MUSIC
I found a note taped to the top of the first box of albums. It read:
Keep your music close. It will bring good things to you.
-Ellis
It reminded me of something Uncle Ellis told me back when I was in college. This was about two months before Mom passed away. She was pretty sick then, and as usual, no one knew how to get in touch with Uncle Ellis. He never seemed to be in any one place for more than a few months. But then one day he just showed up.
I opened the front door to check mom’s mail and there he was, strolling up the walkway in faded bellbottom jeans and a plaid flannel shirt, with a leather backpack that looked like it had been around since the Pony Express slung over one shoulder. He wore the same dreadlocks he’d worn as long as I could remember. The only thing different was that I could see was a few strands of gray interlacing his black braids.
He stepped up onto the porch, shook my hand and grabbed me in a bear hug. “How’s my sister?” he asked. For one of the few times in my memory, Uncle Ellis wasn’t smiling.
I don’t know how he knew. Like I said, nobody knew where he was or how to get in touch with him. But here he was showing up right on time as he always did.
He spent most of the morning up in my mother’s room. After lunch we sat out on the front porch, with me on a patio chair and Uncle Ellis in Mom’s straight-backed rocker. We talked; mostly him asking me how things were in college and him commenting a few times about how proud Mom was of me, and how proud he was of me.
We had a spell were we didn’t say anything at all, and then he asked me, “If you had to associate your favorite memory of a song with your mom, what song would it be, and why?”
I thought about that for a minute, and then answered, Love or Let Me Be Lonely by The Friends of Distinction. I remember her in the kitchen when I was a little kid. She was making cookies, I think, and that song came on the radio. Mom liked that song, and she started dancing and singing along with it as she did her thing with the cookies.” Reliving that memory got me a little choked up. My voice trembled as I added, “That was a good day.”
Uncle Ellis nodded at me. “Yeah, I remember that jam,” he said. He rubbed the stubble on his chin and gazed up at the clouds, and began rocking slowly back and forth.
His eyes had a far away look, as if he was seeing something far beyond those clouds, something in his mind’s eye. He started humming the tune, and a slow smile spread over his face.
I watched my uncle as he lost himself in a place I could never go. His humming turned into singing, and he went through the chorus in a voice barely more than a whisper.
He wasn’t singing for my benefit – he was singing to himself. He wasn’t with me on the porch anymore. The song had taken him somewhere else.
When he was done, still rocking, he muttered a soft, “Yeah.” I could tell that he wasn’t talking to me, but to something inside himself. Then he looked at me and said, “That was a good song, nephew.”
“Yeah, it was,” I said.
He stopped rocking and leaned toward me. “Always remember music,” he said. “Music is the soundtrack of your existence. It provides the bookmarks in the novel of your life. When you’re having good times, always remember the music that was playing. Then in the years to come, whenever you hear those songs, it’ll be like opening up that book to a favorite chapter in your life and reliving that moment all over again. My nephew…my brother, keep your music in your heart and soul. If you do, the precious memories of your life will never leave you. If you keep your music close, good things will come to you.”
**********
Remembering that day on my mother’s front porch, I remember thinking at the time that I thought Uncle Ellis was just talking some of the crazy talk my mom said he did when he was smoking ‘that stuff.’
But today as I opened the boxes of records he’d left me and placed them on the shelves in my apartment it didn’t seem so crazy. Looking at all those old album covers was like looking at old family photographs…like reliving my life. There was so much nostalgia associated with the images; so many memories associated with the songs.
I came across The Fifth Dimension’s Greatest Hits. One of the listed tunes was Aquarius – Let the Sunshine In. I remembered the home video of Uncle Ellis and his hippie friends from back in the day, hamming it up, singing that song for the camera. That memory made me smile. All of a sudden I was very glad that I’d hung on to my old turntable. I fired up my stereo and put the album on.
I sang along with the music as I unpacked the rest of the records and put them up. I had the volume cranked, so at first I didn’t hear the knocking on my apartment door. When I did, I turned the volume down fast. I must have been disturbing one of my neighbors. I went to the door, preparing to offer my apologies.
A twenty-something sister stood on the balcony outside my door. She was cute, but what struck me at first was that her hair was styled in an Afro. Then I noticed that she wore gold hoop earrings, a tank top and faded bellbottom jeans. Who the heck dressed like that these days?
She didn’t look annoyed at all, but greeted me with a smile full of sunshine. I couldn’t help smiling back. There was something about her.
“Hi, she beamed. “I’m Angie. I’m moving in next door, and I heard your music playing – Aquarius. I’m like, ‘Oh my God – who’s playing that?’ I love that song! It’s so classic, you know?”
As I stood in my doorway looking at this angel who seemed to have stepped out of the past I remembered the note left to me by my late Uncle Ellis:
“Keep your music close. It will bring good things to you”
Rest in peace, Uncle Ellis, and thank you.
© 2006/2008
Christopher Bynum
www.christopherbynum.com
Uncle Ellis thought I should take a year off after high school to see the world before I got caught up in “the system.” I agreed wholeheartedly, not so much because I agreed with him but because I was sick of school.
My mother was dead set against it, of course. Uncle Ellis argued that “The boy is going to spend the reset of his life studying and then working for the man. He deserves one year for himself, one year to just be himself. He’s your son, Eileen. You should give him at least that much.”
During the day long debate I managed to look sufficiently pitiful and nod my head in agreement with every point Uncle Ellis made. By dinnertime Mom was beaten. And so, on a sunny day in late June, Uncle Ellis and I began our summer road tour of America.
