Relative Size--(C) Steven G. O'Dell Nov. 2005

The warm sunshine felt wonderful on her arms and legs as she ran across the large open yard. The breeze was gentle, but more pronounced as she ran inhaling the fragrant air that wafted from the nearby lilac bushes and rose garden. The grass brushed her toes lightly with each bounding step and all was right with the world in this little girl's life. She felt so alive in this great big world that surrounded her.

With a sudden leap, she rolled to the ground and lay still for a moment, basking in the sunshine that bathed her naked skin and warmed her from head to foot. Catching her breath, she could hear the birds in the trees and in the sky overhead. 'Such a great big world,' she thought. Rubbing her arms back and forth across the blades of grass, as though making a summertime snow angel, the softness of the experience caused her to roll over onto her stomach, where she began to inspect the wonders before her.

Each blade, though seemingly at first glance the same as all its neighbors, was in its own way unique, even if only because the mower had shaved each in a different manner--some smoothly, some more torn, some angled and others straight as could be. She marveled that she had never noticed this before and as she stared closely at one particular blade she noticed the movement of some small creature that caught her eye. It was an ordinary ant, but she was in a state of heightened awareness today that led her to study this insect as she never had before. What a wondrous little creation this was and she marveled over it for several minutes as it went about its business in the grass before her. Until another movement caught her now sensitive eye.

It was incredibly tiny and she actually strained to come closer and focus upon it. What appeared to her fascinated gaze was an almost unbelievably minute creature, red and having all the appearance of a spider in its nature. She was now struck with a sense of wonder that she had indeed never felt. Here was something that she was discovering for the very first time in her young life--as if it were a new world, only now revealed to the eyes of mankind.

The detail she observed in this nearly microscopic creature was stunning. Every needful part was there to allow it to function in its own huge world and each worked to perfection. The young girl suddenly knew two things very clearly. First, large as her own world had seemed but a few short moments ago, there were things that must feel so much tinier than she. And secondly, she knew that she would never see her world in quite the same way ever again.

All In How You See It--(C) Steven G. O'Dell Nov. 2005

The old woman sat on the park bench pretending not to notice that her husband was doing it again. It happened every time they went to the park. It happened when they walked the street as they did each day at this time. It was happening again--now--and the old woman had finally lost her tolerance for it. She had never said anything as she saw him looking at these young women in the park or on the street, but had held her tongue as long as she could. She would say nothing again today, but her silence was no indication of concession on her part. No, far from it. Today she would hold her peace and do what she had imagined for so long. She would finally put an end to his wandering eye forever. She only had to wait for the right opportunity, but she was confident it would soon come. Perhaps something in his evening cocoa or a mix-up in his medications. No matter how, she thought, the time had come and she would act upon it. There were limits to what a woman ought to tolerate and she had indeed reached her limit.

The old man sat quietly on the park bench beside his wife. Occasionally he would watch the young women there with their boyfriends or their husbands. He hurt each time he thought of how badly he and his wife had wanted children of their own, but had not been able to do so. Reflecting now that his wife had especially wanted a daughter, the old man gazed silently at the young lady passing before him and wondered to himself--if they had been blessed with a daughter of their own, how old would she be by now? What would she look like? Would she already have children of her own, making him a grandfather? Dismissing these thoughts from his mind, he sighed in a barely audible manner and turned to his wife and smiled. He had at least been blessed with the most beautiful and wonderful woman in the world. He had enjoyed many years together with her, despite having no children, and he hoped to have many more in loving her. He was indeed a happy man and could complain very little about the hand that God had dealt him.

Anywhere I Want—© Steven G. O’Dell Nov. 2005

Thomas Feldon had reached the end of his workday. He slogged dejectedly through the front gate and climbed the worn steps to his front door. He had no one to return to each day, he hated his job and he had not so much as a pet to complain to for comfort. He was exhausted—not physically, but mentally and spiritually. Thomas unlocked and opened the door for the thousandth time, slipped in quietly and closed it behind himself. There was no noise at all in his house. It was silent as a tomb.

