Through You

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Recently, I’ve been doing a lot of postings of encouragement to other writers on Instagram. I think one of the reasons is because part of me is really nervous about receiving my editor’s notes on my latest manuscript. I go from “Why isn’t she finished? Where is her email?!” to “Oh, good, I don’t have her comments yet and I don’t have to begin the tedious process of editing.”

I know that once I begin the process, I will be in another place in time. I will forget where I put things (more often), forget the wet towels in the dryer, not return phone calls, postpone going full-mask to the grocery store, etc.

But I will press on, do what needs to be done, then beg forgiveness to those I have ignored.

Protect the Children

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Oh little child, your hunger grows

for things outside your world of woes

gangs and morsels you feed upon

to gather strength and carry on.

Sirens bellow, flashing lights

weaken so the appetite

windows now your only shield

from who you are and what you feel.

Watching how the colored clothes

come together in violent pose

feeling it’s your only chance

you turn away and start to dance.

Pelvis thrusting, rapid feet

arms are flailing to the beat

letting go of all you fear

you dance until you disappear.

I wrote this many years ago when I taught in a low income early childhood center. My eyes opened. My heart squeezed.

Can We Blame Everything on CoVid?

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My daughter and her family have been hunkered down with her dad and I for the last two months. Today is her birthday. The above box is her “wrapped” gift.

In the 1920’s, before gift wrap was readily available, they used brown paper – but decorated it with flowers, lace, etc.

I found a magic marker – orange. The red seems to be missing.

Missing like my gift bags and wrapping paper, hence the brown paper.

I can’t blame CoVid 19 on the masses rushing to buy out wrapping paper and hoarding it like toilet paper.

But I can blame CoVid for this: my husband’s new mission to “declutter” and organize every room in the house. This includes, but is not limited to, the pantry, his side of the closet, every cabinet and drawer in the house, and the laundry room.

That’s where I kept my wrapping paper.

No, we can’t blame everything on CoVid. But we can blame it on restlessness, the need to do something different, and missing wrapping paper.

It started with a run (not my usual post)

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Out of the house, big ol’ open world (neighborhood), fresh air and a nice day for a run (jog/walk).

Endorphins kick up random thoughts. (You know how it goes)

In The Beginning...

Creator thought up a food chain. Big fish eat little fish. Big animals eat little animals. Animals (unfortunately) get hit by cars. Creator pre-anticipated this and thought, “Ish, what a mess that would be.” Then,

Turkey vultures swoop in; do the yummy cleanup.

I run a little faster. The air is fresh again.

Up ahead, workers are landscaping a yard with fresh shrubs and flowers. Nice.

But …

I keep running. Try not to breathe.

Yessiree, Bob. Creator’s got a sense of humor.

Big fish eat little fish. All animals eat one thing or another. Lots of animals. I love them all.

Just after The Beginning, Creator said, “Crap. What do I do with it?”

A seven-ish day ponder and then — “Ah-ha! They will use it to grow beauty!”

Only a creator with a sense of humor would think of this witty use of available resources.

Inspired by Creator’s wink and encouragement to get that blood flowing, I run a little faster, past the freshly spread manure fertilizer.

That Creator – what a character.

Those who say, “Beauty doesn’t come from crap” are wrong. They just have to run a little faster, get past the stench, and return on the seven-ish day.

Clever indeed.