El Cajon, CA
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Articles by Dean Kellio

Have you ever fallen in love before? Can you remember the feeling, the first time you felt it? It originated in your heart and made your chest feel like it was about to explode. It was like a giant ball of pulsating energy that couldn’t wait to get out. Your mind was in on it too as thoughts of “Should I call her or should I give her space” played back and forth in your head like a cerebral table tennis game. Heartache is one of the worst feelings known to man.

A sudden rush of frozen air cut through the silence that accompanied the falling snow engulfing the rider and his horse. Alex jumped off his beautiful Clydesdale even before the fancy feathers of Bella’s hooves came to a complete stop.  He could see Emma busy working inside as he tied his horse to the cedar railing in front of the ice cream parlor. His leather boots made a delightful crunching sound as he made his way through the knee high drifts of snow.

Jesus paused as he came to the top of the Mount of Olives. The early morning sun was shining directly off the gold and silver covered east gates of the temple complex. The glare was so intense, so blinding that our Lord had to put the palm of his hand in front of his eyes.

The piano sat motionless downstairs in the basement. A layer of dust had settled on the ebony keys suggesting that it had been some time since it had last been played. The finish was streaked and faded from years of sitting in front of a sunny window. It had a matching bench with a seat that hinged upward to reveal a hidden storage area beneath that was completely filled with all manner of sheet music. As I rummaged through the pages of music, I found nestled among the classics several popular tunes from the 1960’s.

“Well, if you haven’t been baptized then you won’t go to heaven,” barked the man from the church on the corner.

“But I’m not a bad person, why wouldn’t God allow me into heaven just because I haven’t been baptized?” asked the young shoe salesman as he stopped to listen to the men who were talking near the bus stop.

“Listen, I pray every morning and evening, surely Allah has heard my prayers,” replied the service station attendant who had just finished topping off a 1953 Bel Air convertible.

One by one the apostles walked through the doorway into the upper room that had been prepared for the Passover. As each guest passed through the opening, they noticed a pitcher full of water, a bowl to pour it into as well as a towel to wipe the dirt from their feet but where  was the servant?

I love the idea of sending a message in a bottle. I have always wanted to write something on a piece of plain white paper, roll it up, slip it into a bottle and let the ocean’s currents take it away to a far away land. Safe inside the confines of the glass bottle, the words would travel through time and vast oceanic expanses.  After many months or years, the bottle would wash up onto the shore and eventually into someone’s hands.