Savory Moments

A prevenient joy swirled around the old man's heart. The car hummed beneath him; because there was only the dimmest promise of dawn outside his dark window, he closed his eyes and willed the miles to slip by faster. He never knew his daughter was such a competent driver, the ride so smooth he almost felt he was on a train. What a gift she was giving him.

In his mind he saw the vaporous wisps hovered above the lake, rising into the sky. A breeze, sharp, would begin to stir, leaving the tiniest of ripples where it swept over the trees and dipped its fingers in the water before painting small spots of color on his withered and pale cheeks. It, together with the rising sun, would send the veil away, and the scene would change. He would savor every moment of it. No camera, no sketch pencils, just the gift of his mind. The wonderous, unexpected gift of a clear and lucid mind.

How different from the panic that gripped the same heart just a few short weeks ago. Because of that wayward heart he was confined, shackled by tubes and machines. When he closed his eyes on the horror of them, he heard continuous wheezes and blips, and it was almost more than he could bear, because there was no way to stop up his ears. He remembered telling himself to calm down, to breathe, but he had never contemplated that his last view would be the putty color of a curtain pulled between his bed and the door, as if there would be no escape.

He was so relieved when his Karen came and he could focus on her face instead. She promised he would be okay. She gave him the courage to prove her right.

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From Miriam-Webster: The Word of the Day for July 26, 2008 is:prevenient • \prih-VEEN-yunt\ • adjective : antecedent, anticipatory