Sighing to himself, Thomas abruptly dropped his briefcase and thought to himself, That is the last of you for the weekend. Removing his suit jacket, he dropped it onto the sofa and felt yet another weight lifted from his shoulders—No more nasty bosses for the next few days. Sitting down, he removed his shoes and again delivered himself from a not-so-imaginary burden. No more deadlines to contend with for now. He removed his socks, smiled and dropped them where they would. No more nasty looks from the bosses’ secretary until Monday. Thomas stood up and unbuttoned his shirt, breathing a deep sigh of relief and exhaling it slowly. Removing his shirt, he tossed it onto the back of the sofa and stretched his arms upward. No whispering around the water cooler when I am approaching. He grinned widely and with renewed determination headed toward the back door, clad in T-shirt and trousers.

There was nothing in Thomas’s backyard except the grass and the sunshine, a few flowers that had voluntarily come up this year and the sound of the birds in the neighborhood trees. No matter. He was now in complete control of his world. Thomas closed his eyes and with face toward the sun, immediately detached himself from life as he knew it. Eyes still tightly shut, he smiled confidently and mysteriously and then stepped boldly forth into the dense forest that had just appeared before him. What a grand adventure must await me there, he thought. Perhaps this time I shall not return at all. And this time he didn’t.

The Guitar—© Steven G. O'Dell July 2005

The music was unlike any she had ever heard. It grabbed her by the heartstrings and pulled her physically to itself. The otherworldly strains came softly from the inner recesses of the undistinguished and quaint little shop that she had nearly missed in her private rush down the narrow cobblestone street, but she now stood transfixed as the sultry tones of the simple acoustic guitar beckoned to her from the darkness beyond the door.

One step at a time, slowly she marched forward, led by the intoxicating siren sound of an unseen master. Gradually, as her eyes became accustomed to the dim lighting of the room, the form took shape of a seated man bent over a guitar. His eyes were tightly closed, as though in deep meditation and his head subtly bobbed and weaved to the emotional melodies that so fluidly poured forth. His behavior suggested that he did not just play the music, but that he also experienced it, lived in it fully and passionately.

His fingers were now gentle and quivering, then again swift and light and she knew that the music that so deeply stirred her did not come alone from the fingers and mind of the musician, but from the depths of his very soul. His roughly handsome face changed with each phrase; soaring, now weeping and then flights of ecstasy and beyond. Tears flowed easily from her as the melodies played about her heart and feelings. She felt nearly captive and helpless in the grip of this master musician.

As she watched his two hands orchestrate their dance around the instrument he held, it occurred to her that the device he so masterfully expressed himself upon bore strong resemblance to her own feminine shape. She blushed as a warmth surprisingly surged through her and she instinctively knew that such hands as could express themselves in this spirit-touching manner must also know their way around the body of such a woman as she--nay, even her very soul.

Now nearly breathless, she lifted her gaze from the interplay of man and instrument, the dance between fret and soundboard, mesmerized by the now open, dark and penetrating eyes that seemed to search her inner depths. The soft smile on his lips assured her that any fears were in vain and she began to willingly open her heart and mind to this heavenly symphony that she had nearly lost in her desire to hurry to nowhere important.

Yours For A Wish - (c) Steven G. O'Dell Nov. 2005

The small boy stood eagerly on his porch, watching the deliveryman bring the large crate that he had wished for. Inside, he knew, would be all the wonderful things he had been told of and had come to desire so deeply. He opened the crate excitedly. It was so large. Out spilled all the wonderfully ornate, shiny baubles he expected. His eyes grew wide and he ooh-ed and ah-ed in complete amazement. These were all his and his alone, to do with as he pleased. Now they were all within his reach and his life could begin in earnest.

As he grew, the young man fondled and polished all the shiny accoutrements that he had wanted so early in his life. He noticed how some seemed to have lost their sheen with age. Others appeared to be cracked and nearly broken, but he was a prideful young man and nothing would take these things from him or demean them in any way while he still lived and breathed. They were still his and his alone.

The man grew older still. He was bitter now. None of what he had wished for in his life seemed of any consequence. Old habits die hard, however, and the tarnished baubles were still his and he still clung to them jealously, all the while hating them deeply.

