit was warm. George het dak opgesit oor die slaap kamer en klein stoepie agter. Ons bou mos so stuk stuk aan Rose cottage. twee weke se harde werk en ons was reg om vir 'n week te kom rus by die huis. ... gaan loer na al die werk wat ons verrig het <a href="http://www.pumpkinpatchgarden.blogspot.com/">hier</a> en nou is ons al amper weer op pad om nog te gaan werk. Soos hul se niemand gaan dit vir jou doen nie behalwe julself. ag en dan is dit sommer reg die eerste keer.<br />
<br />
Voorspoedige Nuwe Jaar vir Almal xxx<br />
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">Until next time we meet again,
Thanks for visiting
Rina</div>Past and Presenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336806055365060300noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658470041883277753.post-64068014624625968522012-11-25T16:05:00.002-08:002012-11-25T16:05:40.455-08:001 plus 1 equals 3
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgISEZUExg01oQW-8LUPtgRNOog6k2Hp13lU0Ytd2JfRyO7GvRu3YlwMGAfP7ujPt-3zrvGBut9Kt-aQKp-LezxYL1-zKF04JRBQ80AQTEC4kHFmzW9VGiBsOqDjA4HirmTlWVrkwr1HAs/s1600/21751_428544953866165_1540615977_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="242" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgISEZUExg01oQW-8LUPtgRNOog6k2Hp13lU0Ytd2JfRyO7GvRu3YlwMGAfP7ujPt-3zrvGBut9Kt-aQKp-LezxYL1-zKF04JRBQ80AQTEC4kHFmzW9VGiBsOqDjA4HirmTlWVrkwr1HAs/s400/21751_428544953866165_1540615977_n.jpg" /></a></div>
Heard those words before, Mom you're going to be a Grandma, special words. So see 1 + 1 = 3, nothing wrong with my maths. Exciting time for the new family, expecting Mom and Dad and older stepbrother Luke. Mom's been having a good pregnancy so far, bub being her first baby, went for an ultrasound on friday. While baby was on her tummy and was not helping to prove she could just be a little boy. So for the meantime we believe it could be a girl. <div class="blogger-post-footer">Until next time we meet again,
Thanks for visiting
Rina</div>Past and Presenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336806055365060300noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658470041883277753.post-43524802489083746152012-11-18T15:36:00.000-08:002012-11-18T15:39:36.378-08:00Solovlug....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMp7S0_yn8AiapfLMXF8wATkcpDjzF_abOjlOfpOBZHeImtG-G0CDKyo5OJLl6T5u8ae_mdKmsak4RDnFWjvhV2dwQriUu4J7N5b3AGivslq3lbyE4MEzjmqWMfQ4l9YqXo-wmQErbQwI/s1600/387099_4190637920812_2004699496_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMp7S0_yn8AiapfLMXF8wATkcpDjzF_abOjlOfpOBZHeImtG-G0CDKyo5OJLl6T5u8ae_mdKmsak4RDnFWjvhV2dwQriUu4J7N5b3AGivslq3lbyE4MEzjmqWMfQ4l9YqXo-wmQErbQwI/s400/387099_4190637920812_2004699496_n.jpg" /></a></div>
dis verby.
~~~
van die begin, en eerste soen,
tot elke skyfie lemoen,
was daar gedink, en geglo,
...die liefde reën van bo.
~~~
die strandloop, en rooiaas soek,
en duin op, en koes,
het sandkorrels seker gepraat,
maar is daar min verstaan.
~~~
haarslierte windverwaai in mis.
versier haar ovaalgesig.
asemhaling-kringe dwarrel.
en help voete vorentoe skarrel.
~~~
elke roosblaar getuig van glorie.
blaaie geplak in ‘n storie,
geelgoud-boek leef nie meer,
lê op sy sy omgekeer.
