On The Mountaintop

Copyright 2010 K. Omodele

I have a Bredren who thinks I am madder than one a them running [of the] bulls because I love morning time alone on top of Stone Mountain. And I am ecstatic sharing time on a swing with my little niece. He doesn’t really comprehend how much I enjoyed pedal boats with my cousin (and two Sistren). He doesn’t choose to feel the sense of urgency I have in creating moments. And that’s cool, he and I have different perspectives when it comes to the passage of time – we look at life through different spectacles.

I have missed out on moments that many people my age have experienced: high school proms/ dances/ fetes; getting married; a son’s/daughter’s birth; a first word, first step, first day at school. But on the other hand, there are no ex-wives lurking, no all he money (alimony), and no support payments due of any kind.

There’s much that I’ve missed, so right now I am considering moments like a canvass and creating masterpieces. Them damn pedal boats had me sweating like a Preakness stallion, but guess what? I savored the whole scene the way an accident survivor appreciates life after avoiding that “bright Light.” Some of the things I’ve experienced since I “came home” I never thought of doing…EVER! Like visiting a winery (and I don’t mean a dance hall); and meditating on Stone Mountain top. I danced with my aunt and her friends at de Luna’s (a Spanish, as in Spaniard, lounge). I realize these are not things that the average person would write home about, but my reality three years ago was hard like a flogging…HARD like iron bars…I mean HARD like penitentiary yards. So I man give thanks and praises to the Almighty for seeing me through. And though I cannot promise HIM that I will be the perfect son, an Ingel on earth nor unwavering in spirit, I do promise to notice his beautiful WORKS – the burning sunset; the bright moon suspended against a deep purple back drop glittering with tightly-scattered stars; an ebony Empress and her breath-snatching smile; my pushing-ninety granny with her life-pleated skin and sly, twinkling eyes; and the way I feel, high, on top of Stone Mountain after hauling myself out of the depths within the beast.

Bredren, you’ll never catch the exhilaration painted in a passing moment until you are forced to stare at time frozen stiff.

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