The Gray
I looked at my finger to check for the source of my pain, and was relieved to see that it was fine. My heart slowed and I smiled at the thought of how real my dream was. Setting my dream aside, my thoughts are now present in the moment. I slowly looked around my room and took in the amber glow of the lamp that illuminated my desk. I heard the whirring sound of the generator, forcing heat through my register vents, and was satisfied with its reliability. Within myself, I felt the warmness of peace and contentment just as the gentle flow of heat envelops my body and the room. I looked next to me and saw her lying with the rhythmic rise and fall of her breast that was covered by one of the bed sheets. Her face wears the look of serenity as she sleeps and it was then i realize that the moment is perfect. I turned from my lying posture and seated myself on my bed and looked to my window pane, all the while thanking Him for my healthy rise this morning.
In contrast to my dream, the clouds hid the sun, turning the color of the new day into a dingy light gray. The gray casts itself on the nature's colorful garden landscapes. Shadows do not survive the gray and no longer follows inanimate objects or any living thing. We reminisce the childhood singings of “Rain, rain, go away…â€, the rain being a by product of the gray, causes despair of minds, bodies and spirits. My heart sang this song as I stood in front of the window viewing my garden with my bare feet on the hardwood floor. In the yard next door, my neighbor wore his navy wind jacket and the fluttering of it while he stood still tells me that there was a windy coolness in the air that discouraged the outerwear of t-shirts, and shorts.
I remembered the gray years ago when I planted my first rose. It began as a big job in an area full of weeds, ivy and honeysuckle. I vacillated on the idea of keeping the honeysuckle, because of its sweet aroma, but realize that it is nature's most aggressive weed that must be inhibited. I cultivated and cleared them and proceeded to dig a hole 2 feet deep. I planted the rose in the ground and generously watered her. To present, she is the most ambitious of all my roses, climbing high and painting a sea of bright red about the trellis wall.
Her name was Oklahoma.
We live our lives for the sun, where our hearts gleefully smile,
But nature is wise in knowing that the rain must fall awhile.
The gray is a necessary color to give a fuller meaning to life,
An opportunity to summarize the good. the bad, to reconcile misfortunes and strife.
So be not angry at the gray or its rain...Nature, please do beg her pardon?.
But Oklahoma, she lives, many grays oft’ chagrin, so glad
I planted my rose in the garden.
