LIFE OF A TRAVELER

A small rambler with thick heavy carpets from the 1970s, with the big wooden TVs, the smell of gravy, biscuits, and coffee in the air, the bathrooms with thick warm rugs and the heater lamp reminded me of a house I had entered in my teen years. The house had so much charm and warmth along with an elderly woman who had won my heart with her big hugs. I had refused to buy any other house but her house. It was never the house, but the owner the house had belonged to.

The transition, however, had been drastic as the thick carpets had been replaced with white marble floors.

The old study table with a heat lamp had been replaced with a huge sun room and walkout patio. The family room with a huge TV and yellow carpets and orange sofas were all replaced with marble floors, a new TV, and brand new modern furniture. The kitchen with a fresh tea pot and old range was replaced with a new coffeemaker. The nice hugs and the owner with a big smile was replaced with a new owner.

The new owner, however, did not greet and meet all the strangers with a huge hug or invite strangers to a fresh cup of tea or have a TV date with all the neighbors. Nor did she show her beautiful marble home to any visitors as did the previous owner.

The warmth of the previous owner, however, stayed within the mind, body, and soul of the new owner.

How do I know the old owner and the new owner and how is it possible for me to know the feelings of the new owner of the house?

You see, I was the young teenager who had bought the beautiful home of an elderly woman who had loved me and gave me the blessings of a stranger whom I loved and honored like a grandmother. So much love and warmth had stayed within my memories that even time could not wipe them out.

Today as I live the life of a traveler searching for yet another home, I reminded myself it’s not the house or what is within the walls, but the beholder of the house.

The beauty is not within the flowers being planted, but within the hands of the gardener. The house becomes the reflection of the beholder. The ponds only reflect the picture being displayed in front of her.

I am honored today as through the reflection of my mirror I know what and where I want to be, and how I want my own reflection to be as I see myself within the memories of my life.

I know as time passes by us, the old become new. With time, the faces change, life changes. The past is left somewhere in history for all of us to read through, enjoy the warmth, but not live through. We read through the pages of history. We enjoy it, feel the comfort of it. Also, we love the loving touch of the grandmother, but we don’t want to be the grandmother.

Life is but an ongoing wagon who carries upon her always a new passenger with an individual identity.

Why is it then the old charm always remains within our mind, body, and soul, and always alive within our memories? We never forget the past. Yet, today never carries us back to yesterday even though our memories forever carry within our journey of life the memories of the past. These memories remain eternally comforting for all generations to enjoy.

I know the past journeys of the travelers I have encountered within the journey of my life have left behind pictures and memories that will forever guide me.

I know I want to walk upon the cozy warmth of the strangers I but call my Angels in disguise. The doors, I shall open up for all the strangers roaming around for the same warmth we all search for. I shall be the blessings I once found waiting for me as I needed them the most.

May my blessings and love be there for all of you whom need blessings, love, and just a hug from the unknown, unseen place.

Always believe in the powers of an honest prayer of an honest soul for as you open your doors to an honest prayer, she but jumps in as she awaits your welcome sign.

Welcome all prayers of the honest soul for they come unannounced. Be the welcome prayer all but search for. Be the honest soul who sends an honest prayer to all searching souls.

Blessings from Seattle,