First Freeze

The ice this morning reminds me
of everything I meant to do:

The bed of strawberries, leaves frozen, ground frozen,
crying silently for a cover of straw.

The garden hose coiled neatly; a snake of ice.

The cannas bulbs undug
waiting patiently beneath stiffly frozen stalks.

Those potted plants,
drenched by the last rain,
anchored in place on the porch step.

Their immovable solidness a mockery
of all my good intentions.

People I Have Disapointed

K. who said: "Keep that hairbrush so you won't forget me."

M. who probably still wishes I would perm my hair and not wear jeans with holes in the knees.

A. with whom I sat up most of the night, wrapped in a thin robe, trying to talk through a misunderstanding.

The curly haired guy whose name I can't remember. He called me collect and I didn't accept the charges.

A. who said: "I don't want to come and visit you. Things will just be different and I'll be mad."

H. who wanted to be my boyfriend in grade school.

L. whose tears streamed down her face when it was time to go.

D. because I said, "I'm sorry, this won't work out."

A. because I never said "I'm sorry, this won't work out."

M. who truly believes my soul is in peril.

A. who wanted me to care more than I could.

Random Memories

Earliest memory: following a man with a shiny, bald head down the hallway of what would be our new home. I was two years old.

Around three, I collected roly-poly bugs with my neighbor, John, and tried to sell them to passers-by on the street.

Also at three: we moved to the country. I remember walking through grass higher than my head.

At twenty two I got married to my closest friend.

At ten, my family moved to a different state to make a new start.

At eight, Daniel always chose me to be Daisy when we played The Dukes of Hazard at recess.

At nine, I ignored Jeff when he called for help after a bike wreck (I never knew why I did this.)

At thirty four, I am happy to find a field of grass growing higher than my head.

At seventeen, I got a horse on Christmas day. At the time I thought it was the best gift ever.

Memories of a New Year Holiday

Unable to sleep we strolled
through Hyde Park.
Past midnight. Streetlights wore
a dull halo in the misty rain.

We had a hotel in Earl's Court
three stories up. And you climbed
out the window and down the back wall
into the locked garden, to retrieve something I had dropped

It was the first time in my life
that I started each day with coffee or hot tea.
Cupping that steaming warmth in a travel mug
and walking off into the rain!

We spent an entire afternoon sitting on a railing
making sketches of London Bridge, a lamp post,
and people milling in the street.
We shared a set of colored pencils between us.

New Year's Eve was:
Supper at a corner resturant
a watch night service at St. Paul's
and riding the underground free of charge.

Unable to sleep we strolled
through Hyde Park.
Past midnight. Streetlights wore
A dull halo in the misty rain.

Lake Morning

The water is a deep, smooth indigo dappled with light. The firs hugging our porch catch the morning sun in their top most branches and throw us into shadow. There is a gentle, kissing lap of soft waves against the seawall, birds chitter off in the distance, the air seems almost heavy with the dark, earthy, balmy scent of fir.

Suddenly, the roar of a motor boat slicing through the water with startling swiftness splits open the dream, chasing an errant merganser caught fishing in too deep water.

Slippers Under Our Feet

This beach is littered with slipper shells. They are smooth and glossy; pink, grey, or stained with green. Flipped over, they have a funny half bottom; like a little slipper. Once, on a Florida beach that was thick with coquina shells, we were excited to find three of these. Here, they are washing up with each new wave, we crunch them under our feet.

Choosing

I chose when I tasted that first bite of pomegranate seeds mixed up with tamarind and hot pepper that the eager vendor scooped into your palm. "Taste this" you said, and offered me your hand. (I don't think I had noticed you before.)

The child doesn't get to choose, but I do, and have. Sitting on a sand beach listening to the waves slap in I see her building sand castles (dream castles) while you squat in the surf sifting through rocks carried in with the waves. You toss three into my lap. One is smooth orange shot through with streaks of silver gray, one brilliant pink, one transparent, glossy: a sea diamond. Squeezing the stones in my palm I lift my face and smile into the wind. Even in angry times, when your words pelt like sharp stones against my ears; even then I remember that I chose, and am still choosing. So I take the pretty, brilliant pink stone and place it atop the dream castle she builds in the sand. Smiling, she claps her hands. I do not tell her that in an hour's time it will be carried out with the tide.

Tyrant

Too tall for my age, a domineering grin on my face,
Hair in my eyes, uniform skirt askew -
I can see it like a scary movie
Spiraling out of control across the screen -
His tear-streaked face going all red and blotchy.

I cannot remember his hands; did we tie them?
I can remember his face, and his soft belly,
and the rope digging in and me screaming "Tighter!"
They pulled tighter. "Kill him!" I commanded
(We were only playing)

Where did we find rope on the school playground?
I cannot remember where - But God! I remember his eyes!
No mercy! Where did that demon come from?
I screamed "Kill him!" until the bell rang
And all the kids ran to line up.

He was sobbing, trying to get free.
"Help me," he pleaded "I will be late."
That is when the craziness left me.
Suddenly I was human again.
I saw a crying boy who would be late for class

I struggled with the knots and freed him
"You ok?" "Yeah, sure, thanks."
"Let's run!" I urged
He bent over and shyly kissed my cheek.
We ran back hand in hand.