I spent a few hours, actually only minutes, remembering and reliving things that crushed my heart these past few years…the tears flowed, the breath caught in my chest…BUT I just cannot do it for long…I cannot dwell on loss and betrayal, sickness and what follows…I cannot do it and still see the sun, catch the humor in an oft repeated knock-knock joke, taste the salt in the caramel…so much is lost reliving the past…so I pulled them out, but very soon put them back in their respective boxes and will now shower, dress and attack the blessed puzzle on my coffee table before lunch with good friends. Let your hearts be glad, m’dears…it’s easier and sweeter that way…
I do not dismiss the grief and shame
you have spent years facing
I understand whence they come
I am your witness
I bear witness to the horror
I have an idea
watching your struggle
I suggest that your obsession with it all
is more damaging
imprisons your battered heart
enslaves your shattered mind
than the horrible events themselves
you cannot ignore
you cannot forget
certainly not forgive
you can break its hold
control its influence
box it up
allow yourself a few minutes
now and then
then put it away
where you can readily find it
then get back to life
“Get back to where you once belonged…”
one step at a time, eh?
I am kept ever humble…
whilst tearing out errant vinca vines from out the front garden, I reached down to pull up my sagging socks, only to realize ’twas the skin round my ankles drooping there
I see you bindweed
riding Virginia Creeper
across the back wall.
Do not even think
I will allow you to stay,
after all the hail.
My word, her whisper startled me!
as did the closeness of her eyes magnified by my readers!
“I simply have to share this with you, ” words breathed in utter confidence.
I nod, trying to place her.
“I love to crochet…and I love all the crochet magazines, not just this one I’m holding.”
I cannot back up since we are so close to the counter…
“Well, it is the same every month, every month, in every magazine, see?
She holds it open to me, tapered fingers sliding down the spine,
“See?” dark eyes boring holes in mine.
I see it!
Someone has torn out an entire section of an article!
Someone has had the nerve to rip apart a library magazine, stealing the patterns, no doubt about it. Slight panic…I dart a look back into her eyes, trying to remember if I had done it. Then I remembered I don’t crochet, so…
“I’m going to tell this librarian over here right now. I’m going to tell her.”
slowly inched away, gathered my books, then hurried out the door, barely waiting for the automatic door to open… I do not know which librarian she nabbed.
“Ma’am,” she whispered, “I love to crochet…”
Why were all the screens
on all the big houses
backing to the open space
fluttering like delicate lace curtains
in the mid-day hot breeze?
Every screen on every house.
Then it dawned on me.
The hail shredded them ALL.
I cannot see it, but
somewhere nearby stands a cottonwood
with rustling, sparkling leaves,
deep, spreading roots,
long, rough barked branches
and cotton snow
drifting through the air,
sticking to bricks on the front porch,
attaching to the back umbrella,
floating atop the sprinkler water filling the morning gutters,
catching in my hair,
packing into the corners of those screens not shredded by the recent hail,
and clogging drains,
clogging the breath of all those allergic
to the simple things of Spring.
As I recall,
the air was cool
with every songbird on earth
and I thought
to step out
onto the treetops
to walk amongst the angels.
There has been no snow for over ten days
Neighbors have pulled chairs to driveways
Facing the sun, chins up, eyes closed –
Lizards soaking up warmth.
Anyone seen Jeannie walking Chanel?
or Sonya with wiggling Murphy?
We really need to have a potluck on our front lawns.
Hold those thoughts!
It snowed again!
Everyone back to the caves!