SeizureSeizure...uneven, my rapid breaths, clenching me in fear's talonsmy thoughts bleeding out into salty streams of yielding...pooling in my ears - a deafening silence... like the reaper'sbony fingers, gripping me in a stranglehold of panicam i screaming? or dreaming? or in some kind of denial coma?memory is a mirage, strangely distant and alluring...with colors eerily blending, like impressionismsound is tense... a staccato rhythm, pounding out the beatof intelligent design... my own anatomical percussion...bemusing me... then, amusing me... am i smiling?awareness beckons...panic yields his grip to curiosity (my old familiar friend)i welcome him in and take a deep breath... one more grasping minutehas it been an hour? what time is it?painless but numb... my vision finding new clarity... i considerthe stark ceiling above me... with lines of architecture, strangely...pleasing and impressive... why am i on the floor?i need to get up... my fingers flex in wary preparation, m
I Still Believe In SantaI Still Believe In Santaby Dauna BeutelI've seen the rotund pretenders and sat upon disingenuous knees.I've tugged the glue off cotton beards and stood in line, to please.But, I still believe in Santa, his reindeer and his sleigh…his jolly self... his toys, his elves... and every year I say...Dear Santa, please remember us, we grown-up children now.You see, childhood dreams aren't practical and we often lose...life's magic... somehow.I do believe in Jesus and celebrate his birth!But, I also cherish childhood joy and hold on to its mirth.So please, don't ever retire, I'm 46 and counting.Yes, Christmastime is worshipful; I'm grateful for God's bounty!But, I'll be sure to thank Him also, with a nod and winking...that you're the spirit of childhood glee!What are grown-ups thinking?