Eileen

After this visit, I drove away along tree lined autumn parkways, past the French Meadow Bakery and the CC club, through downtown, toward home. I put each of my babies into colorful nighties, under yellow orange green sheets in lively rooms. I wondered, one day, will they blow a kiss to say goodbye? Will they cry out for me, 90 years from now?

suitcase

Getting There Takes Some Time

Eileen sleeps the sleep of a traveller

Fitful, pulling at her own translucent limbs

transparent skin gathered up and quilted together by scabs and small bruises

at 93, this is life

imagine

at 23, this life

applying final touches to pursed ruby painted lips

she blows a kiss to mother and then away, down the steps, a man there waiting,

or a gaggle of girls There is a war on

Friends admire her raucous laugh, tease her for dancing clumsily, share secrets

she will take to the grave

Now, frail and pointed, a body uncovered and empty, she carries only these

Eileen reaches out Cries out for Mama, for Mother

She accepts a stranger’s hand, calms, lets go a tear which travels

over her desert cheek in a sideways trajectory

gradually finding its way along the cracks and fissures left there by time

Through plastic blinds, the moon blooms into fullness, a moon just made for traveling

Tonight Eileen will be traveling

 

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Fly

By AdrielleRoyale Nature in Photography

By AdrielleRoyale Nature in Photography

Some birds are not meant to be caged, that’s all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild. So you let them go, or when you open the cage to feed them they somehow fly out past you. And the part of you that knows it was wrong to imprison them in the first place rejoices, but still, the place where you live is that much more drab and empty for their departure.

— Stephen King

 

 

Image

In Memory

In Memory

She said, “I don’t know if you remember…”
I do. I remember little Abby.
Dark eyed, long-limbed Abby,
Standing just behind Leah’s shoulder, saying hello.
Climbing out of a kayak,
Playing tag around the campsite,
Asking for marshmallows and another piece of chocolate
By the fire.
In the morning, she will clamber back into the kayak
And sail on,
Drifting along to that place where people we knew as children
Stay young and sweet and safe,
Unchanged by time, unhampered by ill health,
Unforgotten, no matter how long it has been.