A rainy winter night in Wichita,Kansas

December 14, 1971 found me in the midst of holiday planning, tree decorating and cookie making.

Big plans for later that day reinforced my need to finish what I could. My three year old son was anxious to help and we merrily rolled peanut butter cookies into balls to be baked as the next batch signalled it was done! His excitement was as real as mine! His blue eyes sparkled in the blinking Christmas tree. By noon we were ready as that was our deadline.

My husband arrived at the appointed hour.It was pre-arranged and several weeks early.Today our new baby would arrive in the chilly early Kansas evening.

This day a son was born to a little family. His arrival would forever change our lives.

Happy birthday, my son, Michael!You light up our lives!

Advertisements

Ripples

Ripples

Wash from waving dunes to undulating

surf

Whispering” come follow”…

Tracing ancient, ageless paths

across the empty beach.

Under a silent silver sky,

I stoop to scoop a single shell,

The broken and the whole.

The wind and sand polish my cheeks soft.

70 years of living

Smoothed to satin, again

Baby-soft skin,

Reborn of the wind…

Following timeless ripples to the sea.

Nancilynn

November 2018

Port Aransas, TX

Memories

It’s strange how you can remember where you were who you were with and the smallest details of seminal events that color our history.

Twenty- five years ago today, I was standing in my kitchen covered up to my elbows in jerky marinade as I was attempting to make the treat homemade. Although labor intensive it seemed to be well within my skill set and I was anxious to use my new dehydrator.

When the phone rang, I picked it up as my husband was outdoors doing yard work. I heard in single words: accident, Emergency Room, air flight. Come now!

I called frantically to my husband to come NOW, at the same time ripping my marinade spattered blouse off replacing with a clean shirt.

It was a short ten mile drive to the hospital but a university football game traffic slowed the frantic drive.

Family filled the sidewalk in front of the hospital doors. Inside, my daughter in law sat, her face ashen.

Her mother came to meet us. The tragic story almost too sad to comprehend.

In time, an ER Nurse came to get the two grandmothers. We were led down a darkened narrow corridor to see our youngest grandchild. To say goodbye.

Nothing could have prepared us for the sight of our precious boy with a a row of angry metal staples holding his small head together. In the background, the woosh of life-support equipment. This.was not to save his life but his viable transplantable organs.

The transplant team, chaplains and nurses had taken me aside beforehand with the grim frankness of the prognosis. The request of me to convince his mother to let him go.

The day was one of the saddest of my life. Phone calls to great grandparents; a phone call to my son, his father, who was in prison. The rest of the day and following week unfolded in black and white like a silent movie.

I remember other events that marked time on my life but none like the death of baby Joshua, that burned grief indelibly ony heart.

© Nancilynn Saylor

September 25,2018

Until we meet again…

Sunday in Church , I prayed for an end to my sister’s suffering. The cancer and the treatments had ravaged her body. She was afraid to die and very sad. I could feel the passing would be soon.

I was already very sad as it was it was the anniversary of my oldest son’s death.

I paced from room to room. I paced around the church.

I cried.

I prayed. At bedtime waves of

anxiety overwhelmed me as I lay on my bed in a fetal position.

Dreams of my parents who had gone before and my long lost son chased me through corridors of another dimension.

I woke up with a start at 3:32 for water or to relive myself.

I shuddered remembering my dreams. I prayed again for comfort for my little sister before collapsing back into fitful sleep.

When daylight filtered through the moon window above my bed, I dared look at the phone on the nightstand.

The call had come, muffled by the sound of artificial waves that rock me to sleep each night

The call I’d dreaded and expected.

My little sister was no longer wracked with pain.

Her smile returned-accompanied by Angel wings.

© Nancilynn Saylor June 2018

Austin TX

Heavenly

The scent of this morning’s

Fresh plucked Magnolia blossom

Fills the room tonight.

One of my favorites…

One I cannot explain to my own satisfaction,

Much less to another.

Tonight, I am reminded of the first time I smelled Magnolia and how the adrenaline swelled through my body while Angels infused the air.

Spring.

Charleston.

Lemon scented paradise…

It’s different tonight . I cannot lose the lump in my throat no matter how much I swallow.

The scent of Angels this Spring will remind me of my sister who lays dying

Bravely fighting the cancer ravaging her already frail form. Tears scald my cheeks as

I lift the bloom-filled globe to inhale the smell of Heaven that awaits her.

Nancilynn Saylor 2 June 2018