All is Well

Click.

Just a tiny click

No keys

My heart lurched

(My grand-dog by my side)

Call your son

Pocket pat

No phone

My heart flipped

(My grand-dog by my side).

Creativity vanished

Panic threatened

Blue sky or no blue sky

My heart began to pound

(My patient grand-dog by my side)

Deep breath

Reach out

But to whom?

My heart felt lost and sore

(My patient grand-dog by my side)

Gratitude

To a passerby for the time (I have a bus to catch)

To the neighbour across the street who let me call my son

To the neighbour next door who called a locksmith.

My heart slowed to an almost normal beat.

(My very patient grand-dog by my side)

Gratitude and relief

A friend arrived with a key because of 

the magic of communication from son to son to friend

My heart had jumped with joy

My very patient grand-dog out for a proper walk.

“All is well, nothing like a little adventure panic to get the blood flowing.”

~ Jeff Ward

A Very Creative Plan

    A Very Creative Plan

Joel sat on the front step of Grandfather’s porch exactly two days after Christmas. He was wondering. What was he wondering about? He was wondering about his new friends and how he could bring them back all the way across the country just in his new red backpack, with his new sketch pad and his new brightly coloured pencils and his pyjamas and ….and…. and…his forehead wrinkled. He turned his cap to the back and then to the front, hunched his jacket up close. 

If he asked his mother she would say - "Now Joel, you know that’s impossible.” Then she would go back to washing the dishes and sweeping the floor. 

If he asked his father, he would say - “Well, buddy, you just remember them but you can’t bring them with you.” Then he would go back to reading the morning newspaper. 

If he told his Grandfather, he didn’t really know sure for what he would say. He knew that his Grandfather would sit back in his rocking chair, pull out his pipe and after puffing on it two times - exactly two times, his grandfather would probably say “We’ll have to think about that.” But what his grandfather did say was “Well, have you thought about putting them in that new sketch pad of yours?”

“But, Grandfather, I only sketch stuff I see all the time like my silver bike or the blue birdhouse by the mailbox.”

“Well, Joel,”  his Grandfather said after exactly two puffs on his pipe “You could ask each of them to lie down on a page and you could sketch around him or her to get their shapes.”

“Oh. …But, Grandfather, Mr. Little is a giant and he is way bigger than a little piece of paper.”

After exactly two puffs on his pipe, Grandfather said - “Didn’t you tell me all your new friends are magic?”

Joel nodded exactly two times.

“Well then, ask Mr. Little to if he can make himself just as big as the page just long enough for you sketch him in his favourite colour. Then draw in his eyes and nose and all his clothes after he gets up. If that works for Mr. Little, you can try the same with Vanessa and with the faeries.”

“Hmm” said Joel after tapping the end of his nose exactly two times. “But then, I’ll just take pictures back, not my friends.”

And so Grandfather took exactly two more puffs on his pipe, rocked forward in his rocking chair and said. “Joel, my dear boy, when they lie down on the pages of your sketch book, they will leave some of their magic behind for you. Your sketches will be their shapes and their colours and with their magic you’ll have your friends with you at home”.

Joel jumped up from the step, turned his cap to the front, and gave his grandfather exactly two great big hugs. He ran into his grandfather’s house for his sketch pad and his brightly coloured pencils. Joel’s friends, Mr. Little the Giant and Vanessa, the Purple Dragon had listened as Grandfather explained their very creative plan to young Joel. Mr. Little was in his rocking chair as tall as Grandfather’s house. Vanessa, the Purple Dragon rested quietly in the gigantic pine tree in front of the house, her leathery wings folded gently behind her. The faeries had a hard time staying still. They wanted to fly around, chittering with the winter robins and lovely brown wrens. They finally settled themselves on Mr. Little’s broad shoulders dusted with snow and on Vanessa’s wide forehead, her eyelashes glittering with frost. Grandfather took exactly two puffs on his pipe and said to his guests  - “Please be careful with Joel's new things” looking pointedly at the faeries. “You have decided which of you will be first? It is a lovely day isn’t it when you can be with the people that love you.” Grandfather smiled, knocked the ashes out of his pipe exactly two times, leaned back and rocked himself to sleep, his Christmas quilt pulled up to his chin.

“A friend is a gift you give yourself.”

~ Robert Louis Stevenson

Only A Day

Only a day

Long and short

Quiet creativity

In a colouring book

In stories painted onscreen

In delicious small meals

In flickering fireplace flames

Son, dogs and kitty by my side

Resting mind, body and soul.

“Today is only one day in all the days that will ever be.”

~ Ernest Hemingway, For Whom the Bell Tolls

Natural Cure

A short morning walk

air freshened by soft snow.