~~~
Lettie MurraySOLOVLUG
25 August .
[aletta murray, 24aug2012]<div class="blogger-post-footer">Until next time we meet again,
Thanks for visiting
Rina</div>Past and Presenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336806055365060300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658470041883277753.post-29624147869454471652012-11-10T13:59:00.001-08:002012-11-10T13:59:15.883-08:00Poppy Day ...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoVD4hnMES3tDVsZl87i0qvhEaMs4UOfLEqmk35rVgRChx5cPHwLRs6mEyzqGhuKOosOsJcYHqQMu1hraMa-Nk2FHhgxRVSbelm_aGCratJKozuKNSiZ2dKf2W3jireRso_q1THpyhrEM/s1600/Poppy+Seeds.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 246px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoVD4hnMES3tDVsZl87i0qvhEaMs4UOfLEqmk35rVgRChx5cPHwLRs6mEyzqGhuKOosOsJcYHqQMu1hraMa-Nk2FHhgxRVSbelm_aGCratJKozuKNSiZ2dKf2W3jireRso_q1THpyhrEM/s400/Poppy+Seeds.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680521915920493474" /></a>
<br />Why Wear A Poppy
<br />
<br />"Please wear a poppy", the lady said
<br />And held one forth, but I shook my head.
<br />Then I stopped and watched as she offered them there,
<br />And her face was old and lined with care;
<br />But beneath the scars the years had made
<br />There remained a smile that refused to fade.
<br />
<br />A boy came whistling down the street
<br />Bouncing along on care-free feet
<br />His smile was full of joy and fun,
<br />"Lady", said he, "May I have one?"
<br />When she's pinned it on he turned to say,
<br />"Why do we wear a poppy today?"
<br />
<br />The lady smiled in her wistful way
<br />And answered, "This is Remembrance Day,
<br />And the poppy there is the symbol for
<br />The gallant men and women who died in war,
<br />And because they did, you and I are free -
<br />That's why we wear a poppy, you see".
<br />
<br />"I had a boy about your size,
<br />With golden hair and big blue eyes,
<br />He loved to play and jump and shout,
<br />Free as a bird he would race about.
<br />As the years went by he learned and grew
<br />And became a man - as you will, too."
<br />
<br />"He was fine and strong, with a boyish smile,
<br />But he'd seemed with us such a little while
<br />When war broke out and he went away.
<br />I still remember his face that day
<br />When he smiled at me and said "Good-bye,
<br />I'll soon be back, Mum, so please don't cry".
<br />
<br />"But the war went on and he had to stay,
<br />And all I could do was wait and pray.
<br />His letters told of the awful fight,
<br />(I can see it still in my dreams at night),
<br />With the tanks and guns and cruel barbed wire,
<br />And the mines and bullets, the bombs and fire".
<br />
<br />"Till at last, the war was won -
<br />And that's why we wear a poppy, son".
<br />
<br />The small boy turned as if to go,
<br />Then said "Thanks, lady, I'm glad to know.
<br />That sure did sound like an awful fight,
<br />But your son - did he come back all right?
<br />
<br />A tear rolled down each faded cheek;
<br />She shook her head, but didn't speak
<br />I slunk away in a sort of shame,
<br />And if you were me, you'd have done the same;
<br />For our thanks, in giving, is oft delayed,
<br />Though our freedom was bought - and thousands paid.
<br />
<br />And so when we see a poppy worn,
<br />Let us reflect on the burden borne
<br />By those who gave their very all
<br />And asked to answer their country's call
<br />
<br />That we at home in peace might live.
<br />Then wear a poppy, Remember - and Give!
<br />Lest we forget....
<br />
<br />Author Unknown
<br />Vintage Amehstit
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">Until next time we meet again,
Thanks for visiting
Rina</div>Past and Presenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336806055365060300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658470041883277753.post-33798753822560612752012-11-09T03:11:00.000-08:002012-11-09T03:11:24.022-08:00Tears in Heaven ...<a href="http://youtu.be/0-VnJkRvam8">http://youtu.be/0-VnJkRvam8</a><div class="blogger-post-footer">Until next time we meet again,
Thanks for visiting
Rina</div>Past and Presenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336806055365060300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658470041883277753.post-14228340966494774612012-11-06T11:58:00.002-08:002012-11-06T11:58:33.336-08:00By my Ma geleer ... ou se goedBy my ma my geleer het........
