Rock Bottom

 

It’s not easy being a bystander

watching the moorings slip

as the vessel bobs uncertainly in the water.

Is it going under?

It’s not easy remaining silent

when the volume of insanity becomes deafening.

Drowning out all sense and decency

and the tiny fragments of altruism

still caught in the clenched fists

of those who have yet to abandon hope.

Are we going under?

It’s not easy turning  my back

to the little lives I’ve loved and protected 

as the inconceivable happens.

As indignant parents-

MOTHERS

start clambering for the right

to make their own children

less safe.

They’re going under.

I want to live in a world where....

 I WANT TO LIVE IN A WORLD WHERE: 

Children can trust adults to do the right thing. 

Forgiveness is the rule instead of the exception. 

There are more fish than microplastics in the ocean.

Helping others takes precedence over helping ourselves.

Waitresses arrive with pots of English tea and those ordering coffee have to wait for a tiny bag of coffee to dunk in a lukewarm cup of water. 😜

Skin color has nothing to do with the way people act toward one another.

Karma is a regularly occurring event.

Everyone gets to travel. A lot.

Cancer is a historical footnote. 

Bartlett pears and heirloom tomatoes are delicious year-round. 

Truth is not up for debate. 

We remember the ten kind things people have told us instead of the one unkind thing they’ve ever said. 

People who give love also get to receive love. 

Lobsters never wear rubber-bands on their claws.

Difficulties regularly bring people together instead of driving them apart.

Matches light on the first strike.

Our love is stronger than our fears.

Insomnia lasts only long enough for the counting of ten sheep. 

Mosquitoes choose to get drunk on the morning dew over piercing us for our blood.

Diversity is welcomed.

Good books always have one more chapter. Or at least a sequel.

A toasted sesame bagel with a thick layer of cream cheese has the same effect on the human body as 30 minutes of intense cardio.

The people we love are never too far away or too socially distant for a hug. 😢

Everyone notices important things like the tiny forest in a patch of moss, whiskers on muskrats, and the smell of rain. 

There are no political parties. Just people working together for the common good.

Hot fudge is a given. 

We can take back words we wish we’d never spoken. 

Ancient trees, loyal dogs and the morning sunrise get the respect they all deserve.

People live out their God-given purposes as intentionally as their plans for financial security. 

No one goes to bed hungry. 

Pandemics are something we read about, not something we have to learn to endure.

IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?

BY THE SEA

It’s hard to take a bad photo at the beach because everywhere you look, there is beauty.  The soothing rhythm of the waves returns to memory even years later when you hold this kind of photographic moment in your hands.  That is precisely how I feel about this photo. One dazzling spring morning I was walking along the edge of the ocean in Duck, North Carolina.  Everyone is different at the beach. Some people enjoy the baking sun and never leave the comfort of their squat but brightly colored chairs.  Others enjoy bobbing in the salt water like overfed seals until their skin is comparable.  I prefer strolling along the beach at the exact juncture where sneaky waves tickle my feet and there is just enough moisture for my heels to sink almost imperceptibly into the damp sand. The day of this photo, I had ventured too far, again.  This happens almost every time I take off in a new direction by the shore.  I am extremely persuasive when I convince myself that the waves have delivered a perfect shell or tiny piece of sea glass…and it’s likely just ahead.  It compels me forward. I don’t want to miss anything.  As my pockets became heavier and soggier with treasures from the deep, I came upon this rusty old pier.  Its menacing magnificence extends from a field research facility, owned by the US Army Corps of Engineers.  I stood beneath it for a long time.  There was something calming about the repetitive pattern of the pylons so deeply embedded in the sand. If I take a deep breath I can still hear the sound of the crashing sea.

SUNSET AT BREAKNECK SPEED

I love a good sunrise but nightfall is my favorite time to snap photos.  I am by no means a professional (at least not in the field of photography). But I know what I like and the light on the earth as the sun starts slipping in the direction of the horizon is something worth capturing.  I was already a little melancholy when I spied the ice crystals shimmering in the roadside weeds.  The light was perfect.  My husband was oblivious to the changing hues as he was busy testing the speed limit on the highway. Now you’ve learnedthree things about me.  I love dusk, I’m a novice photographer, and I’m more than a tad risk averse…. We were traveling east after a long weekend with my best friend who had the audacity to move 650 miles away from me some years earlier. We’d been driving for a ridiculously long time and we were both a little cranky. Salt and other chemicals with lengthy names (and effects detrimental to the environment) had long cleared the highway for traffic, so logically I had little reason to be concerned.  But neurotic, I nonetheless remained. Fretful and hungry. To distract myself from worry and the tapping Morse code of my stomach, I punched the automatic window release, poked my cell phone out of the window of our speeding car, and pointed it in the general direction of the orange sky.  Jim’s response was predictable in a comforting way. “Hey! Don’t drop your phone!”  I admit to donning an unbecoming grin.  Now who’s being overly anxious?  

