Depressurized

Progress without pressure is a tough one, but my own pressure is different

 ~ a backlog of should and shouldn't block my desires, my intentions to accomplish great or ordinary things logs made of should, huge and heavy, 

depending on whose words I caught and tossed 

in the river of words in my head, 

(some carry more weight than another). 

So:

Ignore the should’s - 

after all they’re not real logs. 

If they were my head would have exploded by now.

Make it a game with colours, shapes and music ~

just take it off the top to get it done

kind of like the old game Pick Up Sticks!

 

Banish the resistance: I am smart enough to do the tough stuff.

So there! 

Once order is set ~ the order that feels right to my heart

Pressure rearranged, game played ~ I can proceed.

“Should is a futile word. It’s about what didn’t happen. 

It belongs in a parallel universe. 

It belongs in another dimension of space.”

~ Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin

Many Shades

Epilepsy ripples through humanity. A pretty basic statement. How then do I fit that into my own story? I am but one of many with epilepsy and our stories are all different. Not only the details but the type of epilepsy we each own. The extent of how our daily lives are affected. The only commonality we each have is that epilepsy is an electrical brain disorder with many causes, and some diagnoses have no known cause. My epilepsy is the ‘no known cause’ kind. My story then is an answer to the question: What besides medication can I do to support my control of some of my life? Simple: Stress management, take my medications as ordered, realize and dampen triggers to my seizures and regular sleep hygiene. My story with epilepsy management is much greater than the disorder or just taking medications. Some people's stories may be similar to my own. The stories of others are much more detailed and frightening than mine. Unmanageable and atypical seizures, multiple medications, inability for regular or meaningful employment, surgical treatments, drastic mood changes, suicidal ideation, marital problems and learning disabilities. Too much drama? Scary? For those that live with it, it definitely is.

Today - March 26th, is an annual day for Epilepsy Awareness. Each province and state has an Epilepsy Organization. The Canadian Epilepsy Alliance is Canada’s national organization for epilepsy information.

“The human spirit is stronger than anything that can happen to it.”

~ George C. Scott

Resource:  https://www.canadianepilepsyalliance.org

There are Times

Times my hands show me how old I really am - thick ropy veins, skin thin and wrinkled

Old scars from a nick here or there 

from rose bushes or blackberry vines, 

cuts from the paring knife when preparing meals, 

one white patch from a cooking burn

lumpy and bumpy fingernails 

that snap off too easily, 

(I could blame that on the pandemic 

with no access for a mani/pedi, 

but no, they are as old as the rest of me, 

and have been through as many battles)

when I think of these so called battles ~

they are not wars fought, but life lived. 

kneading, stretching or punching the life into bread, 

rolling balls of cookie dough between my palms, 

squishing ground meat into meat balls, 

wrapping both hands around a fresh warm cup of coffee 

when the day has grown cold; 

penning these words and thousands more 

crocheting afghans that would not win any prizes 

at the fair but kept me focused on the next stitch ~ 

gifts for the babies of many family and friends

pruning bushes and trees ~ feeling the strength of my grip 

all the way to my shoulders. 

fingers digging in spring soil feeling the richness of dirt. 

picking peas in the garden and eating as many as possible. 

tenderly holding a warm peach picked from a summer tree 

holding it to my lips, feeling the juice sticky and sweet 

on my hands, dripping all the way to my elbows. 

I am grateful for my hands and 

when I think of all these things, 

my hands are no longer old and wrinkled

but silent diaries of my life, 

sculpted while I live with them 

gifts that caress me when I lotion my skin, 

hide my eyes when I cry and 

make silly faces to make babies and children laugh. 

And best of all, 

my hands have held my babies - 

my sons, my grandson and my great-granddaughter. 

“He who works with his hands and his head and his heart is an artist.”

~ Francis of Assisi

Chapter Two, Episode Twenty-Six - Keeping A Secret - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

Re-reading this two or three times, I looked for sentences that felt awkward, ending too abruptly or ran on a bit much. In dialogue, where these issues fit with the character or the scene, I wrote in adjustments that showed the emotion. Still need lots of practice, though. 

Keeping A Secret

“I’m sure it’s fine Em. Let’s go see what Cook has on the stove. It certainly smells good, whatever it is.” The newlyweds, Jeremy Crawford and Emelina Beaufort, now Crawford, arrived home just as the sun was setting. Their week-long trip to the mainland had been a romantic one. They had traveled light to keep up the appearance that they were just going up island for a couple of days. Emptying the car’s trunk took only moments. Slinging their back packs over their shoulders, they each gripped a handle of the food basket and walked up the steps to the kitchen door. Opening the back door, Emelina called out “Hello. Cook? Is anyone here? That’s strange….she doesn’t leave the lights on when she goes home. She’s very strict about that. There’s nothing on the stove and it’s been turned off so she must have just put it all away.”

“Maybe Digby’s in his office and that’s why the lights were left on?” Jeremy walked to Digby’s office and tapped lightly on the door. “Digby? Are you in there? - Well, his door is closed so unless he’s busy with something that needs a closed door, he’s not here either. Let’s just get our things upstairs. We can come down and raid the refrigerator. We’ll watch TV - catch up on all the numbers of new cases.”

Emelina’s face clouded over. “Oh, Jeremy why do you want to get right back into hospital and pandemic issues? Can you not just wait? The numbers still be there tomorrow. Let’s just get settled in our bedroom. It is ours now you know. Or did we just have a fling, you’ll go back to town tonight and this elopement was just a dream!” Emelina grinned and ran her fingers through her husband’s hair.