We drove my beat up 1977 Dodge Aspen. It wasn’t much to look at, but it was my pride and joy, my reward for working part time jobs after school and on weekends during my junior and senior years in high school. It was a good thing I had a car because Uncle Ellis didn’t. In fact, I’ve never known him to ever own a car. He drove the first 600 miles, out of New Jersey through Pennsylvania. I think we were about a hundred miles into the trip before I thought to ask him if he had a driver’s license.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
About Love (A Christmas Tale)
About Love
By Christopher Bynum
Mapleton North Carolina, 1955
Joshua walked down the dirt road, his aching feet dragging, his battered work boots kicking up dust. The dust didn’t matter. He was already so dirty and sweaty that it was going to take three baths before he felt anywhere close to being clean again.
His legs and thighs ached, but that ache was nothing compared to the agony in his back and shoulders. He wiped his brow with his dirty handkerchief and gazed toward the heavens. The summer sun was low in the sky, signaling the onset of night, but still the late day heat was stifling.
Lord, give me strength…
This was his first day on the job – twelve hours breaking his back in the tobacco fields under the sweltering sun. Every muscle in his body cried out for him not to go back tomorrow, to find some easier way to earn a living. But there was no other way. And he was thankful just to have the job.
There’d been some news today that there might be trouble coming. Some woman down in Alabama had refused to give up her seat on the bus to a white man and she’d been locked up for her trouble. Folks around these parts were worried that just to make sure nobody starting getting any ideas here in Hertford County the nightriders might make an example out of somebody. So everybody in the fields today was nervous. And nobody slacked off on the job.
He’d been walking for over two hours, and finally his little house came into view around the bend. It wasn’t much – just two rooms and an outhouse – but it was home. Their first home. He rented the place from the same man in whose fields he’d spent this day breaking his back. The place needed some work, starting off with patching the hole in the tin roof before the next rain. He figured he’d get to that tonight after supper.
Lord, I’m so tired.
Now that home was in sight his aching body felt as if it wanted to give up. He felt like he could just fall out right here and lay his head in the dirt and sleep his life away.
But he kept walking.
He thought about how hard this day had been, and that all he had to look forward to was more days and weeks and months and years like this one, days in which he worked his body until he had nothing left. He thought about getting up tomorrow and the next morning, six days a week, to do it all over again. That’s how his father had lived his life, and his father before him. And that was what he had to look forward to.
He was a man, but the thought made Joshua blink back tears of despair.
Lord, why have you made my life so hard?
As he limped into his front yard the aroma of skillet fried pork chops, collard greens seasoned with fatback and fresh hot cornbread greeted him. His stomach rumbled a return call.
The front door was open, and as he reached the house she stepped out onto the creaky wooden porch. His heart jumped in his chest, and his despairing rinsed away like sand in a rainstorm
His wife Rose wore a faded hand-me-down calico dress under a worn apron in which she wiped her hands. Her coal black hair was pulled back from her beautiful brown face, which glistened with perspiration. She’d probably been cooking all afternoon on that wood-burning stove. Joshua figured it had to be hot in that house, as hot in there for her as it had been for him out in the fields. Still, when their eyes met she greeted him with a smile.
In spite of his sore feet and legs his stride lengthened and quickened, and in two steps he was on the porch and sweeping her up into his arms.
As he hugged and kissed his new bride he forgot his exhaustion and the ache in his muscles. He forgot his despair. If he had to toil for the rest of his days in fields of fire in the pit of hell it was worth it.
It was worth it because she was worth it.
© 2005 Christopher Bynum
**********
About Love pt. 2
Long Branch, New Jersey
December 1963
“Look Rosie, it’s starting to snow!” Mrs. Porter exclaimed. She was so excited that for a moment she took her hands off the steering wheel.
Rose tensed in the passenger seat and mentally prayed that this fool wouldn’t kill them. She didn’t want to die, especially right before Christmas.
It was five years since Joshua brought them up from North Carolina to New Jersey, and in those five years she’d ridden in cars more than she had in her entire twenty-one years of life previously. But Rose still couldn’t get used to Mrs. Porter’s driving. It was a wonder they gave the woman a driver’s license.
To Rose’s great relief Mrs. Porter grabbed the wheel and stopped the car just before they reached the red light at the corner of Third Avenue and Broadway. Another foot and they would have been in the boot of that big old Chrysler Imperial in front of them at the light.
“It will be so nice to have snow this Christmas,” Mrs. Porter said. “Did you have much snow at Christmas in North Carolina?”
“No, not too much,” Rose said. She was proud that she’d remembered not to stick a “ma’am” at the end of her answer. She’d noticed that up here in New Jersey colored folks didn’t call white folks “sir” and “ma’am” just because they were white.
They turned off Third Avenue onto downtown Broadway. It was evening, and the street was lit up with Christmas lights. Decorations hung on the lamp posts. Shoppers hurried up and down and across the street amidst the gently falling snowflakes, skittering in and out of stores like bees buzzing around their hives.
To Rose the scene looked like something out of one of those nice old holiday movies. The spirit of Christmas swelled within her breast. She hoped that Joshua would be home in time to celebrate Christmas with her and the children. If he wasn’t back from his trip in time it would be the first Christmas in their eight years of marriage that they’d be apart.
