Stain-glass Eyes

De Gaulle Airport, Paris, France Before I stepped into Prague, about two weeks ago, I had a plan.   I’d get a bus to the city centre and follow the directions to the Bread and Breakfast place I reserved ahead. My flight from the U.S. had more turbulence than I like, but I landed and found the bus I needed to head for the center of Prague.   I should mention I arrived a day late!   I missed my connecting flight in France and scheduled a flight for the next day.   I left Michigan in a blustery storm as did many from other states.   The flights were not on time so connections were virtually impossible.   But, talking to the ticket agent at Air France (who was flying for Delta) she emphatically assured me I had “Plenty” of time and should have been able to get my connecting flight! (so I paid for a night in Hotel Ibex, next to the terminal)   I was at the terminal (Charles de Gaulle Airport) by five the following morning to get m...

Yeah, it’s the first of December.   I feel the crispness in the air.   The almost, musical sound of charity bells ringing.   Aisle upon aisle of holiday decorations in stores.   Ugly holiday sweaters instead of cute ones. Velvety dresses and shiny shoes….   Piped-in music buzzes in my ear whether or not I make a conscious choice to listen.   The calendar clogs up with reminders of time-lines.   Every day I’m checking to see if there’ll be snow in case I need to wear boots.   Memories creep in.   They take up space in my already bulging mind. I have presents to create (and a late birthday gift for my niece), chorale rehearsals to prepare for, packing decisions to finalize before my trip abroad.   And still I have to cram in walking and swimming.   Maybe a nap or two would be delightful. I saw a candy cane this morning.   It brought me to tears.   It’s not funny.   I was overwhelmed with sadness. Not a...

Don’t step on me, crush me, get in my space. I stay here on earth to tell you, or anyone. Don’t think you can enter uninvited.   You can’t.   I won’t let you, allow you to or give you permission. I won’t feel bad, guilty, mean or unkind.   I have what little confidence I need because I am learning to set perimeters around myself. I imagine they will keep me safe.   Safe from what?   You couldn’t begin to understand.   It may seem like it’s not reality to you.   But it is.   It’s my reality, my haven, my treehouse, safe from invasion. I have the signs posted.   No Trespassing!   No False Friends Allowed!   No Two-Faced Pretenders Here!   This is MY clubhouse!   Is it exclusive?   Yes!   Hell yes, it is!   Are there rules?   Yes! Damn stringent rules.   Exceptions?   Rarely.   But, I can’t say never.   I wouldn’t begin to know.   There are wind...

Powerful forces drown my heart. I miss being loved and loving you. The pressure of loss takes my breath away. I press my ear to your bare skin.   Your heart throbs through your ribcage,   a small “click” with each beat   reaches me in the stillness, as we lie there. Your baby-soft skin, your silky hair,   Your hands like torches, ignite fires. My heart feels like a backed up river, It pushes and hammers at the blocked dam. I cry for access through the barriers I designed. There’s nowhere for me to go. I pound into the river bank instead, Bruised by each impact. From reminders of how we held hands, kissed in the park, How we sat silently, with a cup of coffee in our hands, on Liberty Street. Our eyes look out the window at the people who pass. I smile to I hear you explain how I should let my feminine side out while you push yours deeper inward. You claim you can’t sing, but your ri...

The fan is making a humming sound in the open window this morning.   Outside is a sixty-four-degree-Brooklyn, New York.   Inside a still, dark apartment  I sit  on the bed (wide awake).  My daughter is sound asleep in the next room. I quietly get up to close her bedroom door so I can mill around without waking her. I grab a banana, my laptop from the tall, wooden, kitchen table and set down on the bed to write.   I don’t always know what I will write, I do know I need to step back and process the last couple of weeks. I flew into Nashville to surprise my sister on her birthday, two weeks ago.   After a week with her, in Tennessee, I flew here.   One of Jeannie's beautiful birthday flowers! Airport travel------ Adjustments are continuous. Different living spaces, food, conversation and activities. Each adjustment forces my mind and body to leave its safe, comfort zone.   When it does I feel myself become more ...

I near the stony beach on Lake Huron, filled with dormant, Canada geese.   They stand up, walk slowly first and show their early morning-laziness. When my feet hit the rocks off the grass They begin to run to the edge and fly across the water, rippled with small waves. They’re like a bunch of crotchety old ladies and Scroogely-old men. They bitch with honks, their comfort zone disrupted. I slip off my sandals when my feet touch the water throwing them far enough on the beach no groping waves can grab them and take them away. Ouch! Sharp stones on bare feet! My weight accommodates the torture. Only seconds of pain though. I dive into the cool, rippled water as pleasure surrounds my skin. It feels like I’ve draped a silky Kimono on my body, head to toe. Mom’s already halfway down the beach, head down, with her white baseball cap covering her hair. Her brilliant idea to make an early morning visit to the beach. She searches for ...

My sweet, kind, portable bicycle. White with baby blue lettering. A water bottle holder and three gears. It begs for some air in the back tire before we take off. Wants to show me the trail and make me exercise all in one. I agree to the adventure, but wear my cushioned bike shorts, just in case. I Love the Coasting! I’m glad to have water. “Why won’t you go into first gear?” I ask (a bit irritated) It stays stubborn until I coax it gently and consistently. Monarch butterflies fly by and with me. Green grasshoppers hop on the trail   as it dips and winds beside a mature forest. A doe with her twin fawn shows herself. Cautious. But her golden-orange coat gives her hiding spot away. The two wait for her to cross the road. They think they’re hidden. I wait, but their patience is much more instinctive than mine. Later a rabbit thinks it’s invisible, too. But, it’s in plain sight. Looking like a part of the short grass only not ...