Ma het my geleer hoe om te bid:
"Jy moet bid dat daardie kol op die mat uit is as ek vanaand by die huis kom"
...Sy het my geleer van "time travel":
"Ek sal jou tot in volgende week in klap!"
Sy het my geleer pa's is slimmer en ryker as ma's:
"Gaan vra jou pa!"
Sy het my geleer oor plantkunde:
"Lyk dit vir jou of geld op my rug groei?"
Sy het my geleer om altyd nederig en klein te wees:
"Mannetjie !!!"
Sy het my van die weer geleer:
"Dit lyk of 'n dekselse orkaan jou kamer getref het!"
Sy het my geleer van fauna en flora:
"Moenie vir my vertel perredrolle is vye nie!"
Sy het my geleer om myself te ontdek:
"Hou op om jou soos jou pa te gedra!"
Sy het my die wetenskap van osmose geleer:
"Hou jou mond en eet jou kos!"
Sy het my geleer van uithouvermoë:
"Jy sal by daardie tafel sit totdat jy jou spinasie opgeëet het!"
Sy het my geleer van sintuie:
"Kinners word gesien en nie gehoor nie!"
Sy het my geleer van humor:
"Hou aan lag, dan gee ek jou iets om oor te huil ook!"
Sy het my van jaloesie geleer:
"Daar is duisende arm kinnertjies wat ouers soos joune begeer!"
Sy het geleer dat daar 'n plek en 'n tyd vir alles is:
"As julle mekaar wil vermoor, gaan doen dit buite! Ek't nou net hier
skoongemaak!"
Sy het my wiskunde geleer:
"Sit jy alweer en tanne tel!"
Sy het my logika geleer:
"Want ek sê so, dis hoekom!"
Sy het my geleer dat wonderwerke nog kan gebeur:
"Ek sal jou klap dat jy jou antie vir 'n eendvoël aansien as jy my weer terugantwoord!"<div class="blogger-post-footer">Until next time we meet again,
Thanks for visiting
Rina</div>Past and Presenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336806055365060300noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658470041883277753.post-6666059884675312082012-10-23T19:36:00.001-07:002012-10-23T19:38:46.122-07:00To old for Trick & Treating ...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSDltMOTU2SDB2c6LO77aLwDl1habEzAKkyxCfZRmRRxfhbh-a2gLZ6Pxt5HIxPAyjrq6Wxe8dktu6NKea2aE7_fwKC8aP-dhs28oRBeBnzXLGOHhWOWttIlGFSuAdxXOwY1DEnUVOluI/s1600/304393_452835304755812_2015982136_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="343" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSDltMOTU2SDB2c6LO77aLwDl1habEzAKkyxCfZRmRRxfhbh-a2gLZ6Pxt5HIxPAyjrq6Wxe8dktu6NKea2aE7_fwKC8aP-dhs28oRBeBnzXLGOHhWOWttIlGFSuAdxXOwY1DEnUVOluI/s400/304393_452835304755812_2015982136_n.jpg" /></a></div>
Top 10 Signs You Might Be Too Old to Trick or Treat
<br />10. You get winded from knocking on the door.
<br />9. You have to have a kid chew the candy for you.
<br />8. You ask for high fiber candy only.
<br />7. When someone drops a candybar in your bag, you lose you balance and fall over.
<br />6. People say, "Great Boris Karloff mask," and you're not wearing a mask.
<br />5. When the door opens, you yell, "Trick or... ," and can't remember the rest.
<br />4. By the end of the night, you have a bag full of restraining orders.
<br />3. You have to carefully choose a costume that won't dislodge your hairpiece.
<br />2. You're the only Power Ranger in the neighborhood with a walker.
<br />And the number one reason Seniors should not go trick or treating:
<br />
<br />1. You keep having to go home to pee.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Until next time we meet again,
Thanks for visiting
Rina</div>Past and Presenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336806055365060300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658470041883277753.post-73734515588809895602012-10-11T14:35:00.003-07:002012-10-11T15:09:18.024-07:00<iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/6nq-X70DRrA" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
Hayley you are an angel sent from up above
remember to switch off the mixpod on the right before listen to this beautiful song enjoy.