“This is so lovely,” Mrs. Porter sighed. “Lord knows we need something cheerful in our lives after all that’s happened lately. Can you believe it’s been a month since they killed the President in Dallas?”
“It seems like it happened yesterday,” Rose said. She answered her employer but her mind was on her husband, who was on the road for his company delivering aluminum doors and windows.
They turned off Broadway onto Liberty Street, and two blocks later onto Monmouth Avenue. Rose gathered up her things as they neared her house. As Mrs. Porter pulled to a stop at the curb Rose said, “Thank you for the ride, Mrs. Porter.”
Even though they’d taken this same ride five days a week for the last four years, Rose didn’t think it hurt to show appreciation. She still remembered how Joshua walked for miles to and from the fields every day when they lived in North Carolina. Old Mr. Jenkins would never have thought to give any colored worker a ride home.
“It’s my pleasure Rosie,” Mrs. Porter said. “I really appreciate all you’ve done for me. “In fact, Mr. Porter and I decided that we really ought to show our appreciation for all your hard work by giving you a Christmas bonus this year.”
From her purse she extracted a crisp fifty dollar bill and handed it to Rose.
Rose stared in shock at the money. This was twice as much as she made in a week cooking and cleaning for the Porter family.
This year for Christmas she and Joshua had bought a new set of cap pistols for Little Josh and a doll for baby Carol. There were still two days to go before Christmas. With this money she could buy them more toys, and get something nice for Joshua, who worked so hard to support them.
Rose fought to contain her emotions. “Mrs. Porter, thank you. We all thank you so much,” she said.
Mrs. Porter patted her hand. “Think nothing of it, dear. As I said, we really do appreciate all you do for us. And that’s something else, Rosie. I do wish you would call me Ruth. After all, I consider us friends.”
Rose went up the walk to the house blinking tears from her eyes. The Lord sure was good to them. After all their struggles in the south He’d seen His way to guide them up north to a better way of life. Now if only He could find a way to bring Joshua home before Christmas.
Nessie Thompson lived in the upstairs half of the house they rented.Nessie watched the children while she and Joshua were at work. Rose decided that she’d go into her own house and take off her coat and rest her feet for a minute before she went up to get the children. But when she opened the door to her living room Joshua was standing right there in front of the Christmas tree, holding Little Josh and Carol in each of his strong arms. He was grinning at her from ear to ear.
“Merry Christmas, Baby,” he beamed.
She didn’t remember running across the room to her family, and didn’t know how Joshua managed to hug her while still holding their children. But Joshua had always managed to take care of his family, whether it was suffering in the sun in the tobacco and cotton fields or finding a way to move them north to a better life. So she wasn’t surprised at anything he managed to accomplish for them.
“How did you get home?” she said into his chest.
“By driving that danged truck like I was in the Pony Express,” he said. “The boss was surprised to see me back so soon. I told him don’t get used to it, but ain’t no way I’m gonna be away from my woman and my babies for Christmas.”
Unable to speak, Rose just hugged her man tighter.
Joshua said, “And guess what, Baby? The boss appreciated me working so hard and fast, so he gave me a fifty dollar bonus on top of my pay. Now don’t that beat all?”
“Yes Honey, that’s just about beats all,” she said. “Now come on and sit down. I’m gonna make some pork chops and collards and corn bread.”
Joshua smiled even harder. “Just like the old days, huh Baby?”
Rose handed him the fifty dollar bill given to her by Mrs. Porter. “No husband, nothing is like the old days. I want to thank you for that – for giving us a better life.”
Joshua looked down at his wife. He remembered that hot summer day eight years ago when he’d felt so tired and helpless thinking about the future. He remembered Rose coming out onto the porch, sweating from her day over the stove.
“No, I’m the one who ought to thank you,” he said. “If it hadn’t been for wanting a better life for you I’d still be working in the fields just like my daddy and granddaddy did. Love is what got us a better way of life. And love will always keep us.”
Rose couldn’t find the words to respond. So she held onto her man and leaked tears onto his shirt. The Lord sure is good to us, she thought again.
Joshua said, “Baby, it’s a little cold out. But do you feel like taking a walk? I don’t want you cooking tonight. Let’s go downtown and have us a nice eat out dinner. You deserve it. Nessie already said she’d watch the kids and feed them.”
They walked up Monmouth Avenue with their arms around each other. The snow still flurried to the earth with big white feathery flakes, and they walked with their heads bowed against the chill December night. But they really didn’t feel the cold. Love warmed their hearts and their spirits.
As they turned up Liberty Street and neared Broadway, they heard the voices of carolers filling the night with holiday cheer. They stopped on the sidewalk and listened to the beautiful lyrics of Silent Night.
“Oh Joshua, do you feel it?” Rose asked her husband as they enjoyed the carolers.
“Feel what Baby?”
“God. God is out here tonight. I feel him all through my bones!”
Joshua smiled down at his wife. “He’s always out here, Baby. It’s just that sometimes, when everything seems like it’s going wrong, we forget that He’s right there, waiting for us to use His strength to get us through. Look at where we’ve been, and where we are now. That ain’t nothing but the Lord moving us with His blessings.”
“Then let’s keep moving,” Rose said. “I can’t wait till we get there!”
“You that hungry Baby?”
“No husband,” Rose said. “I can’t wait to get to the next wonderful thing God has planned for us.”
© 2006 Christopher Bynumwww.christopherbynum.com
By Christopher Bynum
Mapleton North Carolina, 1955
Joshua walked down the dirt road, his aching feet dragging, his battered work boots kicking up dust. The dust didn’t matter. He was already so dirty and sweaty that it was going to take three baths before he felt anywhere close to being clean again.
