On Solid Rock, I Stand
“I’ve been a drifter before,” she starts.
She likes to remind us of her past — likes
to tell us of her hard times and just how
much growth has taken place since
the last blow to her heart or to her mind.
We stand around. We look at her.
In awe of an elder who has been around
the world many times, we sink into
“I’m hard. I’m soft. I’m everything
in between. And on solid rock, I stand —
waiting for my life’s journey to
complete. I’ve lived long enough.
I’ve loved long enough. I’ve had my
fill. I’m ready to step forward into
my new life — an afterlife away from
We’re captivated by her. A sea of memories
floods her brain and one by one, she
spits them out toward us. I find
myself reaching out into thin air,
prepared to capture a thought — a gift.
She is steadfast. Unshakeable. Immovable.
Even in these golden years, she’s sharp —
her quick quips will outwit anyone
up against her.
Her lover, a woman of Asian descent, passed
on two years ago. She combs her hair — reaches
for the brush, then strokes her head gently.
She reminisces . . . there are stories of
their first date — laughter fills the room.
I can see how happy she is as she speaks of
Cara — that was her name.
Brief pauses accompany our exchange
the moon seeps in and dances —
She doesn’t miss a beat. Before I leave,
I know everything there is to know
about Cara and how loved she was by
this rock of a woman who will never,
could never, and would never
“I was your age once. I didn’t live
as well and as much as I should have.
Don’t be like me. Be bold enough to
shout at life when it angers you and
step into its grip even when you’re
afraid. Don’t be like me. Don’t. Be more.”
I made a promise.
I make a promise.
I am more.
©2020 Tremaine L. Loadholt