Swallow the day whole.
It is finally over.
Drink to tomorrow.
Category: Life Topics
Dark Waves
Water anchors my dreams.
Memories bob upon rippled
whispers and the thirst of
the moonlight. I can hear
my name.
Bullfrogs inspire cricket songs.
The lightning tells my story.
Soft rumbles from angels
above, warning the lake of
the coming downpour.
Dark waves lapping are
a burden to the shore.
Step into the warm water with
dew drenched feet and
wipe the tears you
do not have.
Let the striking rain tell you
secrets in your sleep. Wishing
on stars is not a promise.
Hold onto the thread that
weaves shadows and light.
Claws
Crouching down I leaned his head against my chest and reached over to cut his claws. Scout was laying on his bed, content after drinking a bowl of cereal milk. Now was the time to move in. He flinched every time the clippers came near his paw. I know he trusts me, but this exercise is too much for him sometimes. Slowly I cut each front claw being careful not to cut below the quick.
With the snap of each cut, I could feel his body tense as his mind raced to find an escape route.
Halfway through, he struggled to stand up, but I pushed him back down to finish the job. Grabbing his hind lower leg, I turned the paw so I had a vantage point. He pushed against my chest trying to move me away. The pads of his feet were rough, so I firmly placed my fingers between each one, while
gripping the top of the paw with my thumb. The back feet are tricky. It was hard to tell how much to cut. Snap, shiver, snap shiver. I was almost done, as I reached for the second hind leg.
Taking the last paw in my hand, I enveloped him to keep him calm and to be precise. He was anything but calm. I didn’t want to miscalculate the cut length and hurt him. Snap. Snap. Snap. Scout suddenly pushed himself into a sitting position, and was halfway to his feet, when I saw last claw that I trimmed. I made him bleed. Enough was enough, he wasn’t playing anymore. I felt so guilty as I watched him jump from his bed to cross the room. He layed down behind Jamie, giving me a distrusting hound dog look. I almost completed this pedicure without incident, but now I’m the bad guy.
Note to self (and others): leave the claw trimming to the professionals. Even if you have the confidence to do-it-yourself, in the end it’s not worth it. You can lose the trust of your best friend. Although, we are rebuilding our relationship with scratches and delicious cheese.
Staples
Staple like papers,
bind them together by fact and
context. Forget not the
buried, for the bottom of the
stack will get to breath in time.
Pile high the papers that
gather anxiety and dust.
Scribbles show my wanderings.
Staple my thoughts to
some evidence.
Pick a time to attack the growing
mass, like it’s a cancer growing on
your desk, growing in your mind.
Bills will be considered last.
Prioritize your senses,
like a cat stalks it’s prey.
Embrace the low hanging
fruit. Make Lemonade.
Dig into your
campaign with half-hearted
interest. Leave nothing out.
Weakness is caused by delay.
Have Mercy
I woke up surrounded by strangers. We boarded the boat at 10pm the night before, in Tokyo Harbor. My son and I were visiting my brother for 10 days, and my sister-in-law, Hiromi, thought it was a good idea for me to visit her friend on a remote island. Her friend, Raymond, was teaching English as a second language to the native children of Nijima Island. So, my son and I, alone, boarded the ship not knowing where we were going or who we were going to see.
In the bowels of the boat, we carved out some space on the floor amongst hundreds of Japanese travelers. These were the economy lodgings; a few square feet of carpet. Shoes were removed and left in the small aisleway. Adam and I took our spot, sitting indian-style, and tore open a bag of cheese doodles. While we crunched on our snack, I could hear muffled conversations that had the word “Americano.” They were talking about us. Adam was 5 years old, and gave little notice to his surroundings as he chomped on his food. But, I became worried with the chatter, as well as the captain rattling off life-saving instructions in Japanese over the loud-speaker. People listened intently, as they moved their heads from one point of reference to the other. Obviously, I did not understand where the life jackets were, or where to go in the event of an emergency. I was screwed. After realizing this, I nervously glanced over at my sweet child with his face covered in cheese dust. I couldn’t help but smile.
