Friday, September 29, 2006

I've Wandered

Dear friends, I probably won't post for a few days. Today is the day I leave . . . and the day I've finally arrived. Blessings until we meet again. Peace.

~ ~ ~


I've Wandered

I’ve wandered.
I’ve rested and I know
it’s time to go again.
It is time to find the next road,
the one that will bring me closer to home.
I have no idea what is at that home,
or even where it is,
but it is time to begin the trek.
Nothing is easy
that’s worth the search,
but perhaps what’s not easy
is exactly what I need
to have peace.


~ ~ ~

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

I Knew You

~ ~ ~

I KNEW YOU


I knew you a long time ago.
Or did I?
I guess I knew
who I thought I did.
But maybe not who you are.

I met you again
not long ago,
and you were just as I remembered you.
Only different.

Do I know you?


~ ~ ~

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Homecoming 2003

~ ~ ~

HOMECOMING 2003

by
L S A

written 10/2003



It is the Autumn of 2003. We went out to dinner earlier tonight, something many like us do, those of us at or near retirement age, and as many of other ages do. I am reluctant to admit that we now do just that, go to dinner, then return home, rub our stomachs and groan about having eaten too much, and finally wait for the nap that we know is sneaking up behind us as we stretch out in the recliner. What has happened to the party animals we once were, those charming young people who went to dinner and then out to dance and have a lively evening with friends? Ah, well, long gone.

But I am already straying from my topic. Well, perhaps not. I am considering how things in the world have changed . . . and remained the same all in the same breath.

The restaurant was almost overflowing, about half or so being teenagers, all dressed to the nines (they wouldn't understand that phrase, would they?). We asked about the regalia and learned that it was homecoming at a nearby school. All through dinner, I kept looking at them and smiling, tickled with their actions, their dress, the hairdos.

Several thoughts occurred to me. First of all, it is good that they don't dance like we did . . . . the girls couldn't keep on the strappy, high-heeled sandals and take even one step backward, let alone attempt a spin during a swing dance or a jitterbug! But they looked awfully cute! The shoes themselves were daunting, at least to me. Some were high-heeled thongs with rhinestone studded straps which made my feet ache just looking! And the thick soled platforms, so popular now, seemed to contrast vividly with their tiny, lithe bodies. I remember a period of my life some decades ago when I wore similar shoes and thought them completely normal, at least until such time as I stepped on a pebble, causing my foot to teeter to the left and leaving me with a seriously sprained ankle that took months to heal. Thus, I now see such shoes as clunky, frivolous, and wonder about their appeal to the young ladies out to dine with their escorts.

The girls were adorable in their little "evening" dresses . . . . sequins, slinky and glittery materials, backless, strapless, and laced from waist to shoulders. When they got up to walk around, I giggled each time one tugged her strapless gown back to a modest level or walked with a rather unbecoming clomp-clomp-clomp in those ever so cute but unrealistic shoes. Bless their hearts, most of them didn’t walk quite erect, but leaning forward a bit as their bodies tried to compensate for the unaccustomed high heels.

The dresses were very cute, something that my mother would have died if I’d put on while still in high school! Slim-fitting, soft materials that draped over their bodies, so fashionable . . . and so revealing! Their little bikini panties left incredible lines across their slinky little butts! Aren't these kids part of the generation that have taught all us women about the wonders of thongs? Ahh, well, obviously not this group! Or perhaps their moms could cope with the dresses, but weren’t ready yet to give in to the wearing of thongs. At any rate, it seemed that this young ladies were sort of suspended somewhere between being daddies’ little darlings and feisty little sirens of today’s world.

Each girl had her own version of the "done-up" hairdo, you know, the one we actually had done at the beauty shop in a style that we would never, NEVER wear in the real world. All those curls were bobbing and flipping at a dazzling pace. Were we ever like that? Probably so. I’ve noticed that when a woman of any age wears a hairdo to which she is unaccustomed, there is more movement from the neck up than is “usual.” Why is that?

