Missing You

Do you remember the time I fell and hurt my back?

I’d just had knee replacement surgery.

Been home only a few days.

My bird cage needed cleaning, something

I should have done prior to going to the hospital.

My husband offered to help.

He changed the toys.

The seed and the water.

He pulled out the bottom tray

Dumped the detritus.

I came over to help,

Leaning on the walker my doctor had ordered.

When I reached out to change the paper in the bottom,

I lost my balance

Found myself leaning backwards

Backwards

Backwards

I tried to grab Mike’s shirt but missed.

The floor came up to hit me, spanking me

Harder than my dad had ever done with his belt.

I landed, so hard that pain radiated up my spine.

I recall collapsing onto the floor, crying out in pan,

Immobilized.

I don’t know how long I lay there.

I tried to sit up, but the pain was too much.

My husband went across the street and returned

With two strong young men

Who picked me up and gently placed me in a recliner.

You called then.

You heard my pain, my tears despite

My saying nothing.

You insisted I go to the hospital

When my husband had said the pain would go away.

Did I ever thank you?

X-rays showed a fractured vertebra.

Not so big that I needed medical intervention,

But enough that I felt reassured

That I had not imagined the injury.

That happened before you moved to Arizona.

I miss you so much.

That wasn’t the first nor the last time

You’d offered support.

The Cubs Creation

The cub dug and dug, determined to find whatever lay beneath the mound of dirt.

His eyes glittered, his tongue lolled about as his head swung left and right, right and left.

When the hole was six inches deep, he paused to look inside. He squinted his eyes and sniffed.

It wasn’t edible, it had no smell, but there was something. Something shiny, something round, something interesting to a small bear.

            “Look, Mama,” he said. “Look at what I found.”

            Mama bear trundled over, bent her massive head to one side. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.” She sat on her haunches. “Keep digging.

            The cub scooped out pawful after pawful, creating an ever-growing mound of dirt behind him.

            Soon his entire front end was inside the hole, but he kept digging.

            The dirt mound grew into a small hill. Then a bigger hill. Then a small mountain. And still he dug.

            “I can’t get it out,” he said with his head deep inside the hole.

            “Keep digging,” Mama bear said and she clean her claws.

            The small mountain grew taller and taller, without growing in width, almost like a dirt and rock tree. Rubble piled up around the outside of the mountain, a jumble of leaves and dirt and rock. And still he dug.

            The cub’s body was completely in the hole by now, but his mama wasn’t concerned. She had rolled over and fallen asleep.

            The small mountain grew into a tall mountain, and then an ever taller mountain.

            “I’m quitting,” the cub said. He sat in his hole and cried and cried until his mama woke up and rescued him.

            “Did you have fun?” she asked.

            The cub nodded. “Yeah even though I never freed that shiny thing.” He looked up at his mama. “Do you know what it was?”

            “Of course I do. Don’t I know everything?”

            The cub looked at the mountain he’d created. “I made that,” he said. “Me, a little cub, made that giant tower.”

            The two sat in the shade of the tower all afternoon. When the sun rose above them and the temperature soared, they lumbered away.

            From that day forward, Mama and Cub returned to the tower and relaxed in its shade.

            “What shall we call it?” Mama asked.

            “Bears Tower,” the cub said.

            And from that day forward until Man changed the name, every creature knew it as Bears Tower.

I Try, Again

Dieting is no easy job.

It eats at my resistance like

Easter candy, long gone stale,

Tucked away in last year’s basket.

I yearn for a choice piece of chocolate,

Nougat or caramel crème or a

Generous slice of dark chocolate torte.

Those things aren’t in my fare for

Housed within my body are too many

Ounces of fat cells, to the point of

Ugliness, obesity, just plain fat.

Gaining cannot happen, but if I

Have the willpower to succeed,

Success will come my way.

I hope.

The thing is, candy is alluring.

It calls my name, over and over

Until I have no choice but to sneak a bite

A piece, a chunk when no one is looking.

Guilt overwhelms my every thought.

Asking, why did I sabotage myself?

I’m a strong woman, I tell myself.

I’ve overcome emotional and physical abuse.

I’ve suffered chastisement from an employer.

I’ve raised three amazing adults

And been married for decades.

But yet I can’t walk away

When a simple piece of candy,

Or a perfectly baked cookie,

Or a slice of peach pie,

Or a spectacular bowl of ice cream

Appear, like magic.

I tell myself that

I Will. Try. Again.

Touched by Love

Luz brought out a huge bag of popcorn

Aida brought plates and forks

Susan pulled a bag of napkins out of her purse

Domingo played riffs on his keyboard

Sebastian cleared his throat

Fred stood

Natalie carried in a pan of lumpia

Valerie opened a box of doughnuts

Marilee came with a mixed salad

Fred called everyone to attention

Asked them to rehearse

The tune for the festival.

Meg arrived with a steaming bowl of pancit

Barb placed a covered apple pie on the table

Joyce arrived with a cake

Dave asked everyone to stand

Stu smiled, held his hands up

Fred began singing

Everyone joined in

Smiles on their faces

Voices not really blending

But the sound was perfect

Tessa blew out the candles

Her cheeks reddened

With joy, with love

Felt and shared

They were all blessed.

The Visitor

            The doorbell rang. And rang. And rang.

            Norah attempted to ignore the sound, sure that it was some type of door-to-door salesperson. She hated them. Well, felt sorry for them as they were just trying to earn enough money to pay rent. Or buy a car. Or get something to eat. She believed that most were being taken advantage of, were being used, or abused and no way would she support the company behind the racket.

            The ringing turned to knocking. Then pounding.

            With a huff, Norah tossed her knitting on the table next to her chair and strode to the door. Yanked it open, prepared to lecture the knocker.

            When she saw the smiling faces, Norah’s lit up in return. Her arms, of their own accord, spread wide open and her words called them to snuggle inside.

            “Happy birthday, Grandma!”