Through the moments of this summer,
I've raced, head down, scurrying from one to the next.
At the end of each day as my head hits the pillow
snapshots of the preceding hours flash in my mind.
A 4 year old boy dances in his sister's old nightgown,
Two young brothers splash each other in the tub,
A child, I once helped learn the ABCs, reads me a chapter.
Many of my mornings this summer have been spent
with my young, dandelion gathering friend.
On every walk I take with this newly two year old pal,
I steer us past the magical house pictured above.
Colorful beads strewn in the tree, symphonies of flowers
a sign that reads "It's a very rich and full imaginary life."
Just the reminder that I always seem to need.
The last time we stood there together
music poured out of an open door and window.
My friend tugged my hand and said
"Music! They're Dancing in There!!"
I love that he pictured this. I hope he was right.
With that, we were off to visit the chickens.
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!