Friday, April 27, 2012

Puzzle #1

There is this puzzle I am working on. I know most of it very well.  But the older pieces give me trouble.  I remember stories, but they are not the truth.

His mother helped.  Ripped apart pieces of the past that he left.  So I can sit curled over many pieces of torn letters, drawings or anything else that is to be found.  I patch them back up.  Tape it all back together.

I have this hunch, that once it is all done, I will have rebuilt his form.

That is grief's lie.


He is spread out over my apartment.

Bits and pieces in bags and boxes.

Half handed over reluctantly for good image's sake, the rest scavenged at night from the dumpster.

We rescue parts of him

Only parts

Since I couldn't save him whole.

Tuesday, April 3, 2012


How many dreams have we given up as we grew up?  Simple dreams like what you wanted to be when you grew up.  Once I became taller then 4' 7" and could no longer be a jockey (no matter that I barely rode before) or when I realized that the majority of professional dancers have been learning how to do so since they were in elementary school and I just realized I would like to be one of the solid gold dancers on TV in middle school.  And, really, I knew the money isn't there for dance lessons.  Or when I realized that I pass out at the sight of blood so the veterinarian dream isn't going to pan out either.

So then I dreamed of the ivory tower, stacks of books and being surrounded by knowledge.  Researching, writing & publishing brilliance, right? Then reality intrudes of day to day living expenses and frankly, unused knowledge really isn't my bag.  Why talk about things when I could go and see how they actually work in real life.

I guess that is how I ended up on this path to be a social worker.  I just hope nobody bleeds on me.

I can't quite pinpoint

Is the caption her declaration of independence?  She needs no one to coddle her, take care of her.  She is only dependent on herself. Was she reminding the person who originally held this photo that she doesn't need them? That she can, she does and she will continue to be her sole protector and caretaker.

Or was this sent on as a benediction of hope?  Independence is a long won battle for her and she is now starting to desire a partner.  Someone to wake up with and dance in the living room with.  Someone to call her baby.  Was this picture sent as an invitation?  Oblique and easily ignored, but not by anyone who wanted to be reminded that she was out there.  And she was not just waiting, she sent out this tendril, this invitation.

Who wouldn't be tempted by that smile?

I like to think that the person who received this missive smiled, sighed and packed all their things. Took a train down the coast and knocked on her door just after supper as she was cleaning up.

She came to the door, helped drag the luggage in and they piled it in the corner of the living room.  Maybe the person turned on the radio and still without a word they simply danced together in a peace that is so rarely found.