Stories - FD Thornton

Simple Reminders - Sandra Burnsed I was a little slow getting up this morning. I woke up around 4 am last night and had a little trouble getting back to sleep. I wrote something while I was half-awake, so I can't wait to read it in the light of day. What I will say about my experience last night was that it was not the usual "shock & awe" wake up experience I have. Instead it was actually kinda nice. For the past few weeks I've been dreaming dreams of loved ones long gone. And to be honest, some were a little bittersweet, but most were quiet pleasant to experience. I try not to make too much of dreams anymore, that was my mom's department. She was very much into trying to find a "sign" anywhere she could. For me looking for a religious symbol in whatever I could died out a long time ago. I simple see dreams as a way for the sub-conscience to find explanation in the things that occur. I believe our minds can sometimes get in the way of living.

I look upon the water and I’m reminded of where it all began. The dirt streets, the dead ends, the bottles by the side of the road. The school bus, the bread truck, and ride Clyde Ride, they all made an impression. A fat kid from B-dale who dreamed of love yet hated himself. So I ask how I got here, to this place and this time. More aware of who I am, while still learning to be me. Life is a paradox that seldom feels the need to explain itself. So we run around trying to grasp the meaning of it all. When in actuality there is no rhyme or reason. So I’ve pretty much given up asking why, and started asking myself, why not? Why not, live in peace and chase the dreams I desire. Even when those dreams never seem to pay off. So despite it all I take a picture and tell a story, looking down into that quiet water. Smiling to myself realizing I’m probably not the only one that will ever understand.

Sandra Burnsed - Ogeechee River I wish I could save you in a box and take you out when I need you. In those moments when I’m at my weakest, I could take you out and hold you close until the pain goes away. But you are not a possession, you are a broken soul, just like me. Wishing you could also put away that one soul that means so much to you. You inspire me, you take my breath away. Despite the distance you are closer to me than my own soul. Comforting me in my darkest hours. But I can’t be selfish, although I want to be. You are a light that shines on this world, a gentle soul wrapped in a case of steel. Oh how is wish I could sweep you up and keep you for myself. Someday maybe. Till then you hold my heart next to your soul. Keep it safe and take it out when you need me. I am but an imperfect man, with flaws and scares that may never heal. But deep within my soul lies an ember, a flame that was lit so long ago. I know that you feel the same, because I to can feel the warmth

Alaskan Sunrise - Sandra Burnsed  Good Morning. Today is beginning like most this time of season, watery eyes, sneezing, and blowing my nose. Here in the Southern US it is unusually warm with nights in the low 60's F and days pushing the low 80's F . It's practically mid-April right now. Which means my black pick-up truck is yellow the daffodils are popping up all over the place. If it's like this now, I can't wait till mid-June. Other than that I'm feeling fine, I slept till 5 am (winner), but I'm still having the weird little dreams before I wake up. Other than that, I feel like I'm getting a decent amount of rest. Suffering from panic and obsessing with health issues like I do, I would normally worry about such things. But since the "Big One" I don't seem to obsess with health issues as much as I used too. I think it all goes back to decades ago sitting in a therapist office having a panic attack. The therapist asked, "Do y

I don’t hear voices, I just feel emotions and I have dreams. Dreams that wake me up at night, dreams filled with conflict and stress. They leave my heart pounding, my nerves tangling, waking me from a sound sleep. But after decades of this, I suppose I’m just used to it. But that doesn’t make it any easier to live with . Panic Disorder and Generalized Anxiety Disorder are a bitch, there’s no two ways about it. But I do what can to survive, which is all you can ask of yourself. 300 words aren’t enough to describe living with panic and anxiety. But my self-imposed isolation, walking mediations, and medication definitely help. Writing and being honest with myself are also weapons to fight this illness. Along with telling my story to others that need to hear it. But the key to my survival is being proactive. Without waking up and fighting back, you aren’t going to make, it’s that plain and simple. Now I still have days where my head is buried under the covers. I still have days were

Bonfire by the Beach - 2018 I decided for this post to go a little "old school". which means I'm just going to type whatever pops out of my head, and let the chips fall where they may. Life is a series of separate events that add up to tell our story. For me my life has taken some crazy twists and turns, leading up to this very moment. And while most of my peers are leading established lives of working towards retirement. I'm sitting here plotting my next move, in what I hope is a long adventurous journey. Now I have no grand illusions being rich and spending my days by a bonfire on the beach. What I do have is a desire to better myself from the inside out, and honestly that's where the journey begins. I have so many friends and family that worry and worry and work themselves to death about tomorrow. I'll tell you what my friend, I've stood at the edge of life and death, and you know what? It's okay. No I didn't see angels or some bright whit

The Ogeechee River I hope to make this a series of stories about a place long gone and a family that is very important to me. This is the story of Uncle Shed's Fish Camp and Tony and Betty Saxon, and my live as the prodigal son. This is Part One: The River.  You couldn’t really see it in the pre-dawn hours, but you could hear it and definitely smell it. The current rushing past the bluff and the smell of fresh coffee as you got closer to the kitchen cabin. Tony was always up first holding court on the porch that surrounded the cabin. While Betty would busy fixing something for breakfast. These are my earliest memories of life on the river. And while things have changed over the years, the sight of Big T on the porch, coffee in one hand and a cigarette dangling from his bottom lip, never did. I suppose you could say I was a part of the family, the adopted oldest son of a mixed mashed brood of three sisters and one other brother. Even today after nearly 40 years they still ca

I don’t know what I’m feeling today, other than passively watching a movie and then listening to a podcast. I suppose it’s just one of those days where I have to shut off my mind. Every so often we have to do that, just go on autopilot for a while. And today was just as good a day as any for that.   No matter how simplistic you try and make you life pressure still puts a squeeze on you. I know that for me I often worry about things that are beyond my control. Things like the weather or the way other else feels about me. But all any of us can ever do is simply take care of ourselves. We can’t control anyone else’s opinion, really. We have to walk by faith that we are doing a good enough job to be appreciated. So on this quiet Sunday afternoon, all I can really tell you is, take care of yourself. After that the rest is gravy. You can’t live your life in the service of someone else, unless you’re looking after yourself first. There’s nothing selfish in that it’s just good common sen