Deep breaths in crisp coolness 

waken fleeting energy by

the creativity of nature.

“Walking is man’s best medicine.”

~  Hippocrates

The Missing Blog Post

Before pen on paper

fingers to keyboard 

body said otherwise.

out of the blue, 

too much rich food,

Christmas Eve and Christmas morning blew in a fog

an entire day blurred 

into the sofa. 

Incredibly grateful for my son's stay to offer tea and kindness,

movies rolled on, 

grand-dogs creatively snuggled beside me,

grand-cat slept on my shoulder

joy and merriment tucked away for the day

to be savoured for the love on Christmas Day.

“The happiness in your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts.”

~ Marcus Aurelius,  Meditations

Homecoming

Homecoming

He opened the door to find her standing there, crying. Quietly crying, poised and well-dressed.

“I was so afraid that you wouldn’t be home. Is mom here? Do you even want me here?”

Her father hadn’t said a word. Just stared at her.

“I’ve made such a mess of my life. Of your lives. And I’m so very, very sorry. I wouldn’t blame you if you asked me to leave.”

Manley just stood frozen while this woman cried and talked. He had heard it all before as had Genevieve,  his wife of 40 years. He had cut Cassandra out of his heart a long time ago, but the scar had never really healed. Today, the aching started again. They had not seen or heard from Cassie for several years and believed her dead or dying in some dirty back alley. But there she was….his Cassie-girl. Shivering and cold and crying. Manley felt soft warm hands on his shoulders.

“Manley? Who is it? Cassandra!! Oh my dear sweet daughter, come here to me! Let me get you warm. Manley, it’s ok. You come in here too and stop looking so shocked.”

Cassandra melted, sobbing, into her mother’s arms. Manley slowly stepped back into the front hall, quietly shutting out the cold, his hand lingered on the shiny brass door knob. He felt the need to do something. To get something. Go to the kitchen for some tea? He couldn’t really have seen Cassie. Is she really home?

“Manley, come in here a minute, honey. Cassie has something she wants to tell us.”

“Now, Cassie, your grandparents will be here any moment. Do you want to wait to give them your news? They will be so excited for you. Oh, honey, you’re scared. It’s ok. Maybe it would be easier to tell your dad and I first with just the three of us.”

Cassandra took a deep breath, held on to her mug of tea like it was the only thing keeping her still. She looked in her dad’s eyes. So suspicious, confused and ready to be hurt again. She had planned this day for the last year. Not by herself, but with her new friends, and with her counsellor.

“Well. Oh, this is so hard.” Cassandra  hesitated, tears slid slowly from her clear, green eyes. Then her words tumbled out without warning.

“You haven’t heard from me for so long because I have been doing a lot of work. I was in the hospital for quite awhile - that’s another story - I wouldn’t let them call you. I went through detox there then the social worker got me to a long term treatment center down east. I’ve been out from there for a year now and have my own apartment. I’ve kept a job at one of the thrift stores on the other side of the city since moving into my apartment. You also have a grandson. Caleb is two years old now. I have shown him your pictures. I would like him to meet his grandparents but will understand if you don’t want to.”

Manley’s voice had returned to him. Gruff and defensive.

“Cassie, this is quite a lot to take in when Christmas is just a day away. Sounds to me that you’re just creating your usual Christmas crisis. And where is this grandson anyway?”

“Dad, I’m not going to beg and I’m not going to fight either of you. I’m telling you all this for my son, your grandson. Right now, he is with his babysitter. I won’t wait for Grandma and Grandpa, but will go now. Please tell them I love them and hope to see them soon.”

Cassandra got up to leave, still wearing her coat and pulled her gloves from her pockets. Genevieve, always the placater of the family, turned to Manley. 

“Manley, it is Christmas. I know, that’s not an excuse and sometimes not even a good reason. Why don’t we have Cassie and little Caleb over for Christmas dinner tomorrow? In fact, Cassie, could you stay here a bit longer to help me get some of the salads ready for tomorrow.”

“I don’t know, mom. I’d love to but dad is pretty worried. We need to listen to him too.”

“Well, it might be alright. But it might be better if we went and picked up - Caleb? A good family name. Your mom could come too, but she needs to be here if your grandparents get here. I’d do it by myself but Caleb won’t know who I am. Do you think we could take a ride together?”

“Thank you dad. Mom, is that ok? I don’t live that far away so we’ll be right back.”

Genevieve felt such relief and joy at having her daughter back with her. The old niggle of fear, ever present, felt much more distant than it had for a long time.

“Every traveler has a home of his own, and he learns 

to appreciate it the more from his wandering.”

~  Charles Dickens

*Opening line from writingexercises.co.uk