The time came when the old man died and all of his worldly belongings were left behind to be sold cheaply to the next covetous young man who desired to accumulate all the world had to offer him. What the dead man took with him was a simple gravestone that marked his final resting place, soon to be forgotten by all but the groundskeeper.

Another small boy stood wide-eyed on his front porch. His box, too, had arrived. His mother and father handed it gently, almost reverently, to him. They took the time to explain the proper use of all the contents within his wonderful gift box and then bade him open it. With a sense of wonder and awe he carefully began to peel the ribbon from the small container that sat easily within one small hand. He could scarcely conceal his smile, so excited was he to be finally getting what he had been taught to so deeply desire above all else. The lid lifted away, the young man stepped into the full sunlight where he could more easily investigate the contents and to his great surprise, the light that was caught and reflected from the object within was nearly as bright as the sun itself. He shielded his eyes and squinted against the gleam of what appeared to be a beautiful cut diamond. His parents corrected him and explained that it was indeed a rare jewel, but no earthly diamond at all. It was far more valuable than anything so common as a diamond. The boy smiled, hugged his parents and promised to always cherish the gift throughout his life.

The young man had kept his promise and found that as he shared the beauty of his wonderful gift, an amazing thing happened-the shine seemed to get even more brilliant than before and would cast its light to greater and greater distances around him. All who came within the influence of his precious gift were touched and improved in some strange way. What tremendous delight this brought to the young man and all who knew him.

An old man had lived a long and fruitful life. He smiled as he thought back on all that had meant so much to him in this world. It seemed that everything he cherished most could not be bought with money or traded for insignificant worldly goods. What he most treasured were the moments of love and friendship with family and acquaintances. The memories of a lifetime graced the pages of his mind in the last few hours of his mortality, but before he went, he called to his side all of his children and grandchildren and with a shaking hand held aloft the same small box that his mother and father had delivered to him so many years ago. With wide eyes and awe-opened mouths, the family received from his lips the story that his parents had told him in his childhood. When he passed, they were sad to see him go, but knew that to a wonderful and very real extent he remained with them as much as ever. When he passed he took with him no more than the first man had taken. However, far more than the groundskeeper took notice of his passing. His name continued to be spoken within his town and in an ever-broadening circle, for generations thereafter.

The two men came into this life with the same opportunities. Neither had the advantage over the other, except in one thing. What made the difference? The teacher. The first young boy was turned loose without guidance to desire what the world would teach him were things to be prized above all else. He found later in his life that these were but empty and meaningless things that brought no comfort to him or to anyone else that he came in contact with. The second boy, so similar to the first, was taught that what he held was the power to make the world around him a better place, if he would but do so. He was taught that the power he wielded could be used for good or for evil and that it must be used wisely or it would destroy him and all who came into contact with it. He was shown that as he used wisdom, the gift would reach out to enlighten and guide the lives of others, who in turn would enlighten then more lives beyond theirs. So great was the love of this young boy for his first teachers that he carried that gift with reverence all his life, simply to honor their names with each use. And so great was the joy that it brought, he could not help but pass it on to those who had come to love him for his shining example of beauty and benevolence.

You see, we are all placed in this world with the self-same promise-that "nothing shall be withheld from them which they shall imagine to do". We hold within our hands the same gift, though to some it may appear large and to others small. Some trade it for baubles and beads that become mere trash and bring no lasting value to anyone, even their owners. Others learn the priorities of life and become a shining city on a hill, where none can hide the light from all who would draw near and truly see for the first time. You have that power to choose what you value most in life. You also have the power to become a revered teacher in your own right-to anyone you may touch in this life. The choice is yours. What do you wish?

I had an opportunity to view a marvelous painting the other day titled O'
Jerusalem. It was beautiful, the artist is Greg K. Olsen. These words
seemed to come out of it to me... Please forgive me if this doesn't qualify
as a poem. ray

Through the streets of the city, I silently made my way. Past closed
doorways, and shuttered windows, thick walls offering the comfort of
protection to those within; some followers, some not, that's not important,
I'll do what I came to do.

The wall of the city is just ahead now, but I won't be gone long. Just
a little while, a time for relaxing, and reflecting about what has happened,
and will soon be.