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Until next time we meet again,
Thanks for visiting
Rina</div>Past and Presenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336806055365060300noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658470041883277753.post-13114315823264510522012-10-06T13:47:00.001-07:002012-10-06T13:47:27.380-07:00Broken Angel ...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5KNSIcLIV6kG9oPE10noEEi0URUV8X3MPp9DNnSDTr8L0hDae1Viry3cxYje6EKJ3kUDtFpeSAvrYYAcuUTnnghOfmTxu80dEj9xVFKS2e267iXS4LkpenDWH4fMYp5fMvgzAQ0GYtdU/s1600/179564_214676835317460_183215495130261_375561_1687023155_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="213" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5KNSIcLIV6kG9oPE10noEEi0URUV8X3MPp9DNnSDTr8L0hDae1Viry3cxYje6EKJ3kUDtFpeSAvrYYAcuUTnnghOfmTxu80dEj9xVFKS2e267iXS4LkpenDWH4fMYp5fMvgzAQ0GYtdU/s400/179564_214676835317460_183215495130261_375561_1687023155_n.jpg" /></a></div>
Broken angel
“You may not be her first, her last, or her only. She loved before she may love again. But if she loves you now, what else matters? She's not perfect - you aren't either, and the two of you may never be perfect together but if she can make you laugh, cause you to think twice, and admit to being human and making mistakes, hold onto her and give her the most you can.
She may not be thinking about you every second of the day, but she will give you a part of her that she knows you can break - her heart. So don't hurt her, don't change her, don't analyze and don't expect more than she can give. Smile when she makes you happy, let her know when she makes you mad, and miss her when she's not there.”
~ Bob Marley
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Until next time we meet again,
Thanks for visiting
Rina</div>Past and Presenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336806055365060300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658470041883277753.post-66300272005596083252012-10-01T16:48:00.002-07:002012-10-01T16:48:35.739-07:00Sometimes ...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi06sp_cXzjboX7zimeC1WI30ZZmmY5CipFEUyczC7nGe9OmhiZPxfiQLXf2Lz4zX-cpuHi8mLcVsdUTBt0u1v6URN-ZheIUudtZVlZtLrbhJxKKetEeMk2IS5FrFLSwcKFQxRlBKeecY0/s1600/217993_215511318574409_420634458_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi06sp_cXzjboX7zimeC1WI30ZZmmY5CipFEUyczC7nGe9OmhiZPxfiQLXf2Lz4zX-cpuHi8mLcVsdUTBt0u1v6URN-ZheIUudtZVlZtLrbhJxKKetEeMk2IS5FrFLSwcKFQxRlBKeecY0/s400/217993_215511318574409_420634458_n.jpg" /></a></div>
♥ Sometimes you read more between the line,
than what is written on paper,
sometime you get it wrong sometimes right,
then other times you read what you need to hear♥
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Until next time we meet again,
Thanks for visiting
Rina</div>Past and Presenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336806055365060300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658470041883277753.post-42222744870053122622012-09-20T14:12:00.001-07:002012-09-20T14:12:29.526-07:00Digbundel van Boerius
Gedigte van 'n Boer
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWsx7bBMn90wGeHGuzJACk9N6KiQkhbdunuwNItpDsRNh0FUnRBDoPmoLNalkR1XWxUSNHSGEkxSeoIQX585doghUFSBYiPl0X1wYomQhZTv4XKrjUkv8ytbz1ZI_RiVJrRBW3hqu72Pk/s1600/250618_434331119946059_946865203_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWsx7bBMn90wGeHGuzJACk9N6KiQkhbdunuwNItpDsRNh0FUnRBDoPmoLNalkR1XWxUSNHSGEkxSeoIQX585doghUFSBYiPl0X1wYomQhZTv4XKrjUkv8ytbz1ZI_RiVJrRBW3hqu72Pk/s400/250618_434331119946059_946865203_n.jpg" /></a></div>
Boerius: Herstel ons poorte
Mure van gister
waar vervalle steen in mank bestaan
kronieke baar van dit wat was –
...die laggies wat so skoppelmaai
om steen en klip se swye draai;
die liefde en die leed gedeel
wat smôrensmossie klank soos mos
in songebakte vensters los,
maar nou in graf se stilte sak
die swye oor geroeste dak.
