AN UPDATE on the shade garden, a reminder that even in places where people say nothing will grow, things can happen. Never give up.
2010
2013
Flourishing in Places Where Nothing Will Grow
Category Archives: roadblocks
We’re Talking About it, Just Not One Day a Week
“How about we choose one a week that we don’t talk about it?”
AFTER WE GIVE HUGS and send them off, the little family…
After the Tangoes are put away
and the Ken doll’s sandal is found laying on a table
and the Matryoshka dolls
are tucked back into each other, safe…
After I take care of the sticky
from the orange juice spill,
and smile,
thinking of the moment the cup tipped
and how much this old table has seen…
I am glad for the friend,
slowed by the storm
on his way from Michigan to North Carolina.
I am glad he accepted our invitation to stay the night,
glad to see his children again -
how much they’ve grown!
I am happy they remembered my house
and where the favorite toys were kept.
I am grateful for our chance to catch up,
to hear his story.
And I’m glad, I think,
we didn’t get into ours.
But mostly I’m glad
they didn’t see me cry.
* * *
SOMETHING’S got to give.
“How about for the new year
we choose one day a week
to not talk about it?” I suggest later.
Because we’ve been talking about it every day for months -
first thought in the morning,
last at night.
table conversation,
car conversation.
We consider it a good day
if no new shoes have dropped.
Heads on pillows,
we sigh long,
wonder,
every 24 hours, like clockwork,
how we will ever fall asleep.
We always do, though.
Can we do it?
Can we pick one day a week and not talk about it?
Is it possible?
Is it healthy?
We refine the plan:
“If something comes up
we need to discuss, we will,
then choose a different day that week.”
Agreed.
And it feels like progress
’cause somewhere along the line
you have to take back control of your life
and maybe this is a start.
If we’re ever again
going to have a life
not dominated by this crisis,
better start now.
An act of faith that it’s possible. Practicing for it.
Unsure I Can Make it Through Another Storm
I’VE BEEN LIVING in the midst of a storm
that hit
without warning -
no time to batten hatches,
no time to acquire Band-Aids large enough
to stop the bleeding.
By the time it hit
it was too late for that.
* * *
COSTS ADD UP.
Already I’ve spent:
sufficient time
beating myself up
for not having seen it coming,
sufficient imagination
on what I might have done,
had I an inkling,
sufficient panic
over who might know,
sufficient tears
washed down the shower drain
sufficient anger
sufficient self-pity
(Is this not the ugliest thing?)
I have also,
as is my tendency,
withdrawn.
* * *
ON THE PLUS SIDE,
I’ve filled a journal.
I’ve gone away to a far place to breathe
and to fall into a river -
not once, but twice! -
and to laugh
at the metaphor of baptism -
total immersion,
surrender,
yielding.
Okay,
I get it, but do I have to leave here
and go back home?
Yes, that’s always the sticking point, isn’t it?
Whatever the epiphany,
you come up out of the waters
and must go home
and step back into life -
the same life,
but a different you,
you hope.
Legs wobbly,
steps unsure.
I see a one-year-old
get up from a crawl,
stand on two legs
and move forward
like she’s done it many times before.
She hasn’t.
But I have.
Do I have it in me for one more time?
Sometimes, in the midst of a storm
the best we can do
is hold on.
Hold on,
and after that,
have the courage
to go out,
assess the damage
and begin again,
picking up sticks.
I have no confidence in my own ability.
Maybe that’s a good place to start.
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