Chapter 1

Memories and Reflection.

Episode 1 – In A Daze

Life. With a bit of reflection, and with some time spent on this road, you can actually sense the memories like a shadow growing with each passing day. We often revisit much of what we experience, pulling about the most cherished events to reminisce on. It was my attempt to do such a thing. Reach back into my mind, find some happiness there, and to relive the world from which I had come from. Those clippings of time are but the moments we know most intimately; of a lost yesterday, that when they suddenly and most unexpectantly re-appear, not as shadows, but as spots in our thoughts, we realize just how much of a friend they really are to us. I would recall the happier times, along with the emotions and the feelings that were like fine silk threads interwoven into those occasions; pieces of history; my history; moments in time; my time.

Anything can trigger a reflection. Voices that can echo without warning from days gone by, and which huddle close to your every waking thought. At any moment they might spring about and ask you to recall the long and seemingly-still ghosts from your wind-blown past. There, when something you hear is something you had heard from long ago. It moves you to remember. Do you hear it? Those whispers and sounds buried in that endless treasure vault of experiences. It awakes from what seems to be a forgotten dream buried within time itself.

In the most troubled times you find time to reflect; to ponder the world as it was. Perhaps the smell of an ancient fragrance will guide you there; or the whiff of some childhood candy you hadn't enjoyed in years. But you remember and only forget until that same memory comes again to visit you; to say hello, and remind you of what used to be.

I thought I was too young for this; to reminisce, to think, to ponder, to relive seemingly glorious years that didn't seem so glorious while living in them. But here they are with me; fragments, pieces of treasures that are but a puzzle until I am able to put them all together. I have always been told trauma bears trial; and in trials, a person discovers what they are truly made of. It's like a rainbow of emotions; where both sorrow and joy were born and brought out to look like a distant, beautiful rainbow. In this case, distance would need to remove me from the present and eventually make it a part of my past. Then, perhaps then, I could reflect on this moment I am living under and I could see some scrap of joy that would eventually be produced.

I suppose it's true what they say about the heaviest showers. There should always be a most beautiful rainbow after such a rain. Here, now, it was as if I was looking within a brief section from my past and reliving a piece of a world I once knew all over again. But I could not recollect, not evenly faintly – everything feel into a blur without a coherent thought to rely on.

It felt to be a contrary world of uneven sorts; a place, a point in time where such a shower had just passed by, and I was still having no clear explanation on it; no rainbow still yet to be seen.

Such feelings have their most inherent, oppressive actions. They sway my perception, causing me to blink when the need is not there. They don't wander far, staying near and acting like a locked pinion pulling me down, holding me in bay, keeping me from the happiness I have always known. The day, the hour, the moment, swelled to stop and stall on the verge of collapse, leaving me and my family in a distorted and narrow arena to live in.

I could not tell you precisely what it was. The world seemed in disarray, yet those who walked about this part of the universe appeared to have no clue regarding its affect, nearly oblivious regarding that altered state and change in patterns. The weather seemed as bright blue sky as always to them.

I knew it.

I felt it.

The rain had come and gone, but I couldn't find the rainbow.

I observed its' every direction, the constant motion it created in my life, and how disruptive it had become in our normal, quiet symmetry.

You learn the greater capacity for intuition during such times; to be most keen in your individual observations. Things before that I ignored seemed most relevant to me now; and yet, how they caused me to falter on the traditional requirements and normal routines within my life. I wandered constantly within my thoughts in search of clues to place adequate reasoning for all of this.

I still wonder as I still wander.

But to see the puzzle pieces to my life flashing before and through me, gave me pause to escape on those aimless winds. They appeared to have no direction or navigation in them. I lost myself from the present, seeing now those traveled worlds like a good tale to review once more. Memories and Reflection - the particles of that which makes up the very essence of who I am, and who I have now become.

I feel trapped in yesterday. Today's pain causes me to look into the past, to find the time and place which was once good to me and my family. My children and my wife were not living there. They were waiting for me to come back, to find my way home again.

Now, I suppose this story has some virtue in its tale. How do I know this? Well, there is virtual truth in the belly of it. And where there is truth, then virtue is soon to follow like a good ending to a story.

Up to this time I had devoured life and all there had to be experienced. Now I was afraid of what tomorrow would bring; afraid to experience the joys along with the sorrows – all mixed in together, woven like a blanket of many colors.

It is true I have been most fortunate.

A wondrous life, some would say.

But inevitably; unforeseen trials trip you up and over, and you suddenly are in need of defining what the words 'Hope' and 'Faith' truly mean.

But here I sit.

I am the silent inhabitant of an only island; mine.