I stumble a little as I start up the path. It has been packed like the
rocks on the side by so many sandaled feet.

It is so peaceful on this mount just before dawn. No crowds, no jeering
or cheering, no pushing or shoving. I found an outcropping that overlooks
the city, and sat to watch as the lightening of the sky brought life to my
Jerusalem. The sun rose, it was so beautiful.

I could see the colors of the robes, the blankets as they hung out.

Oh, how I love these, my people, my children, my sheep. They know not
what they need, what only I can give.

What I do, I do for all, no one is excluded. If only they could
understand the gift, but no matter. If there is the slightest chance, if
only one in each million reaches out to grasp my hand, it is worth all this.
Oh, that all would accept freely of my gift of life.

My friends, my children, down there below in my beautiful Jerusalem,
soon you will waken; if only you would awaken to the love that I and our
Father have for you.

You have heard my words, how long shall you remember them? How long
after I go will you remember me? Will you care for my mother? For I will
leave you soon, but the time will come that we shall again hold each other
and express our joy for the reunion.

Ah, Jerusalem, such a grand city now, golden in the morning sun. How I
love thee, yet must I weep for what you face.

Look for me to return, and as I set my foot on this Mount of Olives, it
shall split in twain, and you will know it is I who stands before you.

Now I must rise, to return once again to the city below. I spend what
time I may among those I love, for I do love you all.

[Even so do I now look upon the earth, and I weep, for I know what is to
come. Reach out thine hand, and I shall be there.]

I could hardly believe how windy it was today
Much too windy to let the children go out to play
Limbs of the big ol' trees were waving left and right
Yes, for man or beast, it was really quite a sight

Most people think the wind controls branches of the trees
But I'd like to provide you a little insight if you please
The trees are really quite intelligent and devious you know
They learn self preservation the very minute they begin to grow

In times of drought they can get downright mean
Woe to the critter who against the trunk doth lean
It's during those desperate times they conjure up the wind
Waving limbs and branches lure the dogs, their water to lend

But one dogs full load, to the tree is just a trickle
Trees need many more to get them out of this pickle
A good shady spot with a wide sturdy trunk, an offered invitation
I've seen two or three waiting in line, give that tree an ovation

But things sometimes get really tough for the trees
Some turn extremely mean, you can't tell which by their leaves
But I saw the proof, I knew what happened, I could hear the tones
When a big st. bernard lifted his leg, the tree sucked him dry, leaving only
a hairy bag of bones

So before you wander in the woods during a drought
Make sure your bladder's empty enough to get you all the way out

“Cayce, Cayce, help me!”

Cayce could see his friend tearing down the road toward him. McConnell was yelling at the top of his lungs, arms flailing as if trying to swim through the hot, high desert air. His right hand kept dropping down to tug back up his sagging sweat pants.

“Quick, Cayce, you’ve got to hide me. My sisters are going to make me do the dishes. I’d die before I let them make me do a girl’s job.”

“Calm down, Mac, you’re working yourself into a rash.” Although nearly a year younger, Cayce was a full fifteen inches taller than his best friend. Where do you want to hide, in the hut we made in the plum bushes?”

Mac mopped his sweat-streaked face with his grimy red T-shirt. He looked up at Cayce with a hurt look. “Are you trying to get me dish-pan hands? You know the first place they always look for me is at your house. Cayce! They’re going to make me do the dishes!”

“Hey, I know. Dad told me of a place. It’s called Little Grand Canyon. It’s up in the foothills. Your sisters won’t come up there. There’s lizards, snakes, mice, dirt and all sorts of things to scare girls.”

“Yeah, Cayce, that sounds perfect. Hurry, let’s go.”

“We’ve got to follow the old dry ditch bed, so we don’t get lost. Dad said Little Grand is about four miles up. Your sisters will never be able to get that far. We have to go through a place Dad called the swimming hole.” Cayce thought Mac’s sisters, and all girls were scared of things like that.

Cayce glanced back, Mac’s legs were almost a blur as he tried to keep up to his own longer stride. The two blocks to the ditch bank seemed like a mile. They climbed the steep bank and were about to drop down into the deep bed.

