My Daily Kaleidoscope
Lately, intersecting moments have filled my days.
Today was a discordant work of art.
The whys and hows have escaped my understanding.
I seldom have time to ponder them.
Looking at the pieces all I see is a kaleidoscope
of memories and experiences.
I stood in line to renew my driver's license
as a woman shouted to reclaim her pens and clipboards.
I laid on a straw mat in a jade igloo
and then on a jute mat in a charcoal dome.
I shivered in an ice room and baked in a clay sauna.
I sang made up songs with an enchanting four year old
who didn't care if we sang the same words.
My shoes went off and came back on at least half a dozen times.
I wore a pink uniform, dress pants, cargo shorts
and finally hole ridden jeans.
I wrote about preparing allergy free foods safely
and dabbled in web design.
I blared music from my car's speakers and danced.
I laughed while waiting at the DDS, oh how I laughed.
I inhaled paint fumes, jade, exhaust, gardenia petals,
my cat's belly, coffee and a child's bubble bath.
I watched people communicate despite language barriers
using hand gestures aplenty.
I made mistakes and then reassured a child that we all make them
and hope to learn from them.
I was razzed by a friend for showing up on his doorstep
as he was standing there in only underwear.
When the sun set, I felt drawn to the roof of my building.
There, I sipped a beer and watched the burning disc of the sun
sink behind the city as the glowing full moon rose.
A man parked his truck and changed his clothes in a lot below me.
Others trudged by on their evening journeys.
A transit bus drove by wearing the slogan "We will make you happy, guaranteed."
Traffic lights and honking horns pulled my attention away from myself.
I felt my shoulders loosen a bit and I laughed at the melodic angry honks from below.
I swallowed the last of my beer, said good night to the city lights.
I turned around to a sky where nothing was visible but the moon.
A moon so full and radiant that I felt tears in my eyes and on my cheeks.
It had been there all along and when I turned around it soothed me.
I disappear sometimes, friends. From life, from my work,
from the relationships that matter to me and, I see now,
also from this blog. I apologize to you and to myself for that.
I will work to reduce (with the dream of stopping) these disappearances.
I am a more whole person when I write, whether I do so in the perfect setting,
with my favorite pen and blissful silence or not.
Thanks for bearing with me as I learn this.
Thanks for calling me back and offering me community
whether I am here or not.
I am grateful to you all for that!