Stain-glass Eyes

I'm sitting in the waiting room of Star Physical Therapy, while Jeannie gets her workout from Chris, her physical therapist.  He's a handsome, young, tall man with a soft slow southern accent.  His people skills probably started when he was 6 months old, when he discovered his warming eyes and sweet smile endear anyone he chooses to him.  He also has a little raise of the eyebrows and wrinkling of the forehead when he is saying something like, "Ten is just a number, don't worry about the exact amount, the main thing is we're working on the knee."  or  "You're looking great, you are not suppose to feel pain."   He spikes his hair in front and wears his clothes loose.  He wears corduroy pants with buttoned-down dress shirts he tucks in and lets hang loose over his belt. Why is it that physical therapists are more like a counsellor than a person who works on the body?  As soon as I asked that question out loud I knew.  You can't se

When reading a novel this morning a tedious paragraph made me stop.  Some authors make me think. They have some wisdom or picture I can make in my mind.  Some authors just have a beauty and flow to the words they choose. I feel l like I'm eating Culver's chocolate custard slowly, a fourth of a spoonful at a time.  I let the spoon retreat out of my mouth and feel the luxury of the cold taste with each swallow.  Paolo Giordano grabbed something in me in his writing.  It took my breath away.  I felt like he handed me a new tool for understanding my inner self.  The self I've never analyzed before when I'm having trouble with the world and what it's handing me. Giordano captivated me from the beginning of the story by his unique characters and events. But when the story got to the character Mattia thinking through numbers, I wasn't expecting to be interested at all.  I almost skipped it. 2760889966649. He put the lid back on the pen and set it down next

Building Clock Tower in Istanbul Knowing I have time to decide where to live gives me comfort.  I've had so many obstacles in front of me since Harry died I can't see the smooth ground underneath.  I'm hurdling and hurdling and don't dare set down and walk for fear of becoming cemented in one position unable to move. Depression has its way of cementing us to one position and one stance.  It's dangerous.  It causes our eyes to stay wide open no matter how tired or burning they are.  It causes food to all taste and feel like cold oatmeal.  It causes our body weight to increase tenfold by putting a heavy ball and chain on our ankle.  It causes the knock on the door and the ring of the phone to be in another layer of space and time.  It causes a stretch of the facial muscles to pull down and the teeth to stop clenching.  It causes a blurred look at time, days becomes sleeping and nights become days.  It causes us to feel like a patient in a menta

It's not often I travel from Pellston Airport.  It's a treat.  The only problem is the first flight out to Nashville is at six in the morning.  Which means leaving St. Ignace with plenty of time to get there.  (Lately, fog and frost have been something to keep an eye out for in the early morning) This morning it was clear and cool with a little breeze from Lake Huron.  Mom and I already had our large bags in the car so we just put our carry-on in and took off for Pellston.  At 4:20 a.m.!!  No hold-ups on the bridge, no rain.  Only a few heads of deer popping up along the way to keep an eye on.  I've always said I'd rather hit a deer than a skunk any day.  But, I've never hit a deer so I can't really say I'd like the feeling of the thud of a large mammal hitting my car.  I have smelled a lot of skunks that were road kill.  I can't imagine having the smell follow me after hitting one.  I'd have to get out and walk. I love traveling with M

Thumbs up From One of the 2 Men and a Truck Movers (There were 3 men because of the piano) Three Men at Doorway of Storage Close Fit!! The last of the boxes disappear in the moving van.  One last look through the empty rooms.  It's done.  The light squares embedded in the carpet look odd where the furniture was.  So do the dents where the piano stood in the entrance.  Curtains and shades are all drawn.  The morning light is just starting to come through the white shades.  It's running late because of the morning rain.   I can honestly say I've gone through this labor with no drugs or caesarian. No coach holding my hand and telling me how to breathe and when to push.  I've been brave, resourceful, patient, flexible and focused.  Focused on the end result.  Freedom.  Freedom from house ownership, from settling in one place.  Freedom from the strangling sensation of the past, squeezing th