His legs and thighs ached, but that ache was nothing compared to the agony in his back and shoulders. He wiped his brow with his dirty handkerchief and gazed toward the heavens. The summer sun was low in the sky, signaling the onset of night, but still the late day heat was stifling.
Lord, give me strength…
This was his first day on the job – twelve hours breaking his back in the tobacco fields under the sweltering sun. Every muscle in his body cried out for him not to go back tomorrow, to find some easier way to earn a living. But there was no other way. And he was thankful just to have the job.
There’d been some news today that there might be trouble coming. Some woman down in Alabama had refused to give up her seat on the bus to a white man and she’d been locked up for her trouble. Folks around these parts were worried that just to make sure nobody starting getting any ideas here in Hertford County the nightriders might make an example out of somebody. So everybody in the fields today was nervous. And nobody slacked off on the job.
He’d been walking for over two hours, and finally his little house came into view around the bend. It wasn’t much – just two rooms and an outhouse – but it was home. Their first home. He rented the place from the same man in whose fields he’d spent this day breaking his back. The place needed some work, starting off with patching the hole in the tin roof before the next rain. He figured he’d get to that tonight after supper.
Lord, I’m so tired.
Now that home was in sight his aching body felt as if it wanted to give up. He felt like he could just fall out right here and lay his head in the dirt and sleep his life away.
But he kept walking.
He thought about how hard this day had been, and that all he had to look forward to was more days and weeks and months and years like this one, days in which he worked his body until he had nothing left. He thought about getting up tomorrow and the next morning, six days a week, to do it all over again. That’s how his father had lived his life, and his father before him. And that was what he had to look forward to.
He was a man, but the thought made Joshua blink back tears of despair.
Lord, why have you made my life so hard?
As he limped into his front yard the aroma of skillet fried pork chops, collard greens seasoned with fatback and fresh hot cornbread greeted him. His stomach rumbled a return call.
The front door was open, and as he reached the house she stepped out onto the creaky wooden porch. His heart jumped in his chest, and his despairing rinsed away like sand in a rainstorm
His wife Rose wore a faded hand-me-down calico dress under a worn apron in which she wiped her hands. Her coal black hair was pulled back from her beautiful brown face, which glistened with perspiration. She’d probably been cooking all afternoon on that wood-burning stove. Joshua figured it had to be hot in that house, as hot in there for her as it had been for him out in the fields. Still, when their eyes met she greeted him with a smile.
In spite of his sore feet and legs his stride lengthened and quickened, and in two steps he was on the porch and sweeping her up into his arms.
As he hugged and kissed his new bride he forgot his exhaustion and the ache in his muscles. He forgot his despair. If he had to toil for the rest of his days in fields of fire in the pit of hell it was worth it.
It was worth it because she was worth it.
© 2005 Christopher Bynum
**********
About Love pt. 2
Long Branch, New Jersey
December 1963
“Look Rosie, it’s starting to snow!” Mrs. Porter exclaimed. She was so excited that for a moment she took her hands off the steering wheel.
Rose tensed in the passenger seat and mentally prayed that this fool wouldn’t kill them. She didn’t want to die, especially right before Christmas.
It was five years since Joshua brought them up from North Carolina to New Jersey, and in those five years she’d ridden in cars more than she had in her entire twenty-one years of life previously. But Rose still couldn’t get used to Mrs. Porter’s driving. It was a wonder they gave the woman a driver’s license.
To Rose’s great relief Mrs. Porter grabbed the wheel and stopped the car just before they reached the red light at the corner of Third Avenue and Broadway. Another foot and they would have been in the boot of that big old Chrysler Imperial in front of them at the light.
“It will be so nice to have snow this Christmas,” Mrs. Porter said. “Did you have much snow at Christmas in North Carolina?”
“No, not too much,” Rose said. She was proud that she’d remembered not to stick a “ma’am” at the end of her answer. She’d noticed that up here in New Jersey colored folks didn’t call white folks “sir” and “ma’am” just because they were white.
They turned off Third Avenue onto downtown Broadway. It was evening, and the street was lit up with Christmas lights. Decorations hung on the lamp posts. Shoppers hurried up and down and across the street amidst the gently falling snowflakes, skittering in and out of stores like bees buzzing around their hives.
To Rose the scene looked like something out of one of those nice old holiday movies. The spirit of Christmas swelled within her breast. She hoped that Joshua would be home in time to celebrate Christmas with her and the children. If he wasn’t back from his trip in time it would be the first Christmas in their eight years of marriage that they’d be apart.
“This is so lovely,” Mrs. Porter sighed. “Lord knows we need something cheerful in our lives after all that’s happened lately. Can you believe it’s been a month since they killed the President in Dallas?”
“It seems like it happened yesterday,” Rose said. She answered her employer but her mind was on her husband, who was on the road for his company delivering aluminum doors and windows.
They turned off Broadway onto Liberty Street, and two blocks later onto Monmouth Avenue. Rose gathered up her things as they neared her house. As Mrs. Porter pulled to a stop at the curb Rose said, “Thank you for the ride, Mrs. Porter.”
Even though they’d taken this same ride five days a week for the last four years, Rose didn’t think it hurt to show appreciation. She still remembered how Joshua walked for miles to and from the fields every day when they lived in North Carolina. Old Mr. Jenkins would never have thought to give any colored worker a ride home.
