Lorraine Carey

Lorraine Carey
This is my secret place I go to write for inspiration- Pedro St. James Castle, Grand Cayman

Wednesday, December 30, 2015

The Dollhouse

 It took years to build his dream house.
He gathered treasures from near and far.
For as long as he could remember he had a vision.

He’d always known what he wanted.
All was in place, just as he had planned.
His search for the perfect resident had begun.

He chose her carefully from his cherished collection.
He placed her in his favorite room in
the dollhouse.

She was happy to live in such luxury.
Her needs were provided for.

He kept a watchful eye on his treasure,
and his coveted prize.

At times he’d rearrange the furniture.
He’d kept the house in pristine order.
It was all for her.

Years had passed
She moved from room to room,
only to realize her house was made of metal.
And nothing ever changed,
except the years that stole her beauty and her sanity.

Nothing had ever been real,
only for him.

~ Lorraine Carey

Friday, December 11, 2015

Strolling Strangers

October of 2009 had been a tragic time for me with the death of both of my beloved parents. My mother had preceded my father in death by three weeks. You just had to know this couple. Those who knew them called them ‘Lovebirds’. They were joined at the hip and were soul mates for sure. My father depended on my mother for everything. We hear very often that one cannot live without the other and many times one will pass shortly after their mate dies.

It was late one night about three weeks after my parent’s passing. My husband and I were living in a small development in Irvine, California. It was one of those complexes with cookie cutter condos. Our bedroom was upstairs. I loved having the window open with the wonderful breeze that fall provided in Southern California.

For some reason I was quite restless and could hear voices coming from outside. I glanced at the clock to see it was 3 am. I peered out the window to see an elderly couple walking down the sidewalk by our house. They were holding hands and I could only catch a glimpse of them from the back as they passed by.  The moonlight seemed to shed just enough light that I could see they were elderly, possibly in their seventies or early eighties. Their gait was slow but steady. I wondered just what the heck they were doing out at this hour in the morning? My eyes followed them as they strolled along the front sidewalk of our condo, around the curve down the street and enter a path that led into another set of condos. At that point they just disappeared into thin air! I mean they were like ‘poof ’ they’re gone! I woke my husband to tell him. He said maybe they just wanted a walk. That didn’t settle right with me at all. Our development was mostly all young couples and I knew who lived where, with the condos tucked in so close together. I had never seen an elderly couple the four years we lived there.

After it had all sunk in I began to try to rationalize this whole mysterious event. Was it my parents I saw or another apparition? It was just too odd. I even walked over to the next street and entered the walkway they had entered the next day. I watched for several days and never once did I see an elderly couple. I would rise for the next few nights and look out the window in hopes of seeing a replay. Nothing. I somehow knew deep down I had a glimpse of my parents that night, still holding hands and together.