Okay, I tried doing a poem about this but it felt forced and inauthentic, so I am going to try something I rarely do, which is give a little piece of me. I am not a follower of religion, but I believe in a higher force. I believe the universe has a consciousness of sorts, which in turn results in a collective consciousness accessible by “localized” planetary communities… so to speak. It is a rough theory.
I also believe in genetic memory, but that is another story.
Premonition is something that I have had a few times in my life; undeniable and not linked to instinct or a subliminal interpretation of little clues strewn about here and there; and then some get a little weirder after the fact, one of which I will not bring up because it disturbs me so.
So, a piece of me that I am opting to share as an author in order to connect with my audience. I remember this one clearly as a boy of thirteen, standing under the pine tree in my front yard- my dad always bought live pines for Christmas and then planted them in the yard- and for no reason just looked up in thought, knowing that at some point I would be involved in two wars, and that I would be okay. This came to pass.
A few years later, shortly after getting my first job at a doughnut shop post-high school, I knew for no reason at all, that the baker who was a woman four years my senior, was someday going to be my wife. No reason I tell you. I was a dork in high school, her brother was ahead of me and a very popular football player, and she was a pretty bike racer who could have made it to the Olympics if she had had the proper support. But I knew we would be married- this came to pass.
And then, prior to my second deployment to a war zone on a year-long assignment, I just knew that both my parents would die, so I went to visit before hand, as I believe that funerals are irrelevant to the dead and are only for those who cling to memories and sorrows. I would rather see them alive one more time. I did not share my vision with them and yes, they were not in optimal health, but there was no reason to believe that they would not live many more years past their 76th. This, too, came to pass as my mother died one month after my deployment ( two days before my youngest son’s birthday) and my dad three months before my return (three days before my birthday).
And the weirdest thing yet is that about a year later I received an e-mail from my mother’s hotmail account, the three lines truncated as if it was very difficult to type, listing three very unique, only-she-could-know things in my life. Nobody in my family could explain it.
These are my premonitions.