LAST NIGHT

The morning is cool and overcast. Hard to get going. More so if I don’t make a start. So here goes. I’m tap, tapping on my keyboard, however I feel. As I tap, the sun came out, giving me a boost.

Last night I fell asleep with nature crackling thunderously overhead. Through the opened window, I saw lightning flashing in the dark. I felt surprisingly good surrounded by the furies of the Universe. I felt calmed by its energy. I heard its message. I’m doing the best I can – not to contribute to the destruction of our precious earth. I’m not feeling optimistic about our survival though. News of heat waves and fatalities in India and Europe, more turbulant air flights resulting in injuries and a summer of weird weather are convincing me of the truth. We are heading towards our last 10 years less a day.

 

I’m really a bit shocked at how calm and accepting of this truth I am. I am not at all frightened nor panicky. Perhaps I’m depressed but maybe not. The most amazing thing I’ve learned this year is when I let go of the fears – let all my shoes fall (or tossed into my garbage bin), there is no crash on the cement. I fall on a bed of feathers.  I hear the wisdom of Professor McPherson’s advice.

“I think hope is a horrible idea. Hope is wishful thinking. Hope is a bad idea – let’s abandon that and get on with reality instead. Let’s get on with living instead of wishing for the future that never comes.

“I encourage people to pursue excellence, to pursue love, to pursue what they love to do. I don’t think these are crazy ideas, actually – and I also encourage people to remain calm because nothing is under control, certainly not under our control anyway.”

I could use a little more humour, too. Have you seen the move, Last Night? It’s an excellent Canadian black humour about a group of people facing the end of the world. Check it out.

LAST NIGHT – Friday Fictioneers

It’s Friday and time for fiction of 100 words, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

 

PHOTO PROMPT Copyright-Madison Woods The photo is actually from Lura Helms

PHOTO PROMPT Copyright-Madison Woods The photo is actually from Lura Helms

 

She rested her back against her old friend, feeling its coarse rough bark through her thin blouse.  She was home.

Already she was missing him – his arms, his voice – his very essence.

I love you!

He looked at her.

How can you love someone in two weeks?  It’s the uniform.

She cast her eyes downward, tears coursing down her cheeks.  There was nothing to say.  She sipped her champagne and swallowed.

The moon shone down.  Perspiration beaded on his forehead.  He mopped it with his white handkerchief, leaned over and kissed her.

You’ll be alright.  Let’s just enjoy the night.