At the water's edge on the deck of a dream clinging to space
The woman felt depression lift, perhaps only by a centimeter, but lift it did.
She knew the past made love precarious for all that had happened here.
Her presence could smother remains of the pain that was birthed in this place
Where looking and seeing and saving began.
An exorcism if you will, of what (or who) did not belong.
And now? Love is not so precarious as it was, please God.
Not at all.
When red confetti falls
And the woods out my door is living and dying.
Grant me O Lord an eye to see and a heart to feel.
These are the days when the wood-smoke curls
And the pine cones crackle
When logs are split
And the crock pot simmers.
Grant me O Lord a mind to ponder and love unbounded.
Tonight is a night when the air is moist and the stars shine low
When moonbeams reach deep, deep in our rooms while we sleep content.
Grant us O Lord a nourished soul and a giving spirit.
Grant us wisdom to gather your gifts and count them, one-by-one-by-one.
Amen
N.N.
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| Mr. Wiggles |
Last evening standing with Mr. Wiggles by the back door I could see my husband in the window light clearing the dishes. What a lovely scene I thought. But Mr. Wigs and I could hear the coyotes and they were too close for comfort. Once it's dark, even if it's only 5 o'clock, we go out with him to ease his fears. He stays close by then, not venturing beyond the trees that border the driveway. There was barking last night where there are no houses or pets, nothing but woods and train track. It was too early for that mad howling we hear some nights late, but Mr. Wiggles knew.
Wiggles is a brave boy, routing deer during the early morning which always amazes me. Such skittish creatures that a 10 lb maltipoo can scatter a herd and they both know it. He plays his part and they play theirs. Running and barking while they gracefully leap and dodge. He can't chase them far.
By the time we came inside the kitchen was wiped down and it was time to watch another episode of one of those exciting series all of us get hooked on. These are the simplest of pleasures. In North Carolina a mild autumn night, the dog, dinner over and a little TV. When I walked out with Mr. Wiggles again at 11 pm he made quick work of it. I bet you're finding simple pleasures too.
What Still Lives
I always slept with my head at the foot of the bed because that's where the open window was. A hot breeze in summer with Grandma's large rotary fan facing outward at the porch door. The sleeping porch, upstairs, in the old house where we all lived. Better in rain, my face wet. Better still in winter, my face cold. Window cracked, covers bunched. Comfort every night; every night content. What can you hold from your childhood? Who were you then? Think it, write it, believe it. It still lives.
Did you play outdoors? Did the dog follow you to the creek? I could hang by my knees upside down from a bar and swing. Climb the ladder on the home-made swing set and sing show tunes to confound the neighbors. Make my way down a hill covered with cacti for no reason. Dress like a cow girl in rawhide vest and boots. Climb trees. Oh how we love to climb trees. Do you hold memories dear? Remember them, write them, believe them. They still live.
Live a large life. Live a small life. Who can tell the difference? It's your life. Live in one town in one house on one street or one apartment in one building on one block or one old house that your father cannot repair for love or money. Live with grandmas or parents or brothers or pets or anyone who shows you love. Loud homes or quiet, books or no books, trees or sidewalks, fried bologna or fresh fish. You still live.
N.N.
Live your life in such a way that the
entire planet doesn't dance in the
street when you lose your job.
Anonymous
This quote is making the rounds. People are in a playful mood. Not everyone of course. Some Americans today feel like other Americans felt four years ago when the election was over. But most of us have been trying hard to find our calm this Fall. Americans have been planning how to safely vote since early October at least. This week we've been counting on our latest essential workers to get the job done. And they have. Poll workers in all 50 states have repetitive-motion aches and pains from opening and tabulating thousands of ballots. Under stress to be careful and thorough, Republicans and Democrats have sat at tables together and counted votes. They deserve our thanks.
So often we have taken pride in busyness, in checking things off our lists. But there's a respite now. Last night people were celebrating in the streets like children. Yesterday it seemed no one could sit still. Dancing, fireworks and speeches of a lifetime, one by our first woman Vice President-elect, the other by a man who promises to tackle the virus and work for unity. I awoke with a sense of lightness I haven't had in a long time.
When we were children our lives were simpler. Maybe because we didn't have smart phones or Fitbits and could hang out in person rather than on Zoom, a technology whose very name is synonymous with rushing. Or because the grownups did the worrying. But for this moment, like children, we want to play.
Friends just texted to stop over for a glass of wine in their garden. Other friends are coming to our patio tomorrow morning for coffee and cake. So right now, let's linger in this moment and let our lives be simpler. Let's enjoy our democracy. Court challenges or no, everything is working. There's a reason to linger today in America.
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| Local Celebration, Lucky Strike Tower |