“Oh, all right, Em. But just five minutes?” He bent down and kissed her cheek, at the same time looking at his watch. “That news show I like is on now and I’ll just watch it for a couple of minutes.” Em had already disappeared into their bedroom. He followed her and looked at the room with new eyes. There was no sign of Michael - Emelina’s late husband and Jeremy’s best friend. Silently Jeremy said “Mike, I’ll take care of her.” A tiny bit of guilt passed through his grateful heart. Not just that he’d married his best friend’s wife, but he was letting go of Elaine, his wife deceased as long as Michael Beaufort. He had clung so fiercely to her memory…..”What are you staring at Jeremy?” Emelina emerged from her closet to see her husband standing just inside the bedroom door lost in thought.

“Just saying good-bye and thanks for the memories to our two ghost partners, wherever they may be.” He smiled and tossed his backpack on the bed. “What now, Em?”

“Well, come see the closet. You have space in there now, and I’ve cleared space in the dresser. Put your toiletries away beside mine in the bathroom.” Emelina stopped suddenly and tilted her head towards the bedroom door. “Did you hear someone come in downstairs or am I just hearing things?” Her husband stepped out of the bathroom. “You’re right. Someone has come in.”…….

“Yoo hoo. Miss Emelina?  Dr. Jeremy? Are you up there? I saw your car out back.” Relieved to hear Cook's voice, Emelina was already at the head of the stairs to the kitchen. 

 
“We’ll be right down….Jeremy come and let’s see if Cook can tell us what’s been going on over at Digby’s cottage.”

~~~~~

Cook did not seem as welcoming as usual, smiling but rather aloof despite her words of greeting. She felt awkward and didn’t quite know how to keep Martha's secret. “Oh my goodness you two. Don’t you look happy - tired and happy. Miss Dez told us all about what you had planned. Congratulations. It’s so good to see the both of you. I must say that I did get suspicious when you asked me to fill your lunch basket.”

Emelina sensed Cook's unusual awkwardness. “Thank you, but did you just come from Digby’s? We saw Gile’s vehicle, Matt Hamilton’s truck and Samuel’s truck when we drove up, but everyone turned and left before even going in the house. Is everything all right over there?”

Cook busied herself cleaning the already clean counter tops, being careful not to make eye contact. She did not want to let on that the party was supposed to have been for the Crawfords. “We weren’t sure you’d be back today and would have told you to come right over. Martha and James wanted a little party...” she hesitated ....“and Martha was all ready. She hadn’t been feeling well all day, but kept pushing herself. By the time folks were arriving, she was too sick to stand. I took some food over there for the party and left it for James. He was the one to go out and give everyone their apologies.” She felt like she was babbling, grateful when her employer spoke up.

“Well, is she all right? Does Jeremy need to go over and see what he can do?” Emelina was concerned for Martha.

Cook shook her head. “Oh, no. Dr. Simmons came out to the house to see her. He did a Covid test for all three of us - Martha, James and me.” (Deep breath, Elizabeth. I think I'm safe.) “That’s why I’m keeping my distance from you - I need to isolate until I hear from the Doctor about my test. James and Martha will have to stay in as well. Well, here I am prattling on. I’m sure that you’ll want to get settled. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. You two have a good night and I’m so glad you’re home.” Cook left quickly before she could say anything more.

Jeremy spoke up. “That was odd. The Cook that I know is the first one to sit down, want to hear all about trips and see pictures. I suppose she’s worried about Martha and James, and herself. Come on Em, let’s raid the refrigerator and get to the TV.” He saw the stern look on Emelina’s face. “I know, I know - only five minutes….ten….. is fifteen pushing it?”

“Secrets have a way of making themselves felt, 

even before you know there’s a secret.”

~ Jean Ferris, Once Upon a Marigold

John and Enid

 “John, if we don’t get started, we’ll never get across the lake until after dark. All the best nesting sites will be gone. And you’re telegraphing the rest of the flock to tell them what. That we’re taking our time so we can get the last………”

“Enid, I’m not just ‘telegraphing the rest of the flock’ and we’ll get there just fine. Have you forgotten - we can see in the dark and we’ve nested in the same spot for fifteen years.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry John, it’s just that I’m tired. We’ve been flying all day and I just want to settle for the night.”

~~~~~

We don’t know when exactly John and Enid got across the lake. But, as the sun set and the moon rose, all the flock settled. Only an occasional sharp honk punctured the night.

“Instinct is something which transcends knowledge.”

~ Nikola Tesla, My Inventions

There's Something

There’s something about cooking

that settles me.

Using recipes with only

my cupboards contents.

Adding spice to blandness

to suit my taste.

Bubbling broth, cheese sauce, baking squash ~

aromas in my home.

Chopping, peeling, tasting, sampling ~

playing with food.

There’s something about cooking

that shows me abundance.

“Some people saw cooking as a chore, but not Lila. 

For her it was a way to express her love. 

It made her feel motherly and full of life.”

~ Bette Lee Crosby,  The Summer of New Beginnings

Three Lines

Three lines of poetry floated 

through my head

just behind my eyes

words danced and flitted

just out of reach

tickling my memory

silent sounds teased,

threatened to slip away,

trailed me down the stairs

I raced to get my pen,

scribbled the words down, 

sketched them in black and white

before they could pop and vanish
like an iridescent bubble

to leave wordy splashes in my mind.

“If you have the words, there’s always a chance that you’ll find the way.”

~Seamus Heaney, Stepping stones: Interviews with Seamus Heaney