A story....

Somehow, the vibrant colors painted on the walls, no wall matching another, seemed to fit right in. Normally the bright blues startling greens and deep reds would clash and overpower, but not here. He remembered the candles, flickering their strange orange light against the walls; some were evidently scented, emanating their strong perfumes throughout the small room; peppermint, vanilla and some strange scent, hard to place. But that was so long ago, and so far away.

Some would call it tacky, the old white trailer, a wreck from the 80’s, complete with flat tires and one corner that was perceptively lower; but once again, it seemed to fit, a few cinder blocks and a broken two by four lay near the dipping corner; evidence of attempted repair at some point. An old rusty oil barren stood off to the side of the trailer, the top cut off. It was used to burn garbage, turning the discarded paper plates; plastic cups and whatever else was thrown in into thick black smoke, all that remained now were the burnt ashes; black and grey. The barrel was half full of the fine ash; the trailer must have been here awhile. He stuck a stick deep into the ash and stirred it around, the clanking of metal; he reached in and pulled out a can with burnt faded writing on the side, “COLA”. The can was old, taller than cans you see now, no shapely lines and curves.
He couldn’t remember them ever drinking cola, but maybe they did, he was just youngster back then. So many years ago……


Isn't it strange how making up or reading stories about other people, the fun they had, the adventures they shared with friends, somehow make us feel better? But still, we are jealous. Why can't I have these adventures, why can't I have the friends to share them with?

But then it's back to life, back to harsh reality that I, we, must cope with........and, I suppose, life goes on.