“McConnell!” bellowed two loud voices. The sisters were hot on their trail.

Cayce was amazed at the power of those short legs as they reacted to the yell from below. They propelled his friend almost completely over the stream bed. Mac scraped his knee on a big rock and landed headfirst in a huge green sagebrush. Cayce watched helplessly as his friend immediately broke out in a fit of sneezing. The dusty aromatic scent of the sage was overpowering.

“Come on, Mac. We’ve got to out-run them now,” said Cayce.

He helped Mac back out of the brush. Cayce could see that Mac was bleeding slightly from a dozen brush scratches, and limping noticeably.

“Hey, Cayce, slow down. I don’t want to lose sight of you.” Cayce paled as Mac’s pleading voice triggered guilt in him.

“I’ll check on your sisters while you catch up.” Cayce was amazed. Girls shouldn’t be able to run so fast. “Mac, we can’t outrun them. They’re too fast! They have already reached the ditch bank!”

“Yeow! They’ll grab me by the toes and drag me all the way home. I’ll be dead by the time they get me there.” Mac was so intent on looking back for his sisters to come into view, he didn’t see the big pile of dead cedars. Cayce had to cover his eyes as Mac ran headlong into them. Now Mac was covered with more scratches and cuts. There was blood showing on both arms, and all over his face.

Cayce thought that even Mac’s sisters would feel sorry for him if they could see him now.

“Mac, do you think we should go back?” He looked at his friend, who was sweat-streaked, dirty, bloody, with one leg of his old sweats torn completely off. Cayce was really worried that his friend couldn’t keep up this pace.

“Cayce, get down here in the ditch. What are you waiting for? They’re not going to get me this time.”

“You’ve said that before, Mac.” A familiar determined scowl formed on Mac’s face. Cayce had to pinch himself not to show a grin.

“How far do we have to go?” McConnell now had a worried look on his face.

Cayce pointed far ahead at some big trees . “Those trees are where the swimming hole used to be. Little Grand is about three times that far.” Cayce was sure of the directions his dad had given him.

“Way over there?” Mac’s voice had become hushed. “And we have to cross that big open space? Oh boy, I’m dead.” He could hear the girls closing in on them now. He sat down and rested his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands.

“Cayce! Look!” Mac gestured at the base of a huge squaw-berry bush. A large yellow and black blow snake was stretched out, sunning itself in the warmth. “My sisters won’t dare go close to that. We can hide around on the other side until they go by.”

“Okay, we better hurry,” said Cayce. Quickly they scampered around the thick bush.

It was only a matter of seconds until they heard the girls go huffing and puffing by. “Hurry up Larcy. We’re going to lose them. I’ll teach that lazy little rascal to run from us,” Cayce could see Mac shudder at the sound of Kate’s voice.

“He’ll do dishes every day for a week,” declared Larcy.

Cayce could feel Mac’s fist tighten on his arm as their pursuers raced by. To his total amazement, they glanced at the snake, but paid no other attention to it, even though Kate’s foot came within inches of the head. Weren’t the girls afraid of the snake? Then Cayce had another thought. Maybe girls weren’t so different after all. Maybe doing dishes wasn’t just a girl’s job.

Cayce offered Mac a possible solution. “Let them get out of sight, then we’ll double back. Maybe you’ll have time to finish the dishes by the time they return.”

This time the scowl that rolled over Mac’s face could have curdled milk. “I guess so. It would be better than having my toes pulled off.”

Shoulders drooping, the two friends headed back to
town. Cayce put his long arm around Mac’s shoulders. “I’ll help you with the dishes.”

A bright smile returned to Mac’s face.

The dishes were quickly finished. “That really wasn’t too bad,” said Mac. “It sure beat being dragged by my toes. But all these scratches sure burned in the dishwater. Hey, here come my sisters. They sure are sweaty and dirty. Let’s get in front of the TV and pretend we’ve been here all the time.”

“Yeah,” said Cayce, “let’s see how long it takes them to notice the dishes. It must have been someone else they’ve been chasing, huh? Hey, look, Kate’s got that snake around her wrist like a bracelet. She’s awesome. I didn’t know girls could be like boys.”

