Mystical Magical Moments

Laon: The Scene The early morning fog swirled around the base of the deep green poplar trees standing tall and majestically at the top of the rise. Removing my sweater, tying it around my waist and wiping the perspiration from my upper lip, I sighed with relief dropping to the seat. I reached into my clutch for the francs necessary to pay for the privilege of resting on the aged, scroll-worked, iron bench. The caretaker, an erect, uniformed, ‘fiftyish’ man, received the francs with stiff somewhat disapproving politeness while murmuring a short “merci”. As I caught my breath from the long climb, my gaze dropped to the ancient cobblestones at my feet. The cobblestones, a multi-colored puzzle of grays reached across the plaza to the Medieval Gothic style church. Black mildewed bullet holes still riddled the enormous stone structure. I shifted my scrutiny skyward to the Rosetta stained glass window, amazingly still intact after centuries of wars. Here at the top of the crag...

Daddy Above the huge shiny black clodhoppers all she could see was the field of green fatigues he wore. Her little bare feet fit perfectly on the tops of the boots, and he held her hands with her arms outstretched wide as they danced around the living room to one song after another -- She was never too tired after a full day of play to dance with her daddy. He smelled uniquely of aircraft oil and Old Spice, a combination she'll never forget and how Daddy was never too tired to dance with his little girl after a day of tending the F-4's that shook the ground and vibrated her innards when they roared into the sky.