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Never trust quiet children

January 18, 2014 by Cynthia

My children have been abducted by aliens.  Two individuals who look just like them were at the appointed pick-up location today and got in my car.

Each child thanked me for making dinner and brought his dishes to the counter.  I escaped the kitchen and came to my office over an hour ago.

The creatures impersonating my children are in the study. Not a word has been spoken.  The one who looks like my oldest is working to partition the hard drive on his Android tablet.  The younger one, who looks like my second-born,  asked if he could partition his tablet, too.  I told him let’s let your brother do it first and then let him show you how.  The one who looks like my second-born took this well, said, “thank you” and left my office.

Deeply disturbing.  Something or someone has taken my children.

I am okay with it.

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Footprints

January 17, 2014 by Cynthia

Returning from Walkabout in untrammeled snow.  Turning, I saw my footprints.  Medium size, not uncommon.

Sand, snow or earth, footprints do not last long.  A mark, a measure of where we have been, a pace held and gone.

Some like to leave their mark, or wish they made a bigger mark.  Footprints wear away.  It is the thing that cannot be seen, memories of the walk, that persist.

Footprints do not last, I do not mind.

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The Company of Nothing

January 13, 2014 by Cynthia

Winter twilight, moonrise in the eastern sky.  High above coniferous trees, Luna promises spring.  You have seen it before.

So distant in space, so close at heart.

The promise of everything in the company of nothing.

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The lamp

January 11, 2014 by Cynthia

There is a lamp on my bedstand today.  Not new, but a gift from the Neighbor in transition.

Yesterday  the Neighbor closed on the sale of her house.  A 30 minute excursion through a stack of paper that transferred ownership of her property to someone else.  Signed and delivered, the street address is hers no longer.

The Neighbor has sizable equity in that house.  Married when she moved in, married to a different man as she moves out, having wed the Handyman on a lovely autumnal day this past October.

In between  came two beautiful children and an ugly divorce.  For almost 15 years I watched the Neighbor pour strength and love into her house.  In return, the house became a Home, beloved by family and admired by friends.

They say location is everything.  The emotional landscape she created on that geographic space became their universe, as it does with any true Home.  Four walls and a roof holds the cosmos in its entirety where the right conditions exist.

The spirit of the place follows the Neighbor.  It also remains behind, part of a complex energetic background gift to the family moving in.

Consolidated households sometimes have leftovers.  The Neighbor gave me the lamp from her bedroom, a light from the center of the place.  Just as there is a difference between a house and a Home, there is difference between light and illumination.  I received both.  Thank you Neighbor.

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All things pass…

January 7, 2014 by Cynthia

This morning McFeeney the Elder passed on.  As almost any cat owner will tell you, the description domestic shorthair does not do the job.

The most intelligent feline I ever met, McFeeney also had opposable thumbs.  Had he not been neutered, McFeeney might well have fathered the line of cats able to open doors and text take-out orders.

Late coming to our household, McFeeney spent his formative years living in a garage, fed by a kind-hearted family and spending days and nights carousing the Big World.  Given my fondness for songbirds and long-lived cats, McFeeney dwelled indoor after I brought him home.  Forever after, his preferred spots were windows and windowsills, always looking outward.  The holiday season was a special favorite as he considered each Christmas tree a long-lost bush.

As good friends, pets accompany their people through hard times and good.  McFeeney was no different.  For my oldest child, losing McFeeney he said, was losing the only thing that had remained unchanged from the years prior to the divorce  and through his struggles in the years that followed.  My youngest recalled a fine quote, don’t cry because it is over, smile because it happened.

And that is so.  Under the sun and moon, all living things someday pass. We are lucky to partake while we are here. Laid to rest in our yard, McFeeney is again part of the Big World.  Fare thee well.

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What I wish…

January 1, 2014 by Cynthia

I wish for you a sunny day, on a hill with friends somewhere in May
I wish for you a forest strong with snow and light and forgotten song

I wish for you a cafe scene with noise and thought and talk
I wish for you a common place for you and love to take a walk

For ocean, mountain and desert red and a comfortable place to lay your head
But most for health and to get by, and for the moon to shine within your eye

These are days that run by fast, a whisper here and then they’ve passed
So onward ever, with time as friend, an open heart with no dark end.

Be well, be strong as change draws near —
Happy New Year my friend, Happy New Year.

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To the ages

December 26, 2013 by Cynthia

Anonymous souls are out tonight, on the road, in stores, in their homes.  Gather tradition close, loved ones closer, the depth in this night draws near.

If presents be had, they are opened, old wounds fare the same.  For those who observe Christmas, or did at one time, this is a night when years pass by in the air.  They lightly brush the face just enough to be noticed before moving slowly on.

Where I am, there is snow, quiet, icy in places, fresh in others.  Life is like that.

Eternity is an effective leveler, anonymous souls are out tonight.

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Blizzard

December 10, 2013 by Cynthia

A distance drive on a stormy day.  Horizontal snow blows across the road from the right, changing direction midstream.  Roadway breathes with snaking, vaporous snow, flowing before my car like a tide.  Mesmerizing.

Wind hits from the left, the entire works blows into opaque cloud as an oncoming semi passes within feet.  Zero visibility.

Flat light, socked in storm, taillights obscured by snow.  Drift after drift, snow headed to earth. No where to go but forward–or off the road.

On a sunny day, driving this road is thoughtless.  Wild but still beautiful, this side of Nature commands full attention.

Home again, garage door closing slowly shuts out the storm.  Glad to be inside looking out.

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Of things

December 5, 2013 by Cynthia

On walkabout.  Misty day, saturated colours, melted snow.

Rounding down a street, two pieces of a sectional couch wait patiently by the curb.  Trash day, on their way out.

Next door, a big screen television of relatively recent vintage eyes its prospects as it too accompanies a trash can.

A few more paces and an elderly woman friend stops her car to talk to me.  Just back from an ultrasound, some problems, hoping it is nothing.

On the seat by her purse is a tidy bag of plastic Christmas cookie cutters.  Small talk finds its way there.  She does not make cookies anymore and neither apparently does her daughter.  Do I want them? Fond of such things, I readily accept and thank her.

Hopefully we will know about the ultrasound soon.

Of things that wait patiently.  Once new, the future of these things is now not so clear.  The cookie cutters will soon mingle with their kind, holding much more than the shapes they represent.

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Christmas trees

November 21, 2013 by Cynthia

From a distance they are startling.  Brilliant ornaments bob on the breeze from twisted charcoal colored branches. Two trees, one dressed in red, the other in gold.  Smooth round color against leafless gnarled stems creates a visually festive feast.

On closer look, the ground is strewn with ornaments. Apple trees.

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