Standing in a field of dry, brown grass a dusty rabbit hesitates. Looking for a picture to go with the sound her ears pick up first, she quickly turns her head side to side.   She can't see the sound her tall ears heard. Her instinct tells her "Statue!" She freezes. No quiver, no droop. Ears side by side. Two hind feet holding her upright. Chin up, blindly staring straight ahead. Her heart races, waiting for pounce of talons or teeth. Her eyes water in fear. Her mouth is dry. Absolutely nothing.  Not back to her hole in the ground.  Not ahead to the patch of green leaves she smelled in the early morning dew. Mantras from the past echo in her brain. She does nothing. "It's a big world out there. Be careful." "Wait for someone to help you." "Hide. Hide. Hide again." The sun peeks out from beneath a gray-pink fluffy tail in the sky. It warms her still whiskers. She hears the dew dripping from

LaSalle Falls, Wisconsin I toughen my skin. Wash worries away. How can it help me Living day to day? Tamaracks becoming orange in Atlanta, Michigan Widen horizons. Focus on the dreams. Over and over These recurring themes. By Taksim Square, Istanbul Don't burn your bridges. You seek and you find. But where do I look For this map of mine? LaSalle Falls Can I dig it up? Or will it appear? This journey is long. It's endless I fear. Focus on circles, no bridges or routes. Continuous way with no easy outs. On walk to catch ferry in Kadikoy, Istanbul The pathway I see I've traveled before. If I close a window will it open a door? Istanbul, Turkey Graffiti on Side of Walkway Leading Up to My Apartment on Lale in Moda, Istanbul -Soulful Face Latches all differ on each treasure chest. Finding the right key will

Sunny!  Nice. My house closing is today.  Interesting term "closing".  Does that mean the door closes behind me on the house?  Does it mean all the utilities are closed and the new owners have to open them up?  Or does it mean the end of a stage of my life?  I feel elated, anxious and on hyper-drive.  The sun helps with that, too.  The heavy frost on the porch at Truckey Street was a new layer to life in the U.P. when I left this morning for Gaylord.  Fall is another interesting term.  Falling leaves?  Fall of the sunlight?  Fall off the porch on the slippery frost? Now to get my pen ready and not smile too broadly when I sign at the closing.  Especially when I think of the tons of leaves the new owners will have to rake off the lawn on Schuss Lane.  Mmmmm.  It will be a new experience for them, too.

Storage units?  Self-storage. Mini-Storage, Moving Storage, Storage bins?  Oh, and I can't leave out the one called Affordable Storage.  Since I don't have an apartment to move my things into I need a place to store my things.  I'm sure before these storage places became available people used someone's garage, basement, attic or barn.  Downsizing my "things" has forced me to create a new mindset. I wonder if my generation is the first to have so many "things" we require storage space for when we move.  It's an epidemic.  It's pack-rat obesity.  Instead of our clothes getting too small, it's our living space shrinking.  We try to down-size and at the same time indulge in a double-dipped trip to the antique store or an extra large serving of a garage sale.  And every year we ask for a second helping of Christmas gifts by our family gatherings and gift-exchanges. My friend, Teresa, made a major move before me and gave me some ver

Aye Sophia-Istanbul When something is "too good to be true" we're warned to question the part about it being true.  We're told to weigh the reality against the fantasy and take another look. Maybe even pinch ourselves.  It's easy to do with scam offers I see on t.v. or when there is a sale at an expensive boutique.  Even when a real estate sign is stuck in the ground next to a gorgeous wooded lot. It can be a little harder when sentiment or emotion comes forward and pushes aside reason and common sense.  It's hard to believe things can be too "in the clouds" when I believe in karma and a spiritual world controlling some of the puppet strings attached to us.  Often I see things that "work out for the best", "are meant to be",  "are pure luck" or when "someone up there is looking out for me". So, when my new apartment had amazing, promising rainbows radiating from it, I fell.  I fell for the b

Fog lightens the darkness early this morning.  Its thick whiteness penetrates every space out in the back yard.  I can only see above the garage rooftop outside the bathroom window.  And the top of the old, fat birch tree. In the distance, past where I know the football field is, I can see a murky, yellow light where the old McCann Street Elementary School use to be.  I hesitate to turn on the light.  I know the outside will loose its eerie feeling. Like when I use to drive home from a long day of teaching and see the stars bright and low following me home.  I liked the feeling of the cold, fall evening hugging me when I'd finally pull in the driveway and get out and walk in the dark. The stars would hang there in the sky, staring me down. Waiting for me to stand still and absorb their power and majesty.  It was always annoying when the movement-sensitive light clicked on as I got out of the car and headed for the porch.  Maybe it's animal instinct to want to feel a p