So staan my volk,
ook eens gevul van vreugdeklank
waar son oor ruie berge
in ligkrans oor die wolke span
waar elk na gisters nou verlang
in soeke na Nehemia moed
om Jerusalem se poorte te herstel
op te bou
en fees tot eer van God te hou!
12 September 2012
Lokaal Gevangenis, Pretoria
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXiOZEsk1JQc2aBFfTiuCVjGrAqJgHUZJ4viM9ScfxjkBDCykfV7-vQcx7iE8nrZCFy0KBSjaDHGlxP57vqp-xVgfc1yDL1KPlJJgrXi9IQmmLgl9lyyOnERspQqpplRGEN7fmRCeo-1U/s1600/538606_349163378462834_227831737_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="400" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXiOZEsk1JQc2aBFfTiuCVjGrAqJgHUZJ4viM9ScfxjkBDCykfV7-vQcx7iE8nrZCFy0KBSjaDHGlxP57vqp-xVgfc1yDL1KPlJJgrXi9IQmmLgl9lyyOnERspQqpplRGEN7fmRCeo-1U/s400/538606_349163378462834_227831737_n.jpg" /></a></div>
Boerius: Herfstuin
Kom pluk vir my papawers uit jou Boereplaas se tuin
waar herfs se son deur skugter skadu’s geel en vrolik skyn
Dit streel oor madeliefies en dit speel deur kapperkruid
Dit bons op bittereinder roos se laaste skoonheidspr...uik.
Die vygies in die voortuin, ballerina pienk getooi
wat hartelus seisoen se draai die koue winters nooi.
Viooltjiesaad word uitgestrooi, in strykstok grond gesaai
wat selfs die wintergrou se vaal in liefdeskleur verfraai.
Krisante by die boordekant bring herfs in volle kleur
wat in die oggend koeler lug vermeng in douvars geur.
Agapanthus en vuurpyle wat met nekkies uitgestrek
die korter dag se heimwee na die lentegroei verwek.
Mag ek dan in my mens se draai as laaste blommespel
my lofsang tot die Groot Tuinier in voorwinter vertel.
26 Maart 2012
Lokaal Gevangenis, Pretoria.
Skildery deur Marinda le Grange
Digbundel van Boerius kan aanlyn bestel word digitaal en hardekopie
Hardekopie:
78 Bladsye
Prys: R120 (posgeld ingesluit)
Besonderhede vir bestellings:
E-pos dan net u kwitansie en posadres waarheen die bundel gepos moet word na:
wilhelm.pretorius@yahoo.com
Betaling kan ook plaasvind deur middel van Paypal op die volgende webwerf:
http://www.wix.com/wilhelmpretorius/gietoffers_van_my_siel
Digitale weergawe kan direk gekoop word by:
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/130967
<div class="blogger-post-footer">Until next time we meet again,
Thanks for visiting
Rina</div>Past and Presenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336806055365060300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658470041883277753.post-19164879378610291982012-08-22T14:02:00.002-07:002012-08-22T14:12:05.458-07:00God's Creature ... AngelI called you Angel,black with a white bib and socks
you are God's creature
cause there must be a reason you come into our lives
is it you need us more
finally after weeks you let us touch you
you lead the way, we follow
a little closer everyday
a little more trusting
today I got close enough to feel what is surely growing inside
a bellyfull of kittens
Is this why they throw you away?
the Christmas present now unwanted?