“It’s my pleasure Rosie,” Mrs. Porter said. “I really appreciate all you’ve done for me. “In fact, Mr. Porter and I decided that we really ought to show our appreciation for all your hard work by giving you a Christmas bonus this year.”
From her purse she extracted a crisp fifty dollar bill and handed it to Rose.
Rose stared in shock at the money. This was twice as much as she made in a week cooking and cleaning for the Porter family.
This year for Christmas she and Joshua had bought a new set of cap pistols for Little Josh and a doll for baby Carol. There were still two days to go before Christmas. With this money she could buy them more toys, and get something nice for Joshua, who worked so hard to support them.
Rose fought to contain her emotions. “Mrs. Porter, thank you. We all thank you so much,” she said.
Mrs. Porter patted her hand. “Think nothing of it, dear. As I said, we really do appreciate all you do for us. And that’s something else, Rosie. I do wish you would call me Ruth. After all, I consider us friends.”
Rose went up the walk to the house blinking tears from her eyes. The Lord sure was good to them. After all their struggles in the south He’d seen His way to guide them up north to a better way of life. Now if only He could find a way to bring Joshua home before Christmas.
Nessie Thompson lived in the upstairs half of the house they rented.Nessie watched the children while she and Joshua were at work. Rose decided that she’d go into her own house and take off her coat and rest her feet for a minute before she went up to get the children. But when she opened the door to her living room Joshua was standing right there in front of the Christmas tree, holding Little Josh and Carol in each of his strong arms. He was grinning at her from ear to ear.
“Merry Christmas, Baby,” he beamed.
She didn’t remember running across the room to her family, and didn’t know how Joshua managed to hug her while still holding their children. But Joshua had always managed to take care of his family, whether it was suffering in the sun in the tobacco and cotton fields or finding a way to move them north to a better life. So she wasn’t surprised at anything he managed to accomplish for them.
“How did you get home?” she said into his chest.
“By driving that danged truck like I was in the Pony Express,” he said. “The boss was surprised to see me back so soon. I told him don’t get used to it, but ain’t no way I’m gonna be away from my woman and my babies for Christmas.”
Unable to speak, Rose just hugged her man tighter.
Joshua said, “And guess what, Baby? The boss appreciated me working so hard and fast, so he gave me a fifty dollar bonus on top of my pay. Now don’t that beat all?”
“Yes Honey, that’s just about beats all,” she said. “Now come on and sit down. I’m gonna make some pork chops and collards and corn bread.”
Joshua smiled even harder. “Just like the old days, huh Baby?”
Rose handed him the fifty dollar bill given to her by Mrs. Porter. “No husband, nothing is like the old days. I want to thank you for that – for giving us a better life.”
Joshua looked down at his wife. He remembered that hot summer day eight years ago when he’d felt so tired and helpless thinking about the future. He remembered Rose coming out onto the porch, sweating from her day over the stove.
“No, I’m the one who ought to thank you,” he said. “If it hadn’t been for wanting a better life for you I’d still be working in the fields just like my daddy and granddaddy did. Love is what got us a better way of life. And love will always keep us.”
Rose couldn’t find the words to respond. So she held onto her man and leaked tears onto his shirt. The Lord sure is good to us, she thought again.
Joshua said, “Baby, it’s a little cold out. But do you feel like taking a walk? I don’t want you cooking tonight. Let’s go downtown and have us a nice eat out dinner. You deserve it. Nessie already said she’d watch the kids and feed them.”
They walked up Monmouth Avenue with their arms around each other. The snow still flurried to the earth with big white feathery flakes, and they walked with their heads bowed against the chill December night. But they really didn’t feel the cold. Love warmed their hearts and their spirits.
As they turned up Liberty Street and neared Broadway, they heard the voices of carolers filling the night with holiday cheer. They stopped on the sidewalk and listened to the beautiful lyrics of Silent Night.
“Oh Joshua, do you feel it?” Rose asked her husband as they enjoyed the carolers.
“Feel what Baby?”
“God. God is out here tonight. I feel him all through my bones!”
Joshua smiled down at his wife. “He’s always out here, Baby. It’s just that sometimes, when everything seems like it’s going wrong, we forget that He’s right there, waiting for us to use His strength to get us through. Look at where we’ve been, and where we are now. That ain’t nothing but the Lord moving us with His blessings.”
“Then let’s keep moving,” Rose said. “I can’t wait till we get there!”
“You that hungry Baby?”
“No husband,” Rose said. “I can’t wait to get to the next wonderful thing God has planned for us.”
© 2006 Christopher Bynumwww.christopherbynum.com
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Baggage
I know you’ve been hurt and mistreated
Disappointed so many times
But how can I be a good man for you
If you won’t let me inside?
You’ve got this wall up for self defense
And this hostile attitude
Do you think a man wants to know you
When you come off being so rude?
All I want to be is a man who cares
And maybe one day a man who loves
But I won’t fight just to be your friend
So take off those emotional boxing gloves
I will listen and I will empathize
I will try to understand
But don’t expect me to carry your baggage
Because baby, I’m not that man
So if you feel you want me
That I might be the one for you
Then you need to meet me halfway
And then I’ll carry you
I’ll carry you because I’m a real man
Who will give my woman my strength
So relax and let me be the man
Who will love you
And cherish you
And protect you
And sex you
And give you everything you need
If you just put those damned suitcases away
© 2007 Christopher Bynum
www.christopherbynum.com
All Rights Reserved
Disappointed so many times
But how can I be a good man for you
If you won’t let me inside?