POND MAGIC

There is a magical pond.  It sits discreetly and contentedly atop a grassy knoll alongside a winding road on the outskirts of a blink of a village called Nauvoo. It has long been the place my family goeswhen we leave reality for a weeklong exhale.  A respite without distractions like televisions, deadlines, or dependable internet connection.  Each night after dinner, family members begin the migration to the dock. Waving cattails ornament the rim of the water, like a gilded frame on a priceless canvas painted with oils.The frogs are already practicing their low notes as the cricket chorus of thousands commences gathering to achieve a steady thrum.  Some of us pull out fishing lines.  Others read until the sun sinks so low the words become completely indecipherable.  At least one paddles the canoe, oars mutely breaking the surface of the pond…occasionally stirring up the impossibly green pondweed. I take my camera (more recently my phone camera) so I can try to preserve the feeling of serenity we all hold. Honestly, if I could just figure out how to bottle the feeling of a Tioga County sunset, I’d be a millionaire. Twilight shadows stretch their long arms across the hills and the glassy face of the water becomes a magical mirror where evening clouds check their faces with a vanity well-deserved. Hours later when the stragglers arrive and the cricket chorus gathers on their risers with full voice, the magic will return for Act Two.  And we’ll be lying like a row of cigars on old quilts with the dock below. Our eyes and our fingers, tracing the path of satellites and shooting stars.  At least until tenacious mosquitoes drive us indoors.

TOO MANY LEGS

In my still darkened bedroom, I reached for my reading glasses and phone to check for overnight messages. My eyes weren’t quite adjusted to early morning, but just a minute or so into the text retrieval process, the image in my peripheral vision was unmistakable. A nimble-legged arachnid was executing an athletic descent directly over my head. I was definitely in motion even before my optic nerve had fully messaged the visual cortex of my brain. I mean...that stealthy fellow was not what you would call “small” and he was  only inches from contact. Imagine a 58 year old gal in summer PJs performing a lightning-speed ninja roll off the far side of the bed, accompanied by a decidedly non-ninja shriek. Despite turning on every light in the vicinity and yelling for backup, the intruder who had been trying to maneuver his tricky little body toward the glow of my phone was not to be found. No sign of his eight creepy legs. No telltale home web. Not even an offending silken thread. So now I’ve no choice but to move out or torch our bedroom. 😳🕷

Haikus for Pandemic Days

1 Some blame the poor bat. The virus hopes to survive. Who can we accuse? 2 Is this Saturday? No eggs over medium at our local haunt 3 Here we go again. Same walk through the neighborhood I know every step 4 Appointment cancelled  despite needing new glasses. Will he ever see? 5 I miss my schedule. The grueling alarm at five was my metronome. 6 Don’t come near to me. You are not wearing a mask. I assume the worst. 7 We need more testing. There could be antibodies. How are we to know? 8 I’m cooking again. I’ve never made this much food. And I’m not hungry. 9 ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND. Is immunity enough to dull the heartache? 10 Grocery list in hand, the produce is a mine field. We wear furrowed brows.  11 I venture outside  and open the box slowly  afraid of my mail 12 I can’t think too hard about the nurses I love losing hope and lives 13 I listen again to my county news briefing.  It comforts and wounds 14 Forty-one million no longer have a paycheck. Unfathomable  15 Looking for rainbows in the windows on my street. I prefer the sky. 16 An important truth. The church is not a building. Will we remember? 17 Your eyes are straining above that steamy blue mask.  Don’t bother to smile.  18 Learning more each day should be giving us some hope. But the news is bad. 19 "It’s just a virus!" I’ve said it a million times. This one feels different. 20 He still goes to work. My husband is essential. I knew that before. 21 She was seventeen. A bad time to lose our cat. The house is quiet.  22 Did I hear you cough? Don’t worry...just allergies. Pollen can deceive. 23 How many more deaths are we going to tally and call it freedom? 24 We love with our arms. What are the huggers to do? Introverts are thrilled.  25 When I am alone banging around in my house, I’m glad for the walls. 26 Neighbors are waving to people they’ve never met. Small consolation.  27 Retirement homes are not just for shuffleboard. I cannot go there. 28 I had hope that this might bring us all together. But he would not mask. 29 When this is over I will hold my grand baby  and fly to Austin 30 Taking a deep breath has become a luxury many can’t afford. 31 Four part harmony will be hard to do without. My alto can wait. 32 Father, forgive us for our loose definition  of loving others.  ReplyForward