I can say
I miss you
But it doesn’t
Seem like enough
Such a simple thing
I do miss you
I can’t pick
Up the phone
And hear your voice
Or buy you a present
To open for your birthday
More simple things
In the grand scheme
Grief is like that
Rising out of the
Simple things
And today, my heart
Is missing the
Simple things
The reasons
I love you
And miss you
Sometimes my brain
feels overcrowded.
Like, there’s not enough space
for all my thoughts to process.
Then one word emerges
from the muck.
Spaciousness.
My busy thoughts pause-
It does exist.
Spaciousness.
Between the time you were born
and the person you’ve become.
Between the first dark cloud
of a storm and the last drop of rain.
Between each breath I take,
as I slow down to watch
clouds gracefully float past.
Have you ever noticed
how certain clouds
appear so put together?
Smooth and round,
every particle in place.
Gleaming against their
bright, blue background.
Gliding gracefully
through the day.
And then there are the others.
Honestly, I think they
outnumber the first.
Frazzled, edges a little rough.
Looks like they survived
a tornado or hurricane.
Typically draws a second look.
Color is the same, as is
their current backdrop.
Particles are the same, only shifted.
Perhaps they need a
gentle breeze, accompanied
by a genuine smile.
That is, if clouds
respond to smiles.
Last week, I took a walk.
Everyone around me
was running.
In this instance, the results
would be the same.
I suppose that’s what
happens when you get
caught, unprepared,
in a rainstorm.
The thing is, I knew
the rain was approaching.
I knew there was no umbrella
hiding in my backseat.
And still, I chose to
ignore the warning.
Not always a wise choice,
but this time it was warranted.
Last week, I took a walk.
Drenched from head
to toe, I laughed.
My soul felt lighter.
Then the rain stopped.
Gigi, look at the sky!
I always seem to be
looking at the sky.
Had my granddaughter noticed?
Either way, the reminder
brought a fresh curiosity.
What did her eyes see when
looking at the sky?
I knew she noticed airplanes.
I’d watched her eyes
respond to hearing one
even before it flew into view.
Then watched as she
waved, asking it to come back.
Listening, looking, responding-
Is it that effortless? I think so.
Gig, look at the sky!
A flood of wisdom in
the simplest reminder
from the tiniest voice.
Yesterday, we visited Johnstone’s Kiddie Park in Bartlesville, OK. We took our oldest son there when he was little, and now it was his daughter’s turn.
Some things had changed, mostly cosmetically. However, the idea of a fun and inexpensive family outing (tickets are 75 cents) remains.
Watching our granddaughter brought back sweet memories of her dad at that age. And now we have more to add to that precious file of good days.
Rushing out the door,
I noticed my sweet, silly cat
stretched out like a pile of
pulled-apart cotton balls.
Driving to work,
I saw a once fluffy cloud
rolled out across the blue sky.
Reminded me of my cat.
Perhaps I need to unroll, stretch.
Not just my body, but also
my head and my heart.
Remaining too long
curled in a fetal position,
Though somewhat comforting,
is counterproductive.
Touch my toes.
Reach my hands skyward.
Lie flat on my back, eyes closed.
Smile or cry, whichever is needed.
Smile and cry at the same time.
That’s my favorite.
Ask for forgiveness.
Say I’m sorry.
Say I love you.
Slow down and stretch.
Not a cloud in the sky.
Yet, a heavy haze
held the morning.
Unhelpful. Especially when
my brain also feels foggy.
If only I were still sleeping.
However, sleep is not
a likely solution.
There is rarely a
single solution anyway.
Some days are just like this.
My heart is grateful for
family and friends.
My head is unsure how
to process the melancholy.
Seems counterintuitive
to wish for a cloud.
But if a fluffy cloud means
A lifted haze
A bluer sky
A spark of imagination
Then I will keep searching.
Looking out every time
I pass a window.
I have never seen
a blue so pale, barely blue.
Blurring the lines
between sky and cloud.
Still blue, only subdued.
The mood emanating from
those muted hues
is quite opposite from
this morning’s bird songs.
Playful conversations
I could only observe,
no matter how closely
I listened. Smile-inducing,
even without understanding.
Perhaps there’s a lesson
in the comparison.
Pale blue-an accurate description
of my current mood.
Playful conversations-an indication
of future possibilities.
An intriguing coexistence.
We walk down the sidewalk.
Our shadows lead the way.
This time, we walk with our shoes on.
Not my preference,
But the cement is hot
from the midday sun.
It would surely burn
your little feet.
Strange, how your shadow
makes you look older-
Mine only makes me look taller.
Interesting companions, our shadows.
They seem to listen as you chatter.
Your sweet voice echoes against
the neighbor’s fence.
Do you see your shadow? I ask.
But you keep walking
and chattering and laughing.
Oh, to be innocent again,
paying no attention to those shadows.
Your only concern?
Walking, chattering, and laughing
in the bright summer sun.
Piano Girl 