Last Night…

August 4, 2015

Was a dreamless night. I awoke even before my alarm sounded and dared not look at the time. If I look, I cannot go back to sleep. Staring into the cool darkness I turned over, adjusted my pillow, and pulled the covers around my throat. Sometime afterwards the chime brought me into morning.

This is a calm day for me. I let go of  more material things early this A.M. with the scheduled curbside pickup. I can still see the items waiting dutifully for their transportation to their new home, I feel no guilt. Some of the items are brand new, still in their original containers. Others, old as the hills, but with a good cleaning and if desired, some paint, can earn their keep. The main point is to let them do what they were created to do. Be useful.

I remind myself that things are just exactly that. They have no love, no hate, no anything. You can pick something up that brings you a thousand memories and it feels nothing. It sits silently in your hands with no where to go, except where you direct.

  I have no dirt from my childhood, yet I close my eyes and still smell its rich dark aroma. The tree that produced huge sweet pears so full of juice that it dripped down your chin is gone, but my mind conjures it up, complete with the large buzzing bumblebees, yellow jackets, and honey bees that feasted off the bounty for years. The year after we moved the tree died. I always said that it missed us. I still believe that. We grew up playing under it, our dog having his house nearby. After the dog died and we left, I think it realized it had done its work. It provided us with sweet smells, delicious pears, shade, and a sturdiness for years. We, in turn, had given it sounds of laughter and  joy, receiving the fruit with squeals of delight, playing many years around it throughout our young days. The time came to move on…and the tree had loved us in the way it could and we had loved it back.

Thoughts are in my mind…and I can carry them wherever I go, with no fear of them not having a place. For they are in my heart and I think of them often.



June 5, 2012

it’s like I’m looking through a large picture window. I watch silently as others parade by through venues of family, work, worship, weddings, funerals, anniversaries, holidays, etc. repeating themselves year after year through the course of this life. I sit and watch  on some days. Other times I stand at a distance and look at those who are involved in the situation. On occasion, with nose pressed so close I can feel the warmth of my own breath, I stare into the scene, trying to see how all this is taking place and longing to be there to help me understand and have  connection.

The conclusion comes to me as I turn and walk away. It is a window for gazing; not to call out to, nor join myself within its framework. In the hall  I  stare at  my reflection in a mirror. In bed, my eyes close waiting for the night to give my mind rest. I have no part of  what is another’s. I have only what is mine.