His desperation was clear as we locked eyes. I was shocked that my empathy came so fiercely and so quickly. He followed me through the back-alley gate. My mind reeled with the dissonance of the encounter as we wandered up the invisible path toward the bungalow. The distance between the two of us shrank and my fear grew – irrational really, considering his size. I called out to my daughter as I reached the concrete sidewalk in the side-yard. I was hoping she would hear me as she scoured her kitchen clean from our latest meal. All the windows were open after the summer rain, so I was hopeful.
Tag: #grateful
Forgotten dream…
I am living a dream that I forgot I had.
I spoke it out loud to him years ago and the universe remembered. Continue reading “Forgotten dream…”
Good Friday’s pen brought me here…
water…
womb water – the water of a transcendent creation
lake of the woods water – the water of a pre-teen childhood
creek water – the water of a relaxed marriage
pond water – the water of a changing of seasons
okanagan water – the water of a triad of female relationships
ocean water – the water of a life’s rhythm
frozen water – the water of a winter’s work
tap water – the water of a grief’s journey
baptismal water – the water of an anabaptist faith
Selah
In this Selah moment I am drawn into the rhythm of the seasons, of the years Continue reading “Selah”
With this ring, I thee wed…now what?!?
With this ring, I thee wed…now what?!? Continue reading “With this ring, I thee wed…now what?!?”
Childhood Freedom…the Path to Bliss
Now: With joy returning, my memories are filled with vignettes from my childhood. I find myself reliving the times that my brother and I created our own adventures on 365 acres of rolling, swampy fields – in the land of 10000 lakes. We didn’t know there would be a “Maker Movement” one day. “Making” was the work of our childhood. I have experimented with fictionalizing this story by writing in third person, putting in one thing that isn’t true, and renaming the main character. I wonder if my brother would be able to find the “one untrue thing”.
The bottomless, 4 sided oak crate had arrived just before supper. Sophie watched from the living room window as her dad pulled it from the back of the station wagon and abandoned it on the gravel driveway – an adventure waiting to happen. She hollered for her brother to come look. “He just has to see this thing – It’s HUGE!” she thought. It reminded Sophie of the box that the washing machine had arrived in. She just knew they could “make” something with it.
The two of them gulped down their meals so that they could get outside before the sun set. Sophie’s long, uneven wisps of blonde hair fluttered in the breeze as she and her brother rolled the crate around the house to the side-yard where they had left their Radio Flyer. Their breath caught and their chests heaved as they nudged the crate onto the wagon – scratching the Flyer’s red paint until gray metal streaks appeared. Continue reading “Childhood Freedom…the Path to Bliss”
The Red Plastic Rose
When I was 16, I didn’t really appreciate gifts of flowers the way other girls did.
The bouquets he gave me always wilted and their petals littered my dresser top long before they should.
I probably didn’t cut the stems before I put them in water.
I preferred vanilla scented candles and whimsical silver charms.
One weekend, I arrived at his parents’ house. He was leaning against the garage door with a plastic rose in his hand. Continue reading “The Red Plastic Rose”
a Now epiphany…
Now: I am preparing for an Amherst Writers and Artists week of training. I am doing my homework – reading Writing Alone and With Others by Pat Schneider. And…I am spending an incredible amount of time thinking about writing. In this moment I realize that one of the reasons I am taking the risk of putting my work out there on a blog is because it is a way for me to let go. Posting my writing lets it stand on its own. It brings closure to the never-ending process or act of writing. And, in some incomprehensible but real way, allows me to move forward. Now is a healing place.
Tables Turned
A year ago we took a family trip to Vancouver Island…
He is still eternally gone, and yet forever here
He joined us as we felt the cool shadows cast by aged cedars
He embodied our heartache as the ocean swells brought their rhythm to the coast
He watched as the young ones clambered over craggy, black rocks – ancient, forever here Continue reading “Tables Turned”
Now Brings Joy 