Posted in community, Gratitude Journal, neighbor, Sabbath, things that catch my eye on January 6, 2013 | Leave a Comment »
AT THE BOTTOM of the bulletin,
where it lists names -
pastors, secretary, heads of various boards, etc -
the words,
at the very, very bottom,
the last words:
“Ministers: the entire congregation“
Now that seems right.
* * *
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Posted in home, knitting, letting go, long view, peace, relationship, transitions on December 15, 2012 | 5 Comments »
A good mother-in-law is worth holding onto, but you can only hold on for so long.
AFTER I HEAR the news
that she is failing -
vital signs all higher or lower
than what they ought to be
I finish the dishes,
get out a skein of yarn,
my size 8 knitting needles
and instructions for an ear warmer
I’ve been wanting to make,
and begin a trip down memory lane
that extends back 40 years,
back to when we first met,
back before I had children,
back before I was married or even engaged,
back to when my hair was auburn.
I go back
to the times
we sat together
and talked over knitting needles -
her fingers flying, always working on something interesting,
and me, slow as molasses and left-handed to boot,
trying to figure things out.
Cable stitches, for example.
I learned the basics of knitting in the Brownies,
but she is the first person I know
who makes useful things,
which is what I want to be in the world.
* * *
I WISH I’D TAKEN a PICTURE of her Thanksgiving weekend,
how she looked,
just back from the hairdresser’s,
wearing a shirt so crisp
it looked fresh out of the package.
“Just some old thing I’ve had for years,” she said.
I need to stop thinking
how I didn’t get that shot when I had the chance,
not wanting to take her picture too much,
like I was always expecting it to be the last.
* * *
IN the SPRING of ’74
I walk into her screenroom
and find her taking down
her Christmas tree
turned Valentine’s tree
turned St. Patrick’s Day tree
turned Easter tree.
The tree has been up for 4 months.
I don’t know anyone who’s done this before,
but I think it’s so cool.
“Sal?” I say….because we didn’t yet call her Gram.
“Yeah?”
And when I don’t answer right away,
she looks up at me.
“I’m . . . going to have a baby!” I say,
and she throws her arms around me.
* * *
WE LEFT HOME at 5 this morning
and arrived at her house at noon.
She puts me to shame,
her house completely decked out
for Christmas
and mine,
well….I haven’t quite gotten around to it.
I admire her collection,
a life’s worth,
and take a picture of the musical angel
she says Wally gave her
when he was 8 years old.
Still plays!
* * *
AFTER THE HOSPICE CHAPLAIN comes and goes,
and the visiting nurse,
after we chat a good while
and eat the early supper
brought in a cooler from Ohio and reheated,
after she has her meds
and the men get busy
working on something in another part of the house,
we sit together in the living room -
her, working a word search puzzle,
me, working on the ear warmer I’ve started.
The rhythmic hum
of the oxygen machine,
like a metronome,
sets a beat
my knitting needles can’t keep up with,
but there’s no hurry.
Time has been suspended.
All the shared years
are somehow present at once in the room.
She dozes off,
I slip a stitch,
purl to the end,
begin the next row,
and it all seems right and peaceful,
going home.
Posted in @ play, community, food, fun, intentional relating, neighbor on December 13, 2012 | 7 Comments »
THE LAWTON ROAD LADIES invite me back again this year to their Cookie Exchange
and despite
it being cold and dark outside
and my hair being askew
and me having a knitting project I’m eager to start
and concerns to dwell on
and feeling tired (the perennial fallback excuse)
I go!
And I am better for it,
which you knew before I even told you, didn’t you?
* * *
I CATCH UP with people.
One has taken up piano,
had her first lesson today.
“Can you believe it, at my age?” she says.
But I tell her
how old I was
when I took up Spanish.
And June tells her how old she was
when she took up oil painting.
And aren’t we like the 3 Musketeers,
sitting there,
all empowered?
* * *
I meet the woman from Italy
who lives in the house
surrounded by
a long, long hedge of burning bushes,
trimmed to perfection,
the one I pass by on my bike.
I meet the woman
who lives in the house
a black cat
is always crossing the street to get to.
I talk with the woman
who brought the Krumkake
and she tells me all about the process.
* * *
And those SPECIAL CLASSES
at the college
I’ve been thinking about,
but every semester I let them pass by?
Turns out
the black cat lady
and the piano lady
know all about the program,
speak highly of it.
* * *
I WEAR a pink scarf
that gets so many compliments
I will never take it off now
until it falls to tatters.
This is how I am.
* * *
I COME HOME
with an assortment of cookies
and new thoughts.
I don’t have time to dwell on my own stuff the whole evening,
yet the world manages to keep spinning. Make a note.
My hair is still askew,
but I have enough steam left
to look up the course offerings
at the college
for the winter term.
And to write this post.
Once again, it is good to get out and be around people.
Oh, I said that already this week. 
My Toasted Coconut Shortbreads
A closer look at Ingrid’s Krumkake
The table of cookies.
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