| The flag pole in the back yard is
bare and showing signs of rust. The white paint gleams no more,
and the proud whipping of the banner in the wind is only a
memory. The back yard gate is ajar and the "Beware of Dog" sign
is askew and barely legible. The ramshackle dog house bears
testament that, once, the area once had a sizable guardian. The hedges bordering the yard have been cut back, making them scraggly, unattractive, and revealing years of accumulate debris. The few buds and flowers that remain struggle for survival. Life goes on. Someone, within a week or so, has cut the lawn, and while not perfectly neat, the property does not appear totally abandoned. But the house is empty. An empty house has a look. Is dejected the word? A house needs life and activity. A house needs people filled with goals, love and laughter. A house needs to be occupied. In the evening, if you look closely, you might imagine that you see and older man, neatly trimmed beard, sitting on a porch glider, smoking a curved pipe. At his feet sits a German Shepherd, alert, enjoying the presence of his "master" and the gentle caress of the hand on his head. His tail lazily thumps the ground. Beware of dog? Maybe. He is strong, alert and intelligent. Ill intent could be met with fang and claw, but it is a peaceful moment, a contented time. In imagination, the flag pole in back would be gleaming, enamel white, and the American flag would be snapping in the breeze. If you take the time to look, there would be a Marine Corps emblem above the mail box next to the door. The man on the imaginary glider would have a faint military bearing, and though peaceful, his countenance would be reminiscent of past pain and pride. You might speculate about what wonders and horrors he'd seen and what service he'd given to his country. The flag and emblem clearly show his pride at having served and his loyalty to his nation. Was there a wife, a love of his life? Where there children, the result of a loving union? Now, there is a flag, a dog and a pipe. In imagination. Reality: there are dead plants in flower pots sitting on the porch. The glider of imagination is rust spots on the concrete porch. The dead, dry plants, they are here and now. The loyal dog, conjecture only, based on a dilapidated dog house in the back yard. But dogs are loyal and loving. Plants show the urge to nourish life and enjoy the beauty of their blooms. The flag pole in the back yard does demonstrate the desire to show patriotism and pride of service. A glider on the porch is used by someone who will take the time to slow down, to relax, to contemplate the events of a day, the events of a life time. These little things, these remnants of a life, do have meaning and are the fabric of our being. The house is empty. For the moment, abandoned, as are the hopes and dreams of prior inhabitants. Tomorrow, someone may come and pound a for sale sign into the front lawn, and sometime later, a couple may move in, all excited and filled with plans for the future. They will build, grow and nurture their family and future. Maybe they will even chip the peeling paint from the old flag pole out back and give it a new coat of white enamel. Perhaps, again, a proud flag will fly. The bushes, at the edge of the property, will grow back, and with a little care, will be as beautiful as they ever were, and there is plenty of room on the front porch for another glider. The back yard can be a happy place for a dog of almost any size. Life can and will go on. The cycle continues. But tonight, an old soldier guards an empty house. |