Secondly, I commented to my husband that I don't even remember being that young. Then I corrected my statement . . . . .I do remember being that age rather clearly. But I don't remember feeling as young as they looked! OHMIGAWD, they are just babies! The boys had carnations, some pinned to their dress shirts because they wore no jackets. The ones who had jackets had about an inch and a half of white shirt below the jacket sleeve! We mused about the difficulty high school aged boys had getting just the right amount of shirt sleeve visible at the cuff, and by the next big school dance, there had been enough growth that neither the shirt nor the jacket fit right, causing the boy angst about his appearance, while his parents surely groaned inwardly because it meant another wardrobe adjustment which strained the family budget.

Throughout dinner I continued to be enthralled with the youngsters, our future. A few sat throughout their meals, but most of them popped up every few minutes and scurried as gracefully as possible in the unfamiliar garb, obviously chosen to give them the appearance of grownups, and framing their equally obvious struggle to fit the self images each had.

It was a fun evening, watching and chuckling about these little women of tomorrow's world and their awkward knights in shirtsleeved armor. I am sure that our parents . . . .oops! make that "and grandparents"! . . . . similarly smiled and faded back into their own memories, amusements, and amazements around us. Isn’t it wonderful to be able to sit back and enjoy watching the endeavors of becoming adult in our society without having to relive it? These were children-going-on-adults, finding their niche, searching for their own paths of experience and emulating the older persons in their lives, despite the probability that each would deny influence from the elders of their tribe.

And finally, the most heartwarming aspect of the evening may well be that these precious youngsters, the ones who made my evening so enjoyable and gave me cause to smile indulgently, will be taking their sprained ankles, necks rubbed sore by buttoned collars, and their broken hearts home to someone else. My dues are paid. Being sixty years old isn’t all bad!

~ ~ ~

Sunday, September 10, 2006

Affirmations From A Child



The following is untitled, just random thoughts I had one day about why the rough parts of parenting are worth it. Sometimes, it is hard to remember. Times like this bring back the answer with no doubt as to why we continue.








My children made my life, in general, worth going on. Coming home to my children was one of life's greatest pleasures.






~ ~ ~

Nothing soothes
The frazzled ends
Of a bad day
As a sweet child’s voice
Singng a song
As she cuddles in your arms
And whispers
That her best friend
Wore a dress today, too.
Somehow the world seems right again
As she recites a verse
About a green frog
And a pink bunny,
And you really don’t care
How tired you are
When she says,
“Mommy, you’re pretty
And I love you.”

Listen to the child,
Feel her soft hand
On your face....
Let her gently
Make the good life
Real again.


~ ~ ~






Here is the same little girl
cuddling with her daddy
and spending time
with my own daddy.



Saturday, September 09, 2006

GOD’S PATCHWORK QUILT

I will miss this this year. I will leave Kansas City before the leaves turn. Perhaps I will find another scene about which to write in New Mexico. But for now . . . .

~ ~ ~


GOD’S PATCHWORK QUILT

by
LSA
written October, 2004



Driving the rolling hills on the way to Nowhere, I top a hill, somewhat larger than the others, to see the array of trees of many variety stretching before me as the hills flow down into the valley ahead of me. It’s a sight that I have seen many times over during the summer, but now, in the mellowing days of fall it is different.

All summer long I’ve been driving around town as my job prescribes for me, but in the swelter of summer, the blanket of green formed by the thick tangle of trees in Kansas City doesn’t catch my eye in this way. Had I noticed at this same spot in July, I would have seen an almost never ending green, and if I think about it, I would be refreshed somewhat by the knowledge that, if I had time, pulling my car under a part of that protective cover would bring some welcome relief from
the hot summer sun. but I never have time to do that, well, unless a client cancels an appointment, and then I grumble because of the lost revenue, so the cool respite under the blanket of green rarely comes to mind.

But now, in the cooling days of autumn, topping the hill brings a sight that I’ve enjoyed for most of the 28 years I’ve called Kansas City Home. Yes, Fall in Missouri has a special treat. And when you spend as much time in your automobile as I do, you might, like me, begin to wax poetic.


