Someone scattered
Easter eggs
throughout the neighborhood
for us to find
on our morning walks.
Little secret spreader
of smiles,
Thank you.
Morning Hello
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“Welcome”
A witch just walked past my window.
She was in a black cape, raven hair.
She didn’t look at me, but knew I was watching.
What moxie.
“You see me. I know it. I know you’re there, but I’m not going to look.”
It was her “welcome to the neighborhood” for me.
Growing Family
Little feet
padding quickly on the wooden floor
from his room
to ours
in the middle of the night
standing by my bed
waiting.
I reach down with one hand
and sweep my toddler son
into the middle of our bed.
He lays flat on his back
placing one hand on his dad
and one hand on me.
deep sigh
then falls back asleep.
Bigger feet
lumbering across the wooden floor
from his room
to the kitchen
early in the morning.
Refrigerator door opens
he stands
grazing
on leftovers dipped in ranch dressing he leaves in little bowls
just for this purpose.
Pops a can of flavored water
then back to his room.
Grown feet
softly walking from his childhood room
to the kitchen
where he stands
boils water
for morning tea.
He feeds our cats
whom he misses when he not here.
Looks at his work emails
plays news podcasts.
We are still his home
but he has a new home too
with his beloved
who is our new beloved too.
28 enero 2022
I Would Color This Winter Wind
The birds knew it just before I did.
They had been singing and flying tree to tree
following me on my morning walk.
The air was very still.
It was quiet except for the serenade of the birds…and squirrels.
Then silence.
They all landed on trees or scurried into bushes.
I stopped.
Then we were all blasted with the north wind.
This is how winter arrives in north Texas.
If I could color this wind
it would be a mix of white white white
and fresh sea blue.
It would be a swirl of these colors
rolling across the sky
leaving a shivering trail.
Nothing moves after it passes.
The grass, still green,
is shocked.
Not a blade bends.
This is when I bundle up and stay outside.
My neighbors know my blue ankle length Arctic coat
With boots, ski pants, hat, sweater and gloves.
I’m a pudgy figure waddling around our empty streets.
I belong outside.
I always have.
Mostly I like it warm,
just wearing shorts and a t-shirt.
But I’ve found a way to be in cold weather.
A kind of winter solidarity with the animals
who have no choice
other than to seek shelter and warmth
snuggled under leaves
and in bushes and nests.
I talk to them as I walk around.
I don’t see them
but I know they are there.
They know I’ll keep pouring water over the ice in the bird bath
and saucers I’ve set out for them.
I imagine them peering out at me.
I think they are thanking me.
I know I am them.
Morning Walk
The moon
looks like a gentle watercolor
fading in the sky this morning.
Only the birds and squirrels
seem to be awake
and me.
There’s a falcon
sitting on a neighbor’s mailbox.
A falcon.
In the city.
I stopped and looked.
The falcon stopped and looked too.
Then he flew away.
And I walked on.
There’s a very thin layer on ice
on the creek,
I stop
and just look as the sunlight
glistens it.
As I round the curve in the road
back toward my house
I remember Thich Nhat Hanh
who died earlier today.
I thank him for teaching the world
how to walk
mindfully.
22 enero 2022
Clara Smoking Her Cigar
I only was with her for half a day, touring her tobacco farm in Cuba. Well, not really “her” farm, but the land she farmed in some kind of quasi-ownership relationship with the Cuban government. Not sure what.
We, my family and I, walked through the rows ploughed in the fields by donkeys pulling an anvil. The land was rocky and didn’t look too fertile to me. It looked dry. Hard work to produce just even tobacco leaves to fill 3-4 barns for drying. There were several empty barns waiting for a better crop year.
Clara stayed at her house, waiting for our return where her husband showed us how to roll our own Cuban cigars. We did it poorly, but were allowed to return our failed attempts to the common bowl.
Then Clara slowly handed us each a cigar she had rolled. She showed us how to puff just so, like a true Cuban. She took extra delight in teaching my handsome, nineteen year old son how to do it. Watching the two of them puff back and forth was the joy in watching people connect when they seem to have little else in common.