They are to blame
All it took, was a quick trip to the vet
could have been so different
now we just wait for the day you give birth
Welcome Angel<div class="blogger-post-footer">Until next time we meet again,
Thanks for visiting
Rina</div>Past and Presenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336806055365060300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658470041883277753.post-17414434789566240172012-08-04T15:14:00.001-07:002012-08-04T15:20:25.973-07:00Kind wees .... deur Tinus FourieTinus Fourie
Aan al die “kinders” wat die 1930’s tot 1970’s oorleef het!
Eerstens het ons die rokery en drinkery van ons moeders oorleef terwyl hulle swanger was.
Hulle het aspiriene gedrink, blou kaas en vis uit ‘n blik ge-eet en is nooit getoets of hulle diabeties was nie.
Na al die trauma was ons in ons bedjies gesit op ons magies in ‘n kot wat oorgetrek was met helder kleurige lood basis verf. Ons het geen “kindvaste” deksels of proppe op medisyne bottles, deure of kaste gehad nie en geen kopskerms gedra as ons fietry nie… Om nie te praat van die risiko’s toe ons duim gery het nie.
As kleuters en kinders kon ons agter op die sitplek sit sonder veiligheids stoele, veiligheidsgordels of lugsakke.
Om agter op die bakkie te ry was groot pret en ons het water uit die tuinslang gedrink en nie uit bottels nie.
Ons het ons koeldrankies met vier vriende gedeel uit een bottel en niemand is dood daarvan nie.
Ons het sjokoladekoek en wit brood geëet met regte botter en “kool aid” met suiker gemaak om te drink, maar ons was nie oorgewig nie want…..
ONS HET ALTYD BUITE GESPEEL!
Ons het die huis verlaat in die oggend vroeg en het heeldag gespeel. Solank ons terug was as die straatligte aankom of voor die kerse aangesteek was.
NIEMAND kon ons kontak deur die dag nie en ons het almal veilig teruggekeer huistoe.
Ons het ure spandeer deur kaskarre te bou uit afval hout en yster en het dan teen die steilste bulte afgejaag, net om uit te vind ons het vergeet van die brieke. Nadat ons ‘n paar keer die kaskar omgegooi het en tussen die bosse ingejaag het, het ons geleer om die probleem op te los.
Die dogtertjies het die rokkies in hul broekies gesteek om ook in al die prêt te kon deel en niemand het iets daarvan gedink nie.
Seksuele molestasie was nie aan ons bekend nie en tiener swangerskappe was nie van gehoor nie.
Ook was daar nie tyd vir dwelms nie want ons ouers het nog genoeg vir ons omgegee om ons boude aan die brand te klits as ons iets ongehoords sou probeer doen.
Sondae het ons almal ons beste kleertjies aangetrek en kerk toe gegaan. GEEN verskonings om tuis te bly was aanvaarbaar nie. Braaivleis en partytjies op Sondae was uit. Ons het geweet wat “ses dae moet jy arbei en al jou werk doen en die sewende dag moet jy rus” beteken. Daar het ons geleer van liefde, respek, hoe om God te vrees en te vertrou. Dat vaders en moeders ge-eer moet word en ons monde met seep uitgewas SAL word wanneer ons vloek of teëpraat.
Boeke vat saans na ete was ‘n werklikheid en ons almal het aandagtig geluister want vrae is gevra oor die stukkie wat gelees was.
Ons was ook geleer hoe om elke aand voor ons bedjies te kniel en te bid.
Ons het nie “playstations”, “ninetendo’s”, “X boxes”, “wii”, of enige video speletjies gehad nie.. “Shopping” vir ontspanning was nie aan ons bekend nie, en “label” klere was toe ook nog nie eers in “ China ” gemaak nie. Snobisme was ‘n galbitter vrug wat net in die Amasone “gegroei” het en sakgeld was “iets” wat net die Staatspresident van geweet het.
Ook nie 150 TV kanale, DVD’s of video flieks, selfone, persoonlike rekenaars met internet, facebook of chatrooms nie…
Ons het VRIENDE gehad… en as ons hulle gesoek het, het ons net buite toe gegaan.
Ons het uit bome geval, was gesny en het bene gebreek en daar was geen geregtelike eise vir hierdie ongelukke nie.
