a story, or something. . .

[dpbluc3]

INTRO

I was looking through my PIF an UPRG files today. These are Air Force folders that contain various papers and documents on my career. As I flipped the pages, my thoughts started to drift to the moment I stepped in that recruiters office. The smell of old carpet and damp wooden desks filled my nostrils as I opened the glass door. I passed the Army recruiters, I glanced at the Navy Office, I walked right by the Marine Corps recruiter and started my climb up the stairs. The Air Force Office was located on the second floor. Aim High! That's the Air Force motto.
I was greeted by a young, black woman as soon as my fet reached the last stair. Her smiling, energetic face went well with her highly decorated blue uniform. I thought to myself, THIS is what I want to do. So, I sat on the putrid green couch and watched a video.
"This will give you a pretty good picture of what you are getting into," The recruiter said through her gleaming smile.
It lasted about 20 minutes. I saw everything from guns to Airplanes. I must admit it was an inspirational video. I was pumped and ready to be an Air Force recruit by the time I finally sat down in her office and started disussing education, interests, and goals that I had made for myself. If I didn't know better I would say there were hidden subliminal messages in that video. But, I knew as soon as my eyes opened that morning, I was going to join the Airforce.


That was a year and a half ago. Now, as I look over my record and read my promotion letters, my LOC, and my recent LOR, I am forced to realize again just how painfully fast, and drastically life changes.


* * *

PART ONE


The sunset was beautiful last night. I watched the colors explode in the sky as I sat on the beach. The waves rolled rhythmically towards the rocks and covered the coral as they crashed against the shore line. I lifted the bottle I was drinking; Gordon Beirch "pilsner" beer; and I toasted to the ocean. I toasted it's strength. I toasted it's beauty and it's power. I toasted the perplexity of it's many depths and I toasted it's silence. Sitting alone for the first time in a long while, I took in a breath of fresh air. It felt magnificent.
So, for a little while, I laughed at the good times, and smiled at the fond memories that were running through my head and filling up my heart. Soemwhere through all that pain, through every tear falling from my cheeks, there was hope.
Hope. Something I have been so deathly afraid to feel, was surrounding me while I rested peacfully on the edge of the ocean. It was touching me gently while the wind brushed against my skin. Stinging softly whith the droplets of salt water that splashed against my face.
So, I let myself stand on that piece of coral. Looking down as the waves splashed only inches from my toes. My smile slowly became a blank stare, and I quickly remembered the life I was living. My train of thought turned to memories and words that were spoken only a few months before. I stood there and remembered, as tears welled up in my eyes. . .


-----"You and me. . . we are like the ocean waves that crash against the rocks standing so strong. Your persistance is the rush of water that tears away layers of the stone and coral. I, am the stone that quietly wastes away into the ocean." When she said these words to me, though I tried to rationalize it, for the first time. . . I started to understand, and I thought long and hard about what I had become and how selfish I was being.
"But, you see those rocks down there?" I spoke softly as I turned to show her. "How long do you think they have been there?"
She looked at me, then the rocks, then me again. And before she could answer, I started with my response.
"Those rocks and stones have probably been there hundreds of years, and though they are much smaller from the wear and tear of the ocean waves, they still stand as strong as ever waiting to greet the water every time it brushes against a curve, an indention or even fills a tiny crack in the worn stone."
Her reply was simple, yet well understood.
"But baby, look at how ugly they are. . . "-------


I gently wiped the tears before they fell onto the sand. And I hadn't realized that I stepped off the coral. The water reached so persistantly for my feet that were planted in the sand. And I must have stood there for almost ten minutes.
The sun had gone down. I was left with the light glow of pastels illuminating everything around me. I again tipped my drink to the ocean and toasted. I toasted to love. . . in Hawaii.

--------------------------------------------
". . . love knows not it's own depth,
until the hour of seperation."

Kahil Gibran

[Branflakes]

Interesting story. I wasn't expecting that ending. I like the rock description.

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Branflakes, the ninja lesbian milk getter.
The one called "brain" and "brainflakes" and....
Officially declared "cute".
"One thing I've never been is straight, dear girl." Katchoo, SiP
I'm tired of the silent majority. Silence equals death.

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