Clothes are being shed as they are walking up the driveway
Open baggage overflowing abandoned with a thump
The bodies and the water make dramatic contact
I hear and feel the flying liquid as their vocalisations fill the air with laughter and delight
Hours of play ensue
My ears and mind dance with their chatter and refreshing screams
Until they are too hungry or too tired
Children with faces I love, my children at ease and at peace
Sitting at the table alert, open and shining in my eyes.
Surrounded by sound,
A roaring through the sky
Grey-purple clouds darken the light
As streams of rain crash against
Earth, dwelling, tree.
Wild wind moves the sky water against
My back, my face, my legs.
My refuge is filled with the rhythm of the storm.
The curtains lift.
My view is hazed
by the flood against my window.
Drops of rain enter
And drip into a bowl.
The candle flame dances.
The incense smoke greets the air.
I drink warmth
And watch the moving sky
As I fall asleep on the couch.
I have a cold sore on my face whose presence is invading my life.
I looked it up, it’s a form of herpes. What the hell! Who is more reserved than me, I mean sexually, a nun maybe? I didn’t kiss a loose man or woman, unless you count my husband but he’s only loose with me. I must have had some pleasure that I should feel guilty about? I am Catholic after all.
Buddhists say that if you are tolerant in one life then you will have a beautiful face in the next lifetime. I was sure of two things about myself; that I was tolerant and that I was beautiful. Maybe it’s time for me to be sure of something else.
My children don’t even notice it of course. They might notice if my nose was missing but a cold sore doesn’t faze them. Aoife is the exception. At the age of 2 years and 4 months, she spends a lot of time in close proximity to my face and hence my cold sore. She spent about 10 minutes solid staring at it. (She had nothing else to do; I was trying to get her to sleep.) I could see the budding scientist in her. Her face said “how did it get there? Will it go away if I stare long enough? I would like to touch it but it might pop off her and onto me, yuck!” Detached curiosity in her eyes, caution in her body language, her concentration never failed.
Women love to chat. Some of us have a hard time pulling ourselves away from each other. As soon as we are in close proximity, our mouths go on automatic pilot. We jump endlessly from one subject to another. Being with one such friend is a joy for me. It is exciting, stimulating, empowering and inspiring. So it is, even with a cold sore. But with a cold sore there is a difference, my friend’s eyes are also on automatic pilot. They keep jumping from my eyes to my cold sore. My friend inwardly admonishes herself and drags her eyes back to mine. She must know what it feels like to be a man who just can’t help staring into a woman’s cleavage. So I feel like I am no longer an intelligent woman, I am a viral affliction!
The most honest reaction of all to the dreaded growth beneath my lip was a very fleeting one. I was rushing by an acquaintance, Kevin, saying hello in passing. Kevin is a tall, fun loving, exuberant redheaded man who has great affection for me. He greeted me in his usual loud and cheerful manner “Heeeeeyyyy Maaaary” and then he saw it. His face dropped. He no longer saw his beloved Mary. He had a whole new relationship happening with the blemish. “What the heck? What are you doing there?” said the frown on his face. I am left to wonder how he would do with cleavage!
The dear man who shares my bed every night cannot be kissed. At every greeting he is offered my cheek. He can still hug me but the temporary lack of lips in our exchanges is sorely missed. Upon each return to the homestead, he gets an update on the thing that sits squarely in the way of our intimacy. It is like a child who refuses to go to bed.
It is drying up now. It doesn’t even look dangerous anymore. In a few days it won’t even be a memory. I will be perplexed thinking that that something’s missing. I have learned so much from it. But it cannot stay. Unless...it is immortalised here!
Today I drove around splashing through puddles with my car and laughed with three kids a laugh that was long overdue.
I gathered wild flowers and spoke to people whose names I do not know.
I got a bike.
I said sorry.
I was entitled the best Mom ever.
I ended a contract that was no longer valid.
I played ball.
I rode a scooter.
I was serenaded by my sister.
I saw baby geese.
I laughed with friends.
And I think I grew wings because tonight I soared.
You come with beaming smile on your face
I see you laugh, I see your fun
You want to enjoy everything under the sun
You are intriguing, you are brand new
Yet for your whole life, I have known you
You can focus, you are so intent
On the games and the situations that you invent
Now you’re kind, you show such care
For those weaker than you or those who don’t dare
You are courageous, you are strong
You have braved ones who have done you wrong
You are my son and you are just eight
And yes my sweet love, I think you’re great!
What an indulgence to spend time on something that is useless unless you’re Picasso or a Dickens! Women couldn’t possibly inspire anyone with what they might produce. What have they got to say that is of any value? Their time would be better spent caring for their children and husbands, organising their worlds – helping them acquire new skills, saving and earning money for the family. How satisfying for them to see the products of their efforts; happy, healthy, financially secure people living in an agreeable environment!
How selfish of these women who allow themselves to be tempted by art! How sick some women become because they cannot find fulfillment in their families! If they have taken care of their own, there is a whole world of needy people they can care for. Africa, India, Asia, South America, even North America is full of people needing the loving hand of a woman. What a happy world we would live in if women would only do what they are supposed to do.
Women should leave the work force and nurture one and all. This would leave jobs for the men. It would solve the economic crisis. Sure, the income of each family would be reduced but this would be compensated by the work of the woman. She could do all the cooking, cleaning, child care, decoration, odd jobs, gardening, organising crafts and activities with other Moms. Women could organise themselves and save money by pooling resources. They could share their know-how with each other and pass it on through the generations.
Women’s absence from the workforce would reduce the chances of infidelity in the marriage. Men and women’s separation during the day would create a healthy tension which could be relieved in the marital bed as it should be.
Men too would be happier. They would have more free time to relax and de-stress because the women would take care of all the household chores. They could have the time to play chess, golf and smoke cigars with their neighbours.
So ladies, repress those feelings, those inklings that still might be present in your psyches. And rejoice if you don’t feel them anymore. This must be the devil drawing us all away from order, the natural law of all things. It must be resisted at all costs. It would be better to die than to abandon our families to chaos. Without our care and constant control this will surely be their demise. How much more noble it is to give yourself for others! The choice is obvious; it is a choice for life.
I awoke dreaming of what I couldn’t have, not today anyway
But got a morning full of richness
Coffee from an exotic place brought warmth to my belly
Children going to school without me, I stayed in my nightie until 10.30
A run in the rain with a happy dog and a laughing girl
A man shouting after me “I love the rain” with a Polish accent
Made me smile
A call from a very beautiful woman
I love my friend
I’m not alone
Dancing to Latin music in the kitchen
The heat on in my hundred year old house
A lunch with salmon and peppers of red, yellow and orange
And it’s not even 2 o’clock yet!