Ons het wurms en modderpasteie ge-eet en die wurms het nie vir altyd in ons geleef nie.
Ons het windbukse en poppe gekry vir ons tiende verjaarsdag, speletjies opgemaak met stokke en tennisballe, ou komberse en peule en al het niemand ons gewaarsku dat dit kan gebeur nie, het ons min oë uit gesteek.
Ons het met ons fietse gery of pop gespeel of sommer net geloop na ons vriende se huise, aan die deur geklop en sommer ingeloop en gesels. “oom” en “tannie” was nog aan die orde van die dag en “jy” en “jou” was net op rondloper honde van toepassing.
Rugby en tennis spannetjies het proewe gehad en die wat nie die span gehaal het nie, moes maar vrede maak daarmee – Verbeel jou dit!!
Ons het gereeld die bed natgemaak en ons ouers het ons ‘n pak slae gegee, nie na sielkundiges toe geneem nie omdat hulle nie geweet het wat om met ons te doen nie.
Die gedagte om jou kinders by die polisiestasie te gaan uit borg het nie bestaan nie. Ouers was aan die polisie se kant! Sien, kinders was daai tyd nie gehoor, of gesien, in geselskap nie want die ouers was nie bang vir hul kinders nie!
Tande tel was uit want ons het geweet hoe om te speel. Ons ouers en grootouers se grootste taak was definitief nie om ons te “entertain” nie.
Terugpraat was die grootste euwel en ons ouers het nie toegelaat dat ons kinders hulle met mooi woordjies kon manipuleer nie. Ouers was nog ouers en kinders was nog kinders, en kinders het gedoen wat vir hulle gesê was.
“Skoolsiekte” was nie toegelaat nie want ons ouers het geweet hoe om te “cope” met die daaglikse stres in hulle lewens. Al wanneer jy by die huis kon bly was wanneer jy half dood was. Termometers was ook nie onder jou tong of in jou oor geplaas nie……
Skoolsertifikate is aan almal uitgegee wat nooit afwesig was gedurende die jaar nie en snaaks genoeg, ons almal het altyd een gekry.
Elke oggend was met gebed en sang ge-open en die oudste onnies het altyd die Bybelperiode aangebied. Seker omdat hulle die Bybel die beste geken het.
Daardie generasie het van die beste risikovatters, problemoplossers en uitvinders OOIT geproduseer.
Die laaste 50 jaar het bestaan uit ontploffings van uitvindings en nuwe idees.
Ons het vryheid, verlies, sukses en verantwoordelikheid gehad en ons het GELEER hoe om dit te hanteer.
As jy een van hulle was.. Baie geluk!!!
Jy wil dalk hierdie deel met die wat gelukkig was om groot te word soos kinders, voordat prokureurs en regerings jou lewe “vir jou eie beswil” begin reguleer het.
Terwyl jy besig is, Stuur die aan vir jou kinders sodat hulle kan sien hoe dapper (en gelukkig) hulle ouers was.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Until next time we meet again,
Thanks for visiting
Rina</div>Past and Presenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336806055365060300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658470041883277753.post-3161135226079563792012-07-31T15:40:00.001-07:002012-07-31T19:02:28.566-07:00Feels like a slow death ...<a href=http://youtu.be/SbAUzcuvVYc">
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Best cousins and friends Luke and Cobi
Maybe you have not notice, not many posts here of late, sorry I promise to atleast try again. So many things this year has gone wrong, things I feel I don't really want to share in Blogland. My worst fear is coming true and in just a few daysI have to say Goodbye to one of my grandsons, they will be moving back to South Africa. It hurts to much to say more on this subject so I just leave it at that for now ... a big hole in my heart for sure. Sometimes not all your wishes could be granted by the Fairy Godmother.
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Annabella ... Castle by the sea ... inspired by someone special has also come to a standstill for now, just can't get myself in the writing Zone, but that does not mean her story will not be told. She just lives in my head for now ...
