Category: Life Topics

Life Topics

The Lake

Jo Toale

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A house alive come summer
breezes.  The lake becomes a
gathering place for song and
soul.

Nurture what you have internal,
it lays waiting in the winter.  The
buds will bring out what’s forgotten.
Splashing and laughter paint
the sky.

Make warm memories, and be sure
to remember.
Time can look through the window
with narrow eyes and only a spark of light.
Dilute the unforgiven, and breathe in
deep comfort.

Water waves slowly,  planning  your daydreams.
Move in harmony with the clouds.   Look at
the dog chasing the ball.  Paddle strong and
hold on tight, diversions await you.

Shake when you get out of the water.

Life Topics

Don’t Tell Me

Jo Toale

DSCN4007Don’t tell me I can’t.
Water finds low ground and the
Salmon swim upstream.

Plan your journey well,
win over doubters, their skin
is too tight and dull.

Balance each step with
fauna and rock, sturdy feet
brings a steady mind.

Build dams and open
hearts, piecing what makes you whole.
Bathe in the water.

Life Topics

Mid-Life

Jo Toale

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Opening the door, she stared at him with a perplexed look on her face.  He was there to pick up the kids for an overnight visit and stood in the doorway.  She was expecting him, but he looked different.  This transaction was typically uncomfortable, as the separation was still new, only this encounter was different.  Olivia stepped back and looked directly at his ear before she announced his arrival to the kids.

“So, what’s going on with your ear?” She slowly said in an acidic tone.
Jason smiled and replied, “Oh, um, this?” pointing to his diamond studded earring in his left ear.

He had gotten his ear pierced two weeks after he left the house.  He knew it screamed mid-life crisis, but why not.  Jason had spent the better part of his life living within the lines as a dutiful husband and father.  The piercing wasn’t planned, but he was delighted at how it looked – very cool.  It also brought a smile to his face knowing that Olivia would hate it.

“Yeah, that”, she said.
“I guess you could call it an earring” he replied with pleasure.
“I think it looks stupid” she continued, “What are you having a mid-life crisis?”
Jason tensed up and quietly replied in almost a whisper, staring into her eyes, “perhaps I am.”
“I get it, this must impress the ladies” she said sarcastically.
“No, it impresses me.  I did this for me, something for ME”, he strongly avowed.

Olivia shook her head in disapproval and turned to see what was taking the kids so long. She was somewhat shaken by seeing this change in Jason.  This tiny earring was a line in the sand.  It meant that he was starting to live his own life.  Yes, it was a small thing, revealing that her husband was already turning into a different man, a single man.  He would have never been so free-spirited if they were still married, and she liked it that way.  He was not the man who left the house last month, and that scared her in some small way.

Jason held his ground in the doorway, feeling an emotional freedom.  The piercing was just a start to his new life, his mid-life.  He would always be committed to his children, and to the support of his ex-wife, but everything else would be different.    No more living a robotic and planned lifestyle.   That’s over.  From now on, his days would be a spontaneous construction of joy; building experiences and relationships without the assistance of a safety net, or an overbearing wife.

Jason and Olivia spent a year after the earring encounter fighting over what was his, hers and theirs.   It was a difficult and emotional journey claiming ownership on things they had built together.  He gave in more than not, just to move the process along.  In her mind, she gathered points against him with every asset she acquired.  The kids were somewhat stable, but uncomfortable and confused at times, as they were both under  8 years old.  But, in the end they each had a new life to be happy about – he with a new companion 11 years his junior, and she with a comfortable home in the suburbs.

Jason celebrated the divorce by buying a new convertible sports car to go with the pierced ear.  With the wind in his graying hair, and his girlfriend next to him, he felt completely content.  He didn’t know where this road was leading him, but he was game for wherever he ended up.

Life Topics

Nana

Jo Toale

Irish-Soda-BreadI ran down the long staircase, rushing as I lost my breath.   She was at the bottom of the stairs waiting for me.  Nana had passed 10 years ago, but there she was standing on an oriental rug silently watching me, dressed in a wool coat with her back against the front door.  I saw Auntie Mary standing next to her, looking into the room to her left and right.  Mary had died a few years before Nana, which broke her heart to pieces.  It broke everyone’s heart really.  They were now constant companions in their world, just as they were in life.  The three of us stared at each other as I caught my breath, standing on the landing.  Why were they here?

The house was an old Victorian where I lived with my then husband.  It was a magnificent house that showed off the glory of it’s time.  Crown molding, hardwood floors and fireplaces anchored the rooms with splendor.  I loved the house, but hated the marriage.  The growing struggle to keep a meaningless marriage together was exhausting, set against the grand harmony of this structure.  I had to get out.

Both Mary and Nana were now totally focused on me.  I tried to talk, but words wouldn’t come out. There was an expression of sympathy from Mary, and I slowly nodded my head to signal to her that I was OK.   But, I wasn’t OK.  There were so many things that I needed to talk to Nana about, to have her save me.  She brought comfort to me when she was alive, just by giving me tea or feeding me her incredible butter-slathered Irish Bread.   So many times, after she passed, I looked for the nourishment only a grandmother can give.  I wanted Nana to talk, but she just smiled at me.

Turning, she opened the door and walked out to the front porch.  I could see Mary move into the formal parlor out of the corner of my eye, as I slowly followed Nana outside.  It was a cold autumn evening that smelled of maple leaves and frost.  I followed in a hypnotic daze, as my shoes crunched on twigs and leaves.  She stopped at a bench that I don’t remember ever being on the property, and we sat down.

I put my head in her lap and started to cry.  I cried for bad choices that I had made, I cried for getting into a bad marriage,  I cried for not being a better mother, I cried for not being the ideal daughter, I cried for global warming for God sakes, I cried for nothing at all, and I cried because I simply missed her.  She had been gone much of my adult life.  Still silent, she rubbed my back and arm and told me without speaking that she loved me and will always watch over me.  I would have loved to hear that sweet Irish brough, but it wasn’t important at the moment.  Everything was said.

I haven’t been visited in my dreams by Nana since that night, but she does live in my heart.  I think of her often when I need relief, the way she rubbed my back on that bench.  I have a wonderful mother, who is an incredible grandmother to my children.  She comforts them, and gives them tea when they need it.  Her Irish bread is good, just not as good as Nana’s.