Sweet Southern Security

Sweet Southern Security Sprawling shady oak trees, tall slender pine trees with jutting needles, and broad whispering magnolia trees towering above as the bright moonlight filters through their waving restless limbs and leaves, mirroring the silvery liquid mercury motions of the warm Atlantic Ocean. The sweet intoxication of the aromatic floral vapors of gardenia and magnolia fusing with the spicy scent of pine sap from a fallen limb, calms my soul and brings me peace, as a brisk wind ruffles through my hair. Slowly rocking in an old knotty pine rocker, back and forth, sipping a smooth glass of bourbon in an introspective state of mind, gazing at the dancing motions of the liquid waves as a rush of warmth from the bourbon courses through my veins. Protective Liberty, the black Great Dane, barks at the cars buzzing by her street, warning them to get the hell away, far from her gate, her house, her family. Chitter-chatter of the crickets, and the throaty croaking pleas of the restless frogs in the neighboring forest pond, brings ambiance to this southern spring evening. The tranquility of this hypnotic setting and the feeling of security from this old clapboard cottage that wraps around me like a tattered family quilt, takes me back to the security of the home that I left only a few years ago. Taking this moment alone to acknowledge all that I lost the day I left my home, reflecting on how much grieving that day’s caused me since having to walk away from a life I truly loved and enjoyed. Being here tonight brings me hope that one day I’ll find my sense of security again.