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And in the meantime I offer you, a little song we love to sing while driving with the boys Bruno Mars ... Count on Me Please switch off the mxpod on the right and enjoy the song ... sure puts a smile on our dails The above pic was taken of the boys at the airport flying back to Brisbane after the holidays
Well that's it for me ATM
until nexttime
Rina<div class="blogger-post-footer">Until next time we meet again,
Thanks for visiting
Rina</div>Past and Presenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336806055365060300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658470041883277753.post-90830817626864733942012-06-03T15:17:00.001-07:002012-06-03T15:17:30.091-07:00<a href="http://youtu.be/x94m407UJSI">http://youtu.be/x94m407UJSI
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Just a little bit of Bruno Mars I discovered on my new CD Hope you enjoy the song.
Please switch off the mxpod on the right
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The Full Strawberry Moon
is June 4th, Monday.
June's Full Strawberry Moon got its name (in the US) because the Algonquin tribes knew it as a signal to gather ripening fruit. ~~ It was often known as the Full Rose Moon in Europe (where strawberries aren't native).
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Silver
Slowly, silently, now the moon
Walks the night in her silver shoon;
This way, and that, she peers, and sees
Silver fruit upon silver trees;
One by one the casements catch
Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;
Couched in his kennel, like a log,
With paws of silver sleeps the dog;
From their shadowy coat the white breasts peep
Of doves in a silver-feathered sleep;
A harvest mouse goes scampering by,
With silver claws, and silver eye;
And moveless fish in the water gleam,
By silver reeds in a silver stream.
- Walter de la Mare
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwosk0PWSoF8WX7H7avhrilv4oDrn55L3zZxQIKCnDsOkeGliH5YFtrf4SkV_tvB0e1spjkVOJzvWg1xsUV3DXh8WKIiMYJnZD7IptoU6OBngKoPDP9fx8kSC78aO8LpL92k92GCGjNew/s1600/lune.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="355" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwosk0PWSoF8WX7H7avhrilv4oDrn55L3zZxQIKCnDsOkeGliH5YFtrf4SkV_tvB0e1spjkVOJzvWg1xsUV3DXh8WKIiMYJnZD7IptoU6OBngKoPDP9fx8kSC78aO8LpL92k92GCGjNew/s400/lune.jpg" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Until next time we meet again,
Thanks for visiting
Rina</div>Past and Presenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336806055365060300noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2658470041883277753.post-24967688253989755512012-05-02T19:48:00.002-07:002012-05-02T19:48:53.484-07:00A Sweet Lesson on Patience ... (sad story)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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thoughts and sentiments ƸӜƷ˜”*°•.•.¸ღ Heal Ourselves, Heal The World's photos · Heal Ourselves, Heal The World's Profile ... Borrowed from Facebook.
Heal Ourselves, Heal The World
A Sweet Lesson on Patience.
A NYC Taxi driver wrote:
I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked again. Since this was going to be my last ride of my shift I thought about just driving away, but instead I put the car in park and walked up to the door and knocked.. 'Just a minute', answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.
After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940's movie.
By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.
There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard
box filled with photos and glassware.
'Would you carry my bag out to the car?' she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.
She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.
She kept thanking me for my kindness. 'It's nothing', I told her.. 'I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.'
'Oh, you're such a good boy, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, 'Could you drive
through downtown?'
'It's not the shortest way,' I answered quickly..
'Oh, I don't mind,' she said. 'I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice.
I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. 'I don't have any family left,' she continued in a soft voice..'The doctor says I don't have very long.' I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.
'What route would you like me to take?' I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.
We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.
Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, 'I'm tired.Let's go now'.
We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.
Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move.
They must have been expecting her.
I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.
'How much do I owe you?' She asked, reaching into her purse.
'Nothing,' I said
'You have to make a living,' she answered.
'There are other passengers,' I responded.
Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug.She held onto me tightly.
'You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,' she said. 'Thank you.'
I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light.. Behind me, a door shut.It was the sound of the closing of a life..
I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day,I could hardly talk.What if that woman had gotten an angry driver,or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?
On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life.
We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.
But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Until next time we meet again,
Thanks for visiting
Rina</div>Past and Presenthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336806055365060300noreply@blogger.com2