As we waved goodbye, I turned for one last look and saw Clara leaning on her window sill. She looked content with her cigar. Her world.
Yes, it’s all slower
This year
this 2020
has slowed
us
down.
Off
the addiction
of rush.
Let’s steep in this tea.
#TakeAKnee = We Can Do Better
American is all a twitter (pun intended) over NFL players taking a knee during the national anthem before a football game. So many think that the players are being disrespectful to the military, the flag, country, etc. That they are being “un-American.”
Take A Knee means we can do better as Americans. In this case, we can do better about social justice in particular about how law enforcement treats blacks. There has been much evidence that justice isn’t always blind, and, therefore, #TakeAKnee is to bring attention to that issue so that we can do better as Americans.
NFL player, Eric Reid (no relation), was the first player to kneel with Colin Kaepernick in 2016. He did so to protest police brutality and was motivated by his faith. “Faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead,” he said in a New York Times interview.
American was founded on ideals– with an “L” about how we can do better. “Liberty and justice for all” “All men are created equal” We didn’t implement these ideals well in the beginning. We, eventually decided we can do better. So we abolished slavery because we decided we can do better and not enslave people for economic gain. It took a civil war, but we did it. We eventually granted women the right to vote because we believed we can do better. It took protests and imprisonment and punishment, but we did it.
Civil rights, women’s rights, human rights… it’s not about taking away someone’s rights, it’s about we can do better about moving closer to living the ideals of the founding of our country.
We don’t have leaders in DC, or in many houses of faith for that matter, who are willing to express thoughtful language that inspires us to do better. So it’s up to us, we the people, to be careful with each other. Focus on what we have in common. Have compassion for each other. Remember, we don’t really know what others are experiencing and so let’s listen, connect, try…
We are the ones who can do better.
#SolarEclipse2017-Getting absurd
Cheap pool rafts, bought on sale for $2.43. Let me tell you how we got to this point…
This girls trip to see the solar eclipse was supposed to be “we’ll wake long before dawn, drive out to a prime spot on the NASA chart showing best viewing sites, then drive back (“even if it takes all night”).
We kept hearing how this is supposed to be the “single largest migration of humans in history” and started worrying that driving there might be one long parking lot and we could miss the entire event. So, we found a property posted on the town website where we are going. (hotels were long sold out)
Vicki called and spoke with the owner of the house and (we think) farm. She was feeding chickens earlier and missed the first call. She called back, talked to Vicki about the set-up, “rough camping, car camping, some port-o-lets will be set out, access to clean water…”
She even promised Vicki that we could “use the restroom in the house if we were more comfortable with that.” All that for only $50! Sold.
That was in May. Car camping. One night. We can handle that.
Vicki went back and forth about buying a tent, but then we’d need sleeping bags. She doesn’t set-up tents well (her assessment), we need coffee in the morning so that meant buying a stove, which meant a coffee pot for it…on and on.
Ok. Ok. Back to car camping.
Last week, Vicki decided we needed to break up the driving trip to our tiny solar eclipse town. Since she drives the wide-open spaces of middle of America and I don’t, I agreed. The “let’s drive out and back on one long day like you do when you’re a poor college student” has now become a real trip. Yes, still a cheap trip (still by design), but more parts to it now. Images of the motel in “Thelma and Louise” keeps scrolling in my head.
The next day, Vicki Facetimes me. She’s lying in the back of her new Prius with a yoga mat.
“The two of us won’t fit back here. And it’s not very comfy, even with the mat. I have blankets I’ll pack to make it softer. I’ll sleep in the front passenger seat. It lays back flat and, I’ve tested it. It’s not bad. I can sleep there and you can have the back.” Vicki was firing off point after point.
I said, “Ok.”
I learned a long time ago that, when traveling, it’s best to let the person with the most passion about particular parts to lead. Unless it’s something I really have a strong opinion about…roll with it.
So, today I bought a pool raft to be my mattress while sleeping in the back of the Prius.
It’s probably too long and won’t fit. The air may seep out during the night. But that’s not really the point of the trip now is it?
BethenyReid 