A beautiful sky overhead the other evening.
My neighbors told me when I showed them this picture to just walk through their side yards to get the views without rooftops. I will do that next time. I miss the skies with trees and no buildings at my old place. It is about the only thing I miss.
Earlier this week I had a dental appointment in Murphy, so took a walk on the river there.
I expected to see some bits of green on the branches…but too early. And not one duck or goose on the river. Just a crow taking a bath.
This weekend is supposed to be rainy, so I will bake, make soup, write and draw.
It was exciting to have friends come and take me to lunch the other day. We went to a restaurant I seldom go to now. It is an okay place and they offer the only sweet potato fries in town. What made this trip especially nice was the older, Latina waitress who stopped in her tracks to say how good it was to see me again. I remembered her quite well. She had stopped to say how pretty she thought I was about five years ago. Whoever says things like that to older woman showing their age should be remembered. She paused to say how well she remembered me. How I always came in on Sunday mornings with my husband to have breakfast. She said, “You always wanted waffles with pecans added, and your husband only wanted eggs over medium with hash browns, bacon and toast. You sat two booths from where you are now. How is your husband?” I told her he passed away last year. She was sorry to hear that. Then she asked, “Do you still have that pretty green car?”
I continue to go to poetry readings. Thursday I read one about how we seem unable at times to read body language. How maybe someone just does not care to listen to what others are saying…how they don’t look and notice how much you do not want to pay attention, and how you are worrying there will be a test later on to catch you up, and expose how little attention you were paying while you waited to go back inside yourself.
I wrote this poem the other evening when I was sure I was going back to visit Joey, the librarian. Maybe he and I can get reacquainted this weekend. Hopefully he will have more to say.
There is no title yet and I am not sure it is finished…but I do like it.
I feel stuck in the cracks
of becoming someone else.
Yesterday I was funny
and I laughed.
I told funny stories and was entertaining.
Today I am not stepping
up and out of the greyness,
a comforting fog
that lets me be
how I need to be for now.
No one asks if I am okay
because I don’t let them
close enough to tell
if I have fallen short
of who they think I am.
I breathe in these cracks
and think about how much
that means
breathing
taking in only the the air needed
to pause and just breathe.
S. Webster
Think it is time to post this and take a walk.
Til later…..