The 10 hour journey was uncomfortable, but we managed with what we had, rolling up our sweatshirts to make pillows. I opened my eyes in the morning to see palm trees through the portholes. What an amazing sight. People were snoring all around me, when in my half-conscience mind, I noticed that Adam was not there. I momentarily panicked, but realized he couldn’t have gone far. He was always independent, so his absence was not really a surprise. I jumped up, put my shoes on in the aisle, and headed to the upper decks.
As I emerged from below, I was in awe of the sight of Japanese fisherman coming from around an island cove. I squinted in the sun, while watching their tiny boats bobbing up and down in the rough waves. It looked like at any time one of these waves was going to break the boat into pieces. Each boat would emerge from around a shoreline and speed past our ship every two minutes or so. The wind was gentle and kind, keeping the air crisp but not cold. I had one eye on the fisherman and the other looking out for Adam. He finally appeared chasing a boy a few years older than him. I turned to embrace him, as he smashed into my legs.
After calming Adam down, we walked along the pristine deck, stopping every few minutes to soak in the sight of the chain of islands we were passing. The boy and Adam decided to continue their game of chase, as I stood at the railing of the boat. A Japanese woman walked up to me and started a conversation. She told me that she was on the boat with her boyfriend, and that they were very happy together. As the conversation continued, she mentioned that she has a little boy, who she sent away to live with friends in Georgia, USA. This was important to her because she now had a boyfriend and there was no room in her life for her son.
I listened feeling a bit odd, as I am a single mother and would never send my child away for a boyfriend, but OK. She then asked me if I was a Christian. I said yes, and she requested that I pray with her.
I figured it is a duty to pray with a fellow Christian if asked, so I accepted.
She began, “Dear God”
I followed with, “Dear God”
She said, “Have Mercy on Me”
“Have Mercy on me” I continued.
She stopped me right there and corrected me, saying, “No, No, Have Mercy on ME!”
My mind came to a complete halt. I thought, this woman just deliberately dumped her kid to take on a lover, and she is looking not only for mercy from God, but wanted me to have mercy for her too. That was too much to take.
“Lady” I said. “You just got rid of your kid for a guy, and think that you need all of God’s mercy for yourself. It sounds to me like you have everything figured out to suit your needs.” She implied that I wasn’t worthy to receive mercy, it was all about her. I was disgusted.
She looked at me with feigned shock, as her boyfriend stepped closer to her. Why didn’t I keep my mouth shut I thought. I had a grave vision of this tall, strong guy throwing me overboard, to defend his love. And me, not knowing where the life rings were or how to scream help in Japanese. I slowly backed away and said, “have-a-nice-day”, as I tensely shuffled away to collect Adam at the other end of the deck.
We had a wonderful visit with Raymond on Nijima Island, going to the public baths, singing Karaoke and drinking sake. Adam and I toured the small island, meeting craftsmen in the village. We enjoyed local treats and traditions. We even watched the world surfing championships on the beach one day. So when it was time to go home, I silently asked God for mercy as we boarded the ship to take us back to Tokyo. I said a few prayers for our safe return, and for the safe return of all on board.
We didn’t have cheese doodles for the return trip.
Waiting
I check Facebook with the sound of hammering in the background. Jamie is in the yard removing the legs to the dock. He needs to put new legs on for the summer season, these are too short. I just finished raking about a half hour ago. I’ve had enough for one day. I used to be “outdoorsy” but prefer the company of my computer as the tapping keyboard lulls me away. It’s time for the spring cleanup and my mind is still frozen in the Winter.
I do prefer the Spring to Winter, but this time of year is a waiting game. The dredges of the last season are scattered on our lawn. Leaves, branches and twigs remind us of the toll our trees payed over the cold biting Winter. Acorns crunch as I walk across the lawn, soon to be mulched by the lawnmower. Should I think about buying flowers? Not yet, I decide, as the temperatures are still too turbulent. The Sun is beginning to be our ally again though, melting the Spring snow quickly and giving us some warmth as we do our chores. I cringe when I look at the empty flower pots, thinking about the work to come. But, the thought of lazy summer days and the beauty of the blossoms melts my heart.
