Simply for Thought

By Cindy Sommers

Simply for Thought uses stories, reflections, and poems to provoke attention to and appreciation for all that life has to offer. Each chapter has a unique theme and ends with a poem that tracks the tale of the chapters story. The chapters and poems do not lecture; they offer hope and impressions meant to last long after the words on the pages are read and the book is closed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: May 16, 2012
• ISBN: 9781449745011

Cindy Sommers

Cindy Sommers is a licensed attorney who contributed as an author to several published articles before writing Simply for Thought. After a number of years practicing law with private law firms, Cindy worked primarily with non-profit organizations, including approximately fourteen years with the United Network for Organ Sharing (UNOS).   One constant throughout Cindy’s educational and professional endeavors has been her love of writing, whether technical or expressive, and the good that can come from a message effectively communicated. Cindy’s home is in Appomattox County, Virginia, a place rich in history and beauty, where she and her husband enjoy living in the country with a gang of Jack Russell Terriers who are certain they own the two of them.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Simply Kind

I am in the habit of taking morning walks. It used to be morning jogs, but as the knees and other joints are aging, walking has become a welcome alternative. Whether it be jogging or walking, it is a wonderful way to think through the challenges or concerns that life offers up from time to time. Otherwise, these same dilemmas tend to hit me when I am in the shower, where the space is confined; before I know it, the walls seem to be crumbling in toward me, making whatever bad situation I am pondering even more difficult. All in all, I prefer the walks!

A recent walk had me thinking about the huge contributions to society made by people like Larry Stewart, alias Secret Santa, with his anonymous gifts to folks in need, or Willie Nelson with his concerts held to benefit causes about which he feels strongly. I do not have access to the financial resources of a Secret Santa, and I certainly do not possess the talent of a Willie Nelson. So what can a person like me do to make a difference? I had no sooner asked the question when I thought back to a very unique day in my life and a perfect stranger who had the immediate answer.

It was a gorgeous fall day in the country, one of those incredibly warm fall days with the sun shining all day long and turning the leaves, already changing in color, to tones of pure gold and crimson. There certainly was no need for a coat or any kind of wrap at all, at least until sunset, and by then there would be a raging fire burning, adding to the unmistakably fresh, warm smell of fall in the air. I had spent the weekend with my boyfriend and his family at a retreat along the Shenandoah River. My plan was to leave Sunday afternoon, as I had about a two-hour drive to return home and I needed to be at work early Monday morning. The company, river location, and gorgeous weather were too inviting, however, and I stayed much too long. Dusk already was emerging, and the sun was quickly disappearing from the horizon by the time I left for home.

I had traveled some distance when I heard an odd noise coming from the left rear of my car. Then I felt that very uncomfortable feeling of a tire on uneven pavement, except that the pavement was smooth. I drove a little farther, as if the mischief going on underneath me would disappear. It did not. I stopped the car, walked back to the rear tire, saw the now-undeniable flat, and kicked the tire. About a hundred thoughts crossed my mind at that moment. First, I recalled how many times I had meant to put a flashlight and blanket in the car, but never did. Then, I recalled how many times I had meant to study the manual for changing a flat tire, but never did. I had absolutely no idea where to begin with the tire-changing process. I did have a clear idea about how quickly and completely the darkness begins to surround you in the fall mountain climate. It also seemed to be getting chillier by the minute as I stood there looking at the flat tire.

I did not think I had traveled very far before discovering the flat tire. It might make the most sense to walk back to the weekend retreat spot. While contemplating the journey, I took a look around my immediate surroundings. I was parked on the shoulder of a divided highway, headed southeast. My side of the highway appeared uninhabited. It was forested with a fairly steep downward slope into a ravine. Across the highway, in the trees, I could see a light. I decided my first move would be to walk toward the light.

After crossing the highway, I discovered a driveway that reached far into a wooded area. It was fairly well illuminated by the light, however, and I followed it. Before too long, I saw a house and began to feel hopeful I would find someone home who would allow me to call my boyfriend. The house had a wide front porch. As I stepped on the first step, I heard a bone-chilling growl, looked to my left, and saw a Doberman pinscher with a head that looked more like a bear’s than a dog’s. He seemed to be all teeth. He lunged toward me, growling and snarling to the point that he was spitting. I almost was sorry the light displayed him and his obvious fury so well. I backed up slowly, knowing I could not outrun him. I thought appearing calm might help. It did not. He jumped and was so close I could feel his breath. Just as he reached me, he came to the end of his chain; I leaped backward. He stood inches from me, continuing to growl and spit. With all the noise and commotion created by the Doberman and me, it was clear that either no one was home or they absolutely had no interest in visitors that evening. In any event, it seemed the very best option was to walk away—and fast.

I returned to the car and kicked the flat tire again. Yep, it was still flat.

It was time to try walking back to the retreat site. It could not be that far—after all, I had only been driving a short time. I stayed on my side of the highway this time, walking into what little traffic there was. The forest was to my left. Walking briskly was not a problem since the temperature was falling steadily. I was wearing a cotton shirt and jeans that were becoming less and less effective in warding off the chilly air.

It was not long before I started to hear noises in the woods. They sounded distant. That felt all right. Nighttime