You’ve got this wall up for self defense
And this hostile attitude
Do you think a man wants to know you
When you come off being so rude?
All I want to be is a man who cares
And maybe one day a man who loves
But I won’t fight just to be your friend
So take off those emotional boxing gloves
I will listen and I will empathize
I will try to understand
But don’t expect me to carry your baggage
Because baby, I’m not that man
So if you feel you want me
That I might be the one for you
Then you need to meet me halfway
And then I’ll carry you
I’ll carry you because I’m a real man
Who will give my woman my strength
So relax and let me be the man
Who will love you
And cherish you
And protect you
And sex you
And give you everything you need
If you just put those damned suitcases away
© 2007 Christopher Bynum
www.christopherbynum.com
All Rights Reserved
Rain Goddess
Richmond, Virginia
Saturday Afternoon
Step Two of his plan had been to get Deborah out of the apartment for a few hours this afternoon. His sister took care of that with news of a sale at Bath & Body Works.
Step Three was his conning the salesman at the Nissan dealership, making him think that he was really interested in buying a gas guzzling full-sized pickup truck. When he’d acted like he had a change of heart at the last minute after gushing over the truck the dealer did just as he’d hoped – offered to let him test drive it over the weekend. So now he was driving off the lot this Saturday afternoon in a brand new Titan king cab model with the eight-foot long bed.
Step One had been the step most out of his control. For that he’d had to hope the weather man knew what he was talking about when he’d forecasted summer rain showers over the entire weekend.
So far so good. The rain came down in a steady mist as he drove the pickup to the sporting goods store to complete Step Four.
The item he purchased at the store was self-contained and simple to set up. The only tricky part was to get it done before Deborah got home and hope she wouldn’t notice it until it was time to reveal the surprise he had planned.
But he couldn’t hide the truck. That evening she started to ask what the deal was when they left the apartment to go to the movies and he led her to the brand new pickup instead of his car. But then something must have clicked in her memory. She must have recalled a discussion they’d had months ago, about something they wanted to do one day. So instead of questioning him about the truck she smiled as he helped her up into the vehicle’s cab.
Deborah didn’t notice the item he’d purchased from the sporting goods store or the items he’d placed on the floor in the rear passenger area. She was too busy smiling.
She was still smiling when he climbed behind the wheel.
“Are we really going to the movies?” she asked.
“Yes we are,” he said.
“And then what?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ll see.” He tried not to smile as he answered, but it was hard.
It was raining a little harder too. The mist had turned into a light drizzle.
Perfect.
----------
They sat in the back row of the theater and spent more time kissing and touching each other than watching the movie. That was part of his plan too. He wanted her nice and hot when they got back in the truck. It worked. Fortunately the noise of the movie masked her sighs and moans.
It was dark out when the left the theater. As they walked through the parking lot Deborah stuck her hand out from under the umbrella.
“The rain feels warm,” she said. She watched him closely, looking for some sign…a confirmation of his intent.
Yeah, she had a pretty good idea what was up. He tried to look nonchalant as he answered, “Yeah, it does.”
Perfect.
----------
The park was just a few blocks away from the apartment. It was mostly trees, walking trails and a scattering of picnic tables and grills. Because it was night and raining the parking area was deserted. He parked in a corner of the lot away from view of the park entry. That way they could see the headlights and hear an approaching vehicle long before a driver knew they were there. He didn’t care about civilians seeing them, but you never knew how a cop might view things.
He killed the truck’s engine and looked over at Deborah. Her sexy bedroom eyes shone at him in the darkness.
The rain was an aphrodisiac for her. Many of her fantasies involved making love to the sound of rain, or making love in the rain. Tonight he intended to fulfill both those fantasies for her, if she was willing and brave enough.
Deborah looked over her shoulder through the rear window of the cab. “Do you think it’s going to be comfortable back there?” she asked.
Okay, she was willing and brave.
“I picked up an inflatable mattress this afternoon,” he said. “It’s already blown up and ready to go.”
Now she let out a big sigh. “Wow…Baby…wow…”
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah…” Another big sigh, but she was smiling. “I love you,” she said.
“I love you too, Baby.”
She looked around the park area, apparently verifying that they were really alone. Then she said, “Our clothes are gonna get wet, unless…”
He reached into the back of the cab behind her seat and lifted the items he’d placed there earlier.
He showed them to her…one of her bathing suits…his swim trunks and a couple of large, plush towels.
“We can put on this swim gear to go to the back. That way our clothes don’t get wet. Or, if you’re brave enough…”
Deborah kicked her shoes off and tugged her pullover blouse over her head. He watched as she peeled her skirt off, and started getting out of his clothes as she stripped out of her underwear.
When they were undressed she picked up her bathing suit. She looked around the area again and said, “We can take these with us in case somebody comes.”
He smiled and thought that hopefully the only ones coming would be them. He opened the door and stepped out into the warm summer rain.
----------
The vision of her lovely nakedness coming to the back of the truck under the night sky hit him with almost physical impact. He loved her body. But he’d never seen her like this, natural in nature. Damn, she was so beautiful!
He lowered the tailgate and helped her up into the truck’s bed. Her nakedness brushed against his, her skin already slicked by the rain. The part of him that always yearned for her throbbed its desire. He climbed in and pulled the tailgate shut.
----------
Amazing sensations.