We wait for our boat to show up from the boat yard, so we continue to spend our free time picking up and unpacking. No snow in the forecast this week. I still don’t feel like there’s any progress, as I look at the calm lake. The lawn looks better, but the dock still sits above the shoreline waiting to be put in the water. Temperatures will be cold tonight. The boat will be here in two weeks, but it feels like an eternity.
I type with my feet wrapped in layers of warmth, just thinking about shorts and flip flops – and no more cleanup. The stripped down ease of the Summer engages my mind to wander. Why does this transition to Spring bother me so much? I don’t mind the work; it’s just the anticipation of Summer that gets me out of sorts. Transitions are neither here nor there. They are usually a placeholder for better or worse things to come.
I know that this Summer will be fantastic entertaining our friends and family. Until we put away the boat, and start raking leaves in the crisp Autumn air, waiting for Winter to come.
Structure
Follow in line or you’ll
hit your head.
The ideal formula is full
of bloody thorns and regret.
Even cats enjoy one life at
a time. Take a deep breath,
learn your own lessons.
Discipline under-minds my
attitude. Freedom is my
reward for failing and prying
open possibilities.
Why must I have structure?
My spirit is aloft with imperfect
behavior.
Authority can smell like a
rotting fish. Hold your nose,
and see through it. Feign
rapt attention.
Say your prayers, and memorize
the absurd.
Backseat arguments were not the desired convention.
Good children
stay in line with the help of sugar and spice.
Claustrophobic rides provoke tempers and screaming.
Wonderful memories of disorder.
Don’t make me turn this car around!
Turn your car around.
Depression
Depression
Pull up your bootstraps.
The veil is all in your head, not over your face.
Depression will eat you up.
Self -talk becomes tedious.
Sick of my own voice.
Words can’t stop the pain.
Pain can’t stop the words.
My body aches.
Small pills introduce me
to my real self.
A life outside the dark shell.
Sunshine warms my face.
Life has possibilities.
Dear Diary
Dear Diary
Today I was bored. I drove to work making lists in my head. There’s all sorts of stuff that I need to unpack; serious, embedded, moldy to-dos that hover and poke at my psyche. Why is it these demands always rush to my conscience when I am driving? I’m the type to bury my head when I don’t want to face something. The list is much too long. I must call my son, file paperwork, repair my windshield, walk the dog, pay some bills and renew my passport. You never know when a European vacation could cross my path. I purposefully wish my list away, as I reach to turn on the radio. A few things linger in my mind, but not everything. Noise is bliss.
The center of town looks as it always does, serene suburbia, except for an ambulance parked down the street with its lights flashing. I give it little thought. Seems like more of an emergency when the sirens are blaring. I park in the town center, and cross the street to go to the town hall where my office is located. I notice some teenagers coming out of a convenience store. They are laughing and waking close together, like I remember. I ask myself, “Do I wish I were a teenager again?” No. But, I would like to be that carefree again, maybe for just a day, or just an hour. My mental list switches to a work agenda, as I put the key in the door to unlock it.
Uploading video files gives me some time to reflect. I wonder how my friend is doing, who lost her father yesterday. I have to pick up some flowers for her. Add it to the list. Upload completed.
Who will watch these videos that I’ve worked on? Will it be important to them? I doubt people have “watch public access” on their to-do lists, but I’m hopeful. It’s why I keep doing what I do. Scanning the program listing, I notice a number of shows that I’ve produced and feel good about it. I’m not changing the world, but maybe I’m reaching someone. Just anyone.
So why am I writing to you Diary, when this boring day gives me so little to tell? Because, some days are just filled with a sense of serenity like the cool waters of an inlet. Nothing to report. I should embrace these days, even though they are just a footnote. No one I love is sick or hurting. Work was done and was uneventful. Demanding lists invaded my space, but I will listen to my heart not my head. I tend to turn away, and evade the urgent anyway . I just want to live life on my own terms, not on what is expected. I want to choose what is important to me; simply.
Reevaluate this critical list to see what surfaces.
I will pick up some flowers and call my son.
Untold
Remember and rue.
Mirrors aren’t the enemy.
Mistakes go untold.