Title: Golden Journey
Gold, the color of my ’63 Pontiac. If it wasn’t the color of gold, it might not have prompted her to talk to a stranger. We were never the same after that first conversation.
A dull gold, the worn path leading up this mountain trail.
A mixed palette of gold, trees shining brightly against the early morning sun.
Gold, was the color of her shoulder length hair.
We walked this path hundreds of times over the years. I remember what she said and where she said it.
Why did I disagree with her urging?
I remember replying, ‘If I was meant to fly, God would have given me wings.’
She rebelled, and took up flying. Then, when that was not enough excitement, she took up piloting hot air balloons.
Her balloon, ‘The Golden Phoenix,’ shined like the sun when she flew around these mountains and valleys.
I only missed that one day flying with her. More ‘important things’ to do that morning. Maybe, if I was there, I could have done something to prevent the accident.
However, if I was there, then our son, Goldie, would not have any parents.
He followed her passion for flying, and ballooning, and would fly the same route of her fateful journey on the anniversary of her crash. I never really knew how much he mourned his mother. Authorities believe it was another accident. They will never convince me.
How fitting this bullet color matches those bright golden leaves.
DickCWaters 