Tea

I gave you the edge of reason, and there it sat, unattainable to your trembling hands

Gifts like these feel like poison rather than kindness, rather than, the warmth of tea

I gave but it became a burden, alongside hope, that loses its sparkle and you feel that tug of breathless crush on your chest

I could squeeze it into your hand, a gift, my hand to yours, but it’s too heavy now—perhaps in the morning light it will feel weightless and smooth like the sunrise

Reason, edge upon edge of it, slicing, gutting the soft bellied things

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Memoirs of The Space Between Youth & Death

It was bound to happen. I find life has its own way of rearranging what was into what is without too much effort. It has an inertia that time meshes with & we look back, and there it is—something has changed.

Life is propelling my two oldest towards such new & interesting adventures. They have been all over the place in what they’ve wanted. But they ultimately want to be full time preachers, teaching the Bible. After one being accepted even into the construction engineering tech program at the local tech school, she has decided not to go. Instead, they’ve both been hired as photographers.

So they will work the fall season with a local photography company & then, they are going to Africa to be with my brother & sister in law for 4-5 months. They will come back in April or May and work the spring photography season & then, if they’ve like that year of their lives, do it all over again, going again to do what many would consider ‘missionary’ work, tho we don’t call it that.

As for me, I’ve happily gotten a job outside my house for the first time in many years.

I can tell you, that’s a scary thing. Interviewing for a job after years of being at home was nerve wracking. But it went well and I got it. I will be doing home care for seniors. It’s a humble job. The pay isn’t great but I am fine with that for now.

The funny thing is, I like old people. Even when I was a kid, they and the stage at which they are at doesn’t scare me. I think many people are afraid of age, and the looming death that comes to us all. I never really was.

Caring for seniors in this roll, of companion, less medical than a health aid, is actually something I feel comfortable with. The training includes all the tough stuff that comes to mind when caring for older ones, but, it is progressive. As your clients age you gain training & experience with the sensitive parts of the job.

We are an aging population. People of all ages are lonelier than they’ve ever been—ironic since we have communication at our fingertips. But older ones are the loneliest I believe. They are forgotten. To provide help to them seems to be one of the best things I could go into the job market and do.

It’s not much glory. Not much money. Not exciting. It’s just caring for other humans, which has been my full time job for the greater part of my life. It allows me to remain available to my kids before & after school which was also so important to me while they’re young. I’m sure as we all adjust I will gradually increase my availability if I need to. But it really was an answered prayer, to get a job, but still be here for my kids, to be able to pick my hours & clients & feel like it’s a valuable job beyond money. If it’s not for me, that’s fine too. It dips my feet back into the working world. But, answered prayers have a way of settling just right I find.

Life bends under time’s inertia, and I move forward, finding I’m the same but completely changed. As is, everyone else.

Blackness

I folded night, with a little warm wish

I closed tight my fist

The rain, the black—the storms that sweep & wail against the finery of my window pane

Warm whispers of cold things

Little shocked tongues & moonhaze

Each glow coming forward and tearing open my chest

Singing into it, like all songs do

How they whisper, bright & black in midnight’s hue

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This quietly enclosure of froth & sound & murmur
Like wind on turbulent hills
Sun on pre-scorched flesh
Swallows & crows beak at the bindings of
Air
Air circles my breath like summer circles the winter
A small time then ache
Ache comes quick & clean & sorrow on its doorstep

I’d hide there. Broken. A longing lost on my lips
Like the words I never speak like the
Foods I never
Eat like the
Eyes I never
See like the
Wounds that
Weep & weep