The rain against their skin…thousands of drops…each one a tiny caress that set their nerves on edge.
Her lips and her tongue as they kissed.
Her wet nakedness sliding against his.
The sensations of her skin under his fingertips and of her touch on his.
He kissed her tender, rain moistened lips. He licked and sucked the rain from her breasts and nipples. He moved lower, and she opened her long legs and let him taste the rain mingled with her honey…nature’s wetness mixed with her wetness. He tasted her until she shivered and moaned and gave him even more to savor and swallow.
He wanted her. He ached for her…throbbed for her. His desire leaked and flowed from him. More wetness mingled with the rain.
He moved over her, wanting to be inside her wet, silken heat. But before he could fulfill his desire she sat up and pushed him down onto the mattress. Now it was her turn to drink the summer rain from him.
They’d paid strict attention and learned each other’s bodies. She knew exactly what to do…how to touch him…how to stroke him…how to lick him…how to suck him.
And she knew when he was at the peak of his desire, when something had to give. Over and over she took him close to that peak but then backed off, letting nature’s wetness replace the warm wetness of her mouth. Sweet torture.
She knew him, so she knew when the torture was enough. On some occasions she’d take him to the peak and over in her mouth, if she was in that kind of mood or she knew that’s what he wanted. But on this special night in the rain they required the ultimate intimacy. She released him from her mouth and threw one of her long legs over his body.
Sometimes she was on top, riding him, seeking out her internal pleasure points, closing her eyes and moaning or biting her lip at the sweet intensity and bathing him with the gift of her wetness. Other times he was on top, finding those secret spots for her, taking her to the peak and over, making her release in the rain…release on him and for him. He couldn’t get enough of her doing that.
The rain whispered in the leaves. It pattered against the asphalt and against the truck and against their naked skin. The music of the rain intermingled with their sighs and moans, creating a sensual symphony of love. The rain was an aphrodisiac for her. It intensified her pleasure. Her orgasms were his aphrodisiac. Her ecstasy was his pleasure.
After a while he couldn’t tell where the rain ended and their wetness began. It didn’t matter. Tonight they were a part of the rain.
In the end they came together, more wetness in the wetness of the summer night. He held her and kissed her as their sensations faded from liquid fire to the low grade fever they always felt for each other.
He thought they were done. But when he finally removed himself from her sweetness she pushed him back to the mattress, on his back.
“This is too special to end so soon,” she said. And then she took him into her mouth again.
----------
When they really were done he told her to stay in the truck bed for a moment. He retrieved his camera from the back seat and came back to the rear of the vehicle.
She saw the camera in his hand. “Christopher…” she started to protest.
“Just one, Baby,” he said. “Look that way, toward the trees.”
She allowed him his request and looked toward the trees and he snapped the photo.
He looked at the image on the camera’s display. The flash had illuminated her creamy nakedness as she sat in semi repose. It showed her gazing out into the night with her sexy eyes and her dark hair plastered to her head. Raindrops glistened on her beautiful nakedness.
Perfect.
He smiled at the image, another memory of her captured for his private collection.
He already knew what he’d call this one:
Rain Goddess.
© December 2008
Christopher Bynum
www.christopherbynum.com
All Rights Reserved
Saturday Afternoon
Step Two of his plan had been to get Deborah out of the apartment for a few hours this afternoon. His sister took care of that with news of a sale at Bath & Body Works.
Step Three was his conning the salesman at the Nissan dealership, making him think that he was really interested in buying a gas guzzling full-sized pickup truck. When he’d acted like he had a change of heart at the last minute after gushing over the truck the dealer did just as he’d hoped – offered to let him test drive it over the weekend. So now he was driving off the lot this Saturday afternoon in a brand new Titan king cab model with the eight-foot long bed.
Step One had been the step most out of his control. For that he’d had to hope the weather man knew what he was talking about when he’d forecasted summer rain showers over the entire weekend.
So far so good. The rain came down in a steady mist as he drove the pickup to the sporting goods store to complete Step Four.
The item he purchased at the store was self-contained and simple to set up. The only tricky part was to get it done before Deborah got home and hope she wouldn’t notice it until it was time to reveal the surprise he had planned.
But he couldn’t hide the truck. That evening she started to ask what the deal was when they left the apartment to go to the movies and he led her to the brand new pickup instead of his car. But then something must have clicked in her memory. She must have recalled a discussion they’d had months ago, about something they wanted to do one day. So instead of questioning him about the truck she smiled as he helped her up into the vehicle’s cab.
Deborah didn’t notice the item he’d purchased from the sporting goods store or the items he’d placed on the floor in the rear passenger area. She was too busy smiling.
She was still smiling when he climbed behind the wheel.
“Are we really going to the movies?” she asked.
“Yes we are,” he said.
“And then what?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ll see.” He tried not to smile as he answered, but it was hard.
It was raining a little harder too. The mist had turned into a light drizzle.
Perfect.
----------
They sat in the back row of the theater and spent more time kissing and touching each other than watching the movie. That was part of his plan too. He wanted her nice and hot when they got back in the truck. It worked. Fortunately the noise of the movie masked her sighs and moans.
It was dark out when the left the theater. As they walked through the parking lot Deborah stuck her hand out from under the umbrella.
“The rain feels warm,” she said. She watched him closely, looking for some sign…a confirmation of his intent.
Yeah, she had a pretty good idea what was up. He tried to look nonchalant as he answered, “Yeah, it does.”
Perfect.
