Slush splashing by busy cars
Footprints on sidewalks melting away
Leafy autumn debris exposed
Cross-country skiers ski
Joggers jogging
Walkers walking (I was one of them)
Tobogganers tobogganing
And way out on the frozen lake
not succumbed to the sunshine
a family sleds and plays
p.s. - all shapes and sizes of dogs benefited from all this activity.
“Some old-fashioned things like fresh sir and sunshine are hard to beat.”
~ Laura Ingalls Wilder
when I’m on my own ~
like a tuning fork’s chime ~
a joyful surprise
I love it when I laugh out loud
in my own silence ~
like the jingle of a jingle bell
a little bit of happy.
I love it when I laugh out loud
no one around to prompt me ~
like a baby’s laughter ~
a tiny bubble’s popping and splash
I love it when I laugh out loud
behind closed doors ~
when I listen to comedians
or ~ I just talk to myself!
“Laughter is the sun that drives winter from the human face.”
~ Victor Hugo
silent, flat and
a plateau for a rest
uninvited, stretching and
a pause to refresh.
“Get comfortable being uncomfortable, that’s how you break
the plateau and reach the next level.”
~ Chalene Johnson, author
Review, Revision, Edit and Update
My review of We Meet Again this afternoon, revealed little except a missing period. I was tempted to alter some wording on another sentence. Tinkering with what one has written can make things worse instead of better (and is a bad habit). I decided not to do any tinkering.
We Meet Again
Dez Eliot stood on the balcony of her eight story apartment. The snowfall had been forecast, but Dez was always surprised when the snow actually fell. The silence of a snowfall was so like the silence of a heavy fog. Even the sun glowing through was comfortable. As beautiful as the land was, in and after a snowfall, Dez was always glad when it was gone. She had no idea how people could live throughout winters full of snow. Hopefully, this snow would only last a day or so, but until then she had a good book to read.
~~~~~
Desperanza Eliot and Emelina Beaufort-Crawford, sisters, lived in separate worlds. Dez, here in her apartment and Emelina, newly married for the second time, on an estate. Dez, barely scraped by with small jobs, part-time employment - now dried up due to the pandemic - was getting unemployment insurance. Emelina, left comfortable and secure in her first husband’s will, was now married to a doctor who worked at Hartley General. Dez had been on her own for a long time, except for this past year. A series of missteps and flukes brought on by her own bad judgement and pandemic restrictions had reunited her with her sister. It was that March when the two sisters met again after a ten year period of separation. They had not separated on the best of terms - neither one of them could tell anyone why. The last time they had seen each other was at their father’s funeral. The Funeral Chapel on Cherry Road on the way out of town. Dez had gone off on her own and several years later, Emelina had married, then was widowed. Although living alone she was a rich widow with servants on a large estate. Dez did not know how she would be received - at least a police officer made the phone call for her.
Dez thought all these things while she sat in her favourite chair - the old one that had been her father’s - good book open on her lap, a bowl of vinegar and onion potato chips on the side table. She had not thought much about her sister in those days and now she thought of her everyday. She had known nothing about her sister’s life. Even when they were settling their father’s estate and belongings, Dez was the only one who wanted any of it. She had kept in touch with the woman who had Power of Attorney. Emelina had given written consent that Dez could make all the decisions. She hesitated at that, but Em had insisted and went traveling. After the funeral, they lost touch. In the last year, there had never been the right time to discuss those years with Emelina. Dez was still angry about her sister’s seeming indifference at the time. She did not know that her sister had gotten a bit uppity and high society, trying to ignore her humble but comfortable beginnings. Dez didn’t know anything of that first marriage and the incredible grieving that tied her sister to her bed, only allowing her to go out for spa days or to a board meeting.
“But then she didn’t know anything about me either. Whether I was alive or dead, rich or poor, did I have some high muckety muck career or sell pencils on the street.” Dez laughed out loud at herself. “Does anyone still sell pencils on the street? I guess I’m still mad at Em. But not the Em I know now - I guess that’s why I’m still not talking about any of it.” She picked up her book and started reading. Putting it down on her lap, she gazed out the patio doors. “The snow has lightened up. I wonder what it’s like out at the estate.” She picked up the book again, but didn’t read. “We had been inseparable until we were both teenagers. I got into punk music and that life. Em kept herself all neat and tidy, on student council and every other school activity. She was always the pretty one - and smart. Still is. I never stayed long with any boyfriend and she and Michael Beaufort were an item then and did get married later.” Dez put her feet up on the ottoman that had been her mother’s, pulled a lap blanket up and settled to read. The only sounds, the ticking of her kitchen clock and the crunch of potato chips.
~~~~~
Buzz…….Buzz ………Buzz……..“What? What’s going on? Who is buzzing at this hour? Where am I?” Dez stood abruptly, dropping her book and getting tangled in her lap blanket. Buzz….Buzz…..Buzz…. “I’m coming. Just a damn minute. Whoever you are, you just woke me up.” She wiped her eyes, pushed her hair back, untangled herself from her blanket, and just about tripped on her book. Picking up the call phone, she practically yelled into it “Who is it? If you’re wanting a place out of the cold this isn’t it!” Dez was about to slam the call phone down. “Dez! Don’t hang up. It’s me - Emelina. Let me in - it’s freezing out here.’
“Between sisters, often, the child’s cry never dies down.
“Never leave me,” it says; “do not abandon me.””
~ Louise Bernikow
hood tightened over the woolen toque pulled low over my ears.
woolen mittens layered over thin gloves
zipped up, buttoned up, bundled up
homeward into a wind ~ thin and cold
glad I was dressed warmly
for my walk of fifteen minutes
from a distance I saw them
they looked like leaves
left over from the fall,
but ~ bundled in their own feathery coats,
tiny tail feathers gave them away
a small flock of grey/brown sparrows
~ tails to the wind
an unexpected reminder of life in the cold.
“The unexpected is what makes life possible.”
~ Ursula K.LeGuin, the Left Hand of Darkness
with restricted movements,
fear of infection kept at bay
from a distance ~
from unknown crowds ~
even one or two ~
still taking risks
in the grocery store
in a taxi
on the bus
walking in the park
when I am so uncertain
but still I keep writing
feeling the space
trying to find the right fit
in my own home ~ just me ~
no longer skirting the fray and fringes of life
~ tired of the skirting ~
lost in it’s folds,
blinded by the draperies I’ve hidden behind
always wanting more
not knowing what ‘more’ is
until here I am fitting, sitting, writing
at my kitchen table knowing life is abundant.
My cup overflows and I am grateful.
Not for the pandemic that kills ~
but for the space it has foisted upon me
“Make the most of yourself….for that is all there is of you.”
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
In the pauses -
when I have to wait -
when I have little thoughts -
put behind the gate -
of my mind:
‘I’ll do it later’ -
‘I will remember...’ -
brilliant orange or lime green
sticky notes remind me of
my thought - no drifting away
to remember tomorrow
or next week
or never
when it’s too late
because more life has
cropped up to be played
afraid I’ll miss something
my mother said
but I miss so many things -
these thoughts don’t stick
unless
they are lime green or brilliant orange
and stick to the table in front of me.
“Where does a thought go when it’s forgotten?”
~ Sigmund Freud
