Gimp

I limp when I walk

Or is it walk while I limp. Same diff Gimp.

I tell myself that I enjoy going slower, for I notice things others don’t.
Things like my frost bitten thumb, numb against the frozen metal of the cane. Awareness?

Or the sound my full Coke makes as it slides off the McDonald’s tray in slow motion and spills all over the floor because I could not perform the balancing act required,  but thought I could.  Not the first time I have misjudged my abilities, and won’t be the last. Not the first time I have gone thirsty either.

And because I cannot escape the absurd scene quick enough because someone has just washed the slippery tile floor, I get to hear the half-wit who works there berating me, as though I have made a mess and a fool of myself on purpose. Now I am limping and embarrassed.

My hands are shaking and I might puke.

I won’t share this part of my day with the family at the supper table.

Jan.30, 2011

Good Intentions

I grew up next to my grandparent's dairy farm until I was 5, and my grandma kept chickens and sold eggs. She was a great strong lady, and I hold fond memories of those days. I just loved to spend time with her in the kitchen while she was baking, and she would sing all kinds of songs that no one else seemed to know. When she died the other grandchildren divvied up her valuables, but I asked for her mixing bowls. No better inheritance than that!

One of my most horrible memories is also of her. I was about 3 and she and I were coming into the farmhouse from the barn. I dashed up the stairs and slipped quickly out of my rubber boots. I turned and glanced over one shoulder and was surprised that I could not see my Gramma, as she had been right behind me. I decided that she must have stopped to pat the dog or take a few dry dish towels off the clothes line. Well, I also knew that I should shut the door from the porch to the house as quickly as possible to keep any flies out. Being an obedient child I slammed it with gusto.

There was a sickening crunch and then the cry of pain. Gramma had been right behind me, but had crouched down behind the door and had steadied herself to take off her boots. Her fingers had slipped into the open door frame and I had slammed the door shut across her knuckles.  I don't know who cried harder, Gramma in pain with her hand all bloody under the cold running water or me in utter shame.

Death Dream 2011

I just woke up in the middle of the night. Woke gently, but slightly bewildered.

Then, I was immediately overcome with the awareness that I was in a hospital and it was a nurse who had come to softly shake me from sleep. I could feel that institutional stifling warmth and could hear the beeping and whirring of machines and monitors, could smell the clean linens on the bed.

She told me that it was over now, that he was gone.
I had dared to fall asleep on my child's death vigil.

I looked up and could scarcely believe that the beautiful soul called Simon, my baby boy, was gone while I slept with my head resting against his side, my hand on his.

I had expected some feeling of relief when "it" finally came, but all I felt was utter grief. Disbelief, that I was left to walk my time on this Earth without his presence. Did time really exist before he was born?
The weight of the unfairness of it all was crushing my chest. Why him instead of me?

I lay beside my husband who was faintly snoring in the darkness, unaware of the sad puddle of a woman to his right.
I still had tears streaming down my face as I snuck into the boy's rooms to check on them like when they were babies. Simon was softly snoring, just like his father, and had a little grin on his face. Will was muttering in his dreams of adventure.

I have not been able to sleep soundly since this "awake dream". I look and feel like hell. At least the sun is shining bright today. I will put on sunglasses, walk the dog and try to experience my sadness, so that I may let it go, instead of burying it. Wish me luck.
Peace to all.

Caustic March

Here, a spring snow falls and covers the rubble.
It's probably the frozen version of acid rain
but it looks innocuous enough.
Certainly wouldn't be the first time
that I've been fooled by such stuff.

How Come?

Day after day
They passed over
The spot where she lay,
Unknown.
Lost but not forgotten,
Taken but not forsaken.
Alone, dreading the phone,
The call to end it all.                              
But there was no relief
When it came.
No lessening of grief
With her name.
Gone, gone.
It had gone all wrong.
So fast her life had passed,
So long they longed
For answers that would not come.
How come ?