"But, dad, I hate peas," Oriana moaned, moving the little green legumes around her plate with a reluctant fork.

Ezekiel sighed in exasperation. "How do you expect to grow up to be a big strong geologist if you don't eat your peas?"

"Well, dad, if that's the secret to growing big, then it's obvious that Ingo Schmidt never--"

"Oriana," her father warned.

Oriana changed her tact slightly. "He's the best geologist on board the ship, dad, but according to his size and your legume theory, then his upbringing must have been entirely pea-less."

Her father didn't answer, just gave her The Look.

"So I don't see what eating peas has got to do with geology."

"It has to do with eating the food that's grown on this ship and available for consumption," Ezekiel growled. "Legumes provide protein, so if we grow peas, and peas are on the menu, you eat peas, understood?"

He raised his voice on the last word so suddenly and so loudly that Oriana was startled into jerking her fork. Two peas flew off her plate and landed on the floor.

"Sorry, dad," Oriana whispered.

"Pick them up," Ezekiel said. "We don't waste food, no matter how small it is."

Under her father's stern gaze, Oriana leaned down to retrieve the peas, hoping to find them without mashing them into the carpet. She had barely located them, however, when something black and furry moved into her vision, inspected the peas with a quivering nose, and ate them both. Rosie the cat then glanced up at her with shiny, hopeful eyes.

Silently rejoicing at the unexpected help, Oriana pulled herself back up to a sitting position and glanced sneakily at her father, then launched two more peas over the edge of the table. She could see Rosie moving happily to intercept them, and hastily flicked a few more in the cat's direction.

She was just about to scrape her fork again when Ezekiel looked at her abruptly, and she froze, trying as hard as she could to look innocent.

"Oriana, if you want to go up to the geology lab this evening, I suggest you get on with it," Ezekiel said.

"Yes, dad," Oriana replied dutifully, wondering why her father always scheduled her favourite outings for the days that peas were on the menu. She'd been born on board the ship and had never seen a real planet. All the gardens and farms were as familiar to her as her own quarters, so any new rocks or clumps of metal that the scientists gathered from comets or asteroids or other objects in space were exciting and mysterious. Reminded of the lab, Oriana began to think of all the wonderful things she could do to peas with the equipment available there.

"Dad," she asked, trying to distract him. "Do you think we'll ever find a real planet, one that we can land the ship on?"

Ezekiel sighed. "Yes, I do, but the real question is when, Oriana, and for that question, I don't have an answer. All I can say is, eventually we will, and now get back to those peas."

Oriana sighed. The cat was still at her leg, waiting with much more patience than Oriana could ever achieve. Eventually, her father glanced away and Oriana sent a little avalanche of peas off the side of her plate to land at her feet. Stabbing one pea on her fork, Oriana lifted it to her lips, pretended to eat it, then dropped her hand to her side and gave it a little shake. The food had barely hit the floor before Rosie pounced on it.

There were about ten peas left. Oriana moved her fork around them in different patterns, shooting them to the cat one at a time. She'd worked her way down to the last one when Ezekiel suddenly stood up. "Oriana Schaefer, are you throwing those peas on the floor?"

"Dad!" was all Oriana could exclaim. "I--uh--you can look! There aren't any peas on the floor!"

Ezekiel came around the table and glanced down, his face simply radiating suspicion. But Oriana was right, there was not a single green ball on the floor. Rosie, however, came out from under the table and gave Ezekiel her best begging look. After a moment, Oriana saw the mistrust fade from her father's face, to be replaced by sheer fondness as he regarded the family pet. Sighing mentally in relief, Oriana slumped back in her chair.

"There's still one left on your plate, Oriana," Ezekiel observed, sitting down again. Oriana moved the pea to the back of her mouth as quickly as she could and swallowed it without chewing or even tasting it. "All done, dad! Let's get down to the lab!"

As they stood up, Oriana congratulated herself mentally on her successful strategy until Ezekiel said, "We will have peas again to-morrow, my protein-deprived daughter, and while we eat, that cat will stay in the other room."

The End