----------
The park was just a few blocks away from the apartment. It was mostly trees, walking trails and a scattering of picnic tables and grills. Because it was night and raining the parking area was deserted. He parked in a corner of the lot away from view of the park entry. That way they could see the headlights and hear an approaching vehicle long before a driver knew they were there. He didn’t care about civilians seeing them, but you never knew how a cop might view things.
He killed the truck’s engine and looked over at Deborah. Her sexy bedroom eyes shone at him in the darkness.
The rain was an aphrodisiac for her. Many of her fantasies involved making love to the sound of rain, or making love in the rain. Tonight he intended to fulfill both those fantasies for her, if she was willing and brave enough.
Deborah looked over her shoulder through the rear window of the cab. “Do you think it’s going to be comfortable back there?” she asked.
Okay, she was willing and brave.
“I picked up an inflatable mattress this afternoon,” he said. “It’s already blown up and ready to go.”
Now she let out a big sigh. “Wow…Baby…wow…”
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah…” Another big sigh, but she was smiling. “I love you,” she said.
“I love you too, Baby.”
She looked around the park area, apparently verifying that they were really alone. Then she said, “Our clothes are gonna get wet, unless…”
He reached into the back of the cab behind her seat and lifted the items he’d placed there earlier.
He showed them to her…one of her bathing suits…his swim trunks and a couple of large, plush towels.
“We can put on this swim gear to go to the back. That way our clothes don’t get wet. Or, if you’re brave enough…”
Deborah kicked her shoes off and tugged her pullover blouse over her head. He watched as she peeled her skirt off, and started getting out of his clothes as she stripped out of her underwear.
When they were undressed she picked up her bathing suit. She looked around the area again and said, “We can take these with us in case somebody comes.”
He smiled and thought that hopefully the only ones coming would be them. He opened the door and stepped out into the warm summer rain.
----------
The vision of her lovely nakedness coming to the back of the truck under the night sky hit him with almost physical impact. He loved her body. But he’d never seen her like this, natural in nature. Damn, she was so beautiful!
He lowered the tailgate and helped her up into the truck’s bed. Her nakedness brushed against his, her skin already slicked by the rain. The part of him that always yearned for her throbbed its desire. He climbed in and pulled the tailgate shut.
----------
Amazing sensations.
The rain against their skin…thousands of drops…each one a tiny caress that set their nerves on edge.
Her lips and her tongue as they kissed.
Her wet nakedness sliding against his.
The sensations of her skin under his fingertips and of her touch on his.
He kissed her tender, rain moistened lips. He licked and sucked the rain from her breasts and nipples. He moved lower, and she opened her long legs and let him taste the rain mingled with her honey…nature’s wetness mixed with her wetness. He tasted her until she shivered and moaned and gave him even more to savor and swallow.
He wanted her. He ached for her…throbbed for her. His desire leaked and flowed from him. More wetness mingled with the rain.
He moved over her, wanting to be inside her wet, silken heat. But before he could fulfill his desire she sat up and pushed him down onto the mattress. Now it was her turn to drink the summer rain from him.
They’d paid strict attention and learned each other’s bodies. She knew exactly what to do…how to touch him…how to stroke him…how to lick him…how to suck him.
And she knew when he was at the peak of his desire, when something had to give. Over and over she took him close to that peak but then backed off, letting nature’s wetness replace the warm wetness of her mouth. Sweet torture.
She knew him, so she knew when the torture was enough. On some occasions she’d take him to the peak and over in her mouth, if she was in that kind of mood or she knew that’s what he wanted. But on this special night in the rain they required the ultimate intimacy. She released him from her mouth and threw one of her long legs over his body.
Sometimes she was on top, riding him, seeking out her internal pleasure points, closing her eyes and moaning or biting her lip at the sweet intensity and bathing him with the gift of her wetness. Other times he was on top, finding those secret spots for her, taking her to the peak and over, making her release in the rain…release on him and for him. He couldn’t get enough of her doing that.
The rain whispered in the leaves. It pattered against the asphalt and against the truck and against their naked skin. The music of the rain intermingled with their sighs and moans, creating a sensual symphony of love. The rain was an aphrodisiac for her. It intensified her pleasure. Her orgasms were his aphrodisiac. Her ecstasy was his pleasure.
After a while he couldn’t tell where the rain ended and their wetness began. It didn’t matter. Tonight they were a part of the rain.
In the end they came together, more wetness in the wetness of the summer night. He held her and kissed her as their sensations faded from liquid fire to the low grade fever they always felt for each other.
He thought they were done. But when he finally removed himself from her sweetness she pushed him back to the mattress, on his back.
“This is too special to end so soon,” she said. And then she took him into her mouth again.
----------
When they really were done he told her to stay in the truck bed for a moment. He retrieved his camera from the back seat and came back to the rear of the vehicle.
She saw the camera in his hand. “Christopher…” she started to protest.
“Just one, Baby,” he said. “Look that way, toward the trees.”
She allowed him his request and looked toward the trees and he snapped the photo.
He looked at the image on the camera’s display. The flash had illuminated her creamy nakedness as she sat in semi repose. It showed her gazing out into the night with her sexy eyes and her dark hair plastered to her head. Raindrops glistened on her beautiful nakedness.
Perfect.
He smiled at the image, another memory of her captured for his private collection.
He already knew what he’d call this one:
Rain Goddess.
© December 2008
Christopher Bynum
www.christopherbynum.com
All Rights Reserved
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