The sight I love so is those same trees, now at the height of their annual parade of color as they prepare for even cooler weather yet to come. Where before I saw a carpet of green following the gentle flow of the hills, I now see a calico pattern of reds, yellows and golds, some still green and others in shades of coral and vivid rose.


I whimsically see this brightly variegated pattern as being a patchwork quilt, made especially for us by God’s own hand. This quilt is stretched over the rolling hills, and I feel sure, although I can’t see it, tucked in around the edges to keep in the last vestiges of warmth of this season.


Could this be Nature’s way of reminding us that we should prepare for the winter ahead? “Get out the quilts!” she is saying. “It will be cold soon, and I know you don’t want to think about winter, but it is time. Air the blankets and quilts, protect the water faucets, make sure last year’s winter coats still fit and are clean.”


All too soon that patchwork quilt I see from my vantage point will be strewn on the ground. We only have a short period of warning to prepare before that patchwork quilt will be under our feet, crunching and rustling as we walk, and it will serve as a blanket in one sense, as it protect the ground growth for the hard winter months ahead. But in another way the tree limbs which will begin to be exposed as the leaves fall, will be skeletal arms, swaying and thrashing in the winds, warning us to delay no longer, winter is very close.


So, while I slow my car to a pace that is likely maddening to any other driver unfortunate enough to have picked this street to drive today, I know to soak in the beauty and enjoy it today. Soon it will be getting cooler and the nip of Winter will be all around me. And I make a mental note to check out my winter clothes during the next weekend. Oh, and get the quilts out for some fresh air while the weather is still amenable.
















~ ~ ~

Friday, September 08, 2006

Innocent Love

~ ~ ~















INNOCENT LOVE


I loved you with the heart of a child,
innocent,
without condition.
Through the years that love remained,
tucked away,
protected from the world.
When I took it out,
exposed it to the truth,
it was clear
that my love
was still the love of a child
and not enough
for either of us
today.
I still love you,
always will,
but now there are conditions.

~ ~ ~

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

You Know Me

~ ~ ~

You Know Me


Sometimes you frighten me.
The way you anticipate
My needs.
You seem to know what I want
Before I do.
Sometimes I think
If I wanted
Baked Alaska,
You’d just happen to have one
On hand.
Or is it just that you’ve
Convinced me
You can do it?
It’s hard at times
Separating my own tho’ts
From your hold on me.


~ ~ ~

Monday, September 04, 2006

Where Did You Go?

~ ~ ~

Where Did You Go?



Where did you go
when you walked away?
You were gone,
but you left footprints
across my life.
I try to ignore them
or scrub them away
but nothing works.
I’ve tried to follow them
to where you are,
but they seem to go
in circles.
So where are you?
Why did you
leave footprints,
not your heart?

~ ~ ~


Sunday, September 03, 2006

Butterflies

~ ~ ~

BUTTERFLIES




I love to watch the butterflies
as they flutter in the garden,
wisps of color, seemingly weightless,
yet they almost struggle to keep afloat
with choppy, irregular wing strokes.
To see the butterfly
in the warmth of a summer day
helps me understand
that all life has purpose,
mine and the butterfly’s, too.
The fragility of the butterfly reminds me
how delicate life is
and how, at times,
I must labor in my journey.
Then I float on wings of success
which catches the updraft
for a bit.






The powdery wings,
almost translucent,
seem lighter even than a feather.
Yet the wings, so beautifully decorated,
will carry the little butterfly
thousands of miles
before winter threatens
in my yard.






The colors tell me that life itself
is a montage,
colorful mixtures with a special quality
if I take time,
as does the butterfly,
to stop, to notice,
to savor the contrasts which make the fabric
of my life,
distinct contrasts,
yet connecting to form
a mantle of beauty
and warm memories.
I like to think of the butterfly
as a message from God,
kisses from angels,
as the soft wings of the butterfly
brush against my skin.
God sending angel kisses in butterfly wings.
How could it be any better?



~ ~ ~