The Ramblings of a Redhead

The sun has yet to rise. In the fading darkness a cool breeze blows through the trees. The limbs creak and groan in protest. Sounds of the world around me waking up slowly begin to fill the air. The world is just beginning to stir. A new day is on the brink of the horizon. Ponderings, contemplations, hopes, dreams, renewals, another chance to live the life we have been given to the fullest. A new day has come filled with unknowns ready to be explored and discovered, and it lies ready at our feet. Let's love deeper, live fuller, dream bigger, hold on tighter, let go easier, laugh always, listen with open hearts, see people more clearly, think outside of the box... Today is a new day. Let's make the most of the adventure.

Night has fallen, and the moon shines hauntingly down onto the freshly fallen snow. I lie wide awake even though I must be up in just a few hours. I close my eyes willing sleep to embrace me. However, time seems to be against me. One hour passes, then two, three... I toss and turn. I stare up into the darkness towards my ceiling. Another hour passes. I glance at the clock - 1:30am... It may as well be 1:30 in the afternoon with how awake I feel. Perhaps if I get out of bed and move about then sleep will come looking for me instead. Another hour and a half of precious time gone... Sleep still has yet to make even an inkling of an appearance. I think back on the previous day. It was filled with so much joy, friendship, and fun. Amazing memories had been made. Perhaps sleep is evading me because it knows how difficult it is when a fantastic day has to end. Another half hour is steadily passing, and I have to wonder...will sleep come at all tonight? I hold onto hope, and if it doesn...

The mind is a most intriguing place. Especially when it is the mind of a writer. So many stories just waiting to be told. Heroes, heroines, villains, and friends all just waiting for their windows to be opened. They yearn to be set free. Each window is different. Each one holding a unique story all of its own. An ocean of ideas fighting to be released, but only the author, their creator, can open them and allow them to fill up the blank pages. If all the windows were to be opened at once, what would happen then? Would stories that were never intended to cross collide, or rather perhaps a brand new adventure would take on a new unforeseen life. A stack of old notebooks filled to the brim with pages and pages of ideas and creations. Some are unique while others are re-imaginings of ideas already existing. The creativity is breathtaking. Nothing would be worth more than a love of writing. Who else could set these stories free if not the one who created them? The mind is a most int...

The gentle *tap* *tap* *tap* of each raindrop hitting the leaves in the trees echoes in the stillness of this grey day. I can hear a soft chirping from a bird that has taken shelter in a nearby pine tree. An occasional car drives past, and the sloshing from the tires on the wet road disturb the stillness, but the sound quickly fades leaving behind only the sound of the gentle rainfall. I glance down to the steam that rises from the cup of hot chocolate that warms my hands. The hot liquid is a sharp contrast to the crisp air. The rich flavor hits my tongue and warms my soul. There is nothing quite as refreshing as a cool autumn morning accompanied by a cup of hot chocolate. It takes me back to the days when my biggest worry was not getting in enough playtime before the sun went down. I can still hear my mother's voice calling from the back porch. I can still see the sparkle in her eyes and the smile on her face as she would surprise me and my brothers with cups of freshly made hot...

I watch the moonlight stream through the window. The gentle glow caresses the ivory keys of an old piano. I wonder, what if the rays could become fingers? Would they gently lull a melody out of the instrument? If so, what would it play? A melancholy lullaby or a sweet whisper of yesteryear? I close my eyes and listen. The night sings its song...and it is luring me to sing along.

As night falls so does the rain. The brilliant colors of autumn are washed clean by the cold autumn rain, but the bright colors fade into the shadows and the night grows older. Another day draws to a close, and I find my mind wandering to days long past...the number of sunsets I have watched, the clear nights when stars dappled the sky overhead, the full moons...all of them singing their songs in my mind, and oh, what a beautiful symphony it is. I lie and listen to the rain falling. It hits the leaves and streets, and I find myself content to just be. The puddles on the ground are much like my mood, reflective...the puddles reflecting the things around it and I of time gone by. Still the night grows even older, and autumn moves forward. The days grow shorter with each that passes. My friends, don't lose heart for the growing darkness, for dreams await, and what better time for dreaming then after the sun has set and night has taken hold?

Light begins to fill the sleeping world, and autumn's crisp chill is its dance partner. Their melody of the early morning causes me to drift between consciousness and sleep. Memories of an epic adventure are still fresh in my mind. Thoughts of a new day dawning begin to cut in to the dance. What new adventures shall today bring? As light filters through my window I can't help but smile. Each day is precious. Each day its own adventure.