Simply Sunday

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Questions 

More and more questions
Many answered before
the realization that 
They even lived

What should I wear today?
What do I want for lunch? 
What time should we leave?

Questions that serve 
to move my feet 
through the physical

And then there are 
those questions that 
cause me to pause

Why do I smile when the trees speak to each other?
Why does the smell of sawdust remind me of Dad?
How is it a terrible storm leaves behind such peace?

Questions that simultaneously
freeze and thaw my heart
As I consider the answers

Answers that will undoubtedly 
change with age and experience
As long as I continue to ask

One of Many

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A person can only fall
through so many cracks
And she has fallen through
many in her short life

Her sassy, sweet disposition
somehow remains
I’m not sure mine
would have survived

A history of being abused,
neglected, treated as less than
Years of reports leading nowhere
until circumstances could
no longer be avoided

Layers and layers of trauma
paired with intellectual disabilities

Finally, in a loving home with
People who are willing to love her
through the challenges

Always a battle for services-
physical and mental health,
unable to advocate for herself-
Reliance with no awareness

But that’s ok- she is who she is
A person- deserving
of love, respect, life
Her story is one of many

Do you know her?
Do you know him?
Will you keep your heart open
In case they pass your way?

One day, I hope to share more of her story. A frustrating phone call today brought a flood of emotions. She is okay. The system is not.

Simply Sunday

On By Piano girl4 Comments
Thanks again to my friend, Paul Porter, for the amazing pic! https://www.facebook.com/paul.porter.3133719

Advice From a Common Box Turtle

Speed is not a reliable indicator
of a journey’s success
My wanderings take time
Or rather, allow time

Time to stop and
stretch my neck
Feel the sun on my face
Be still, and recharge

Rest my home, that
I may traverse this field
of green, at exactly
the speed required

To meet a new friend-
One who looks like me
Unique, colorful patterns
on their legs and shell

Or one quite different-
Tall and admiring, who
offers me sweet strawberries
As I continue on my journey

Reunion

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Their hair, now white
But their faces hold
familiarity, reassurance

Logic causes confusion
And my brain and heart
disagree over time’s passing

As they stand nearby
Smiling and talking
I feel a flicker of childhood

My reflection disagrees
But for a brief moment
I am once again carefree

What do they see when they look at me?

We listen more intently
Our hugs linger a bit longer
And I understand it took a village

Another goodbye followed by
A renewed sense of gratitude
for this familiar reassurance

Hushed

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The progression is slow
A snail trailing from one
side of the sidewalk
to the other

A caterpillar inching
from stem to leaf
Ready to face its
final transformation

A curious smile
growing with the
increasing warmth
of the sunshine

The whole sky
shining clear
and blue
and wide

The unease from
yesterday and the
day before and the
day before that…hushed

Simply Sunday

On By Piano girl3 Comments

New and fresh
Young and bright
The greenness of Spring

Tried and true
Comfortable and faded
Her countenance in the mirror

Yet, with each new leaf
Each new flower petal
Youthfulness resurfaces

Along with it, a smile,
New and fresh, after all

Listening to Johnny Cash

On By Piano girl3 Comments

Layering itself within the everyday,
grief flows between memory and
emotion through eyes, ears, heart-
Leaving me with new reasons to miss you.

Johnny Cash spinning on your
granddaughter’s turntable.
We listened to Johnny Cash
on a long drive in my car.

Your grandson wearing
one of your straw hats.
I found a picture of you
wearing said hat, smiling.

My sweet granddaughter
and her blue sky eyes.
You would have been
so excited to meet her.

Your voice in my head, fading.
How’s my little girl?

Grief flows between memory and emotion through eyes, ears, heart-
Leaving me grateful, yet
wishing you were still here.

Mom and I had a recent conversation about how we sometimes struggle to talk about the ones we miss. I get it. There’s a fear of causing tears, sadness, and increasing grief. But I’m finding that talking about my dad, remembering good times, brings peace. Yes, it may also bring tears, but tears have the power to restore. ❤️