I’m Thinking About Christmas…
Posted on December 11, 2008 - Filed Under Christmas, Family, Holiday, love
I’m thinking about Christmas. To those of you who know me, you also know that Christmas is and always has been a big deal to me. I really look forward to it every year - it is my favorite holiday and always has been. I simply am not happy if I can’t buy presents, send cards, decorate, cook and bake up a storm for Christmas.
Naturally, this Christmas I won’t be doing any of those things. Recent events - such as selling everything I own and moving cross country - has sort of superceded Christmas and its requisite activities. And to tell you the truth I’m not nearly as upset as I feared I would be. Sure, I’m disappointed that I can’t do what I always do but then maybe it just means I have to be more creative than usual.
So, how does one celebrate Christmas with no funds whatsoever? Seriously, I am not kidding - there is zero budget for Christmas this year. In fact, I was joking with a friend the other night, explaining that I was so broke that likely I wouldn’t even be able to afford to send free ecards to anyone. I did buy a little (living) Christmas tree to hang my one box of Christmas ornaments I brought with me. After the holiday, we will plant it in the big, big yard so it can grow to be a big pine someday. I think I have a couple of stamps so I may send my mom an actual Christmas card if I can find where I packed them.
I think mostly I will just listen to Christmas music and sing along when no one is listening. I will bake pumpkin bread and maybe some cookies and we’ll have turkey with stuffing for dinner. Sometime in the next few days I will write a Christmas story, as has been my tradition these last few years. I will write Christmas themed poetry too. I will watch the Christmas movies I managed to stuff into the trunk before we left L.A. and do so by the light of our little Christmas tree. But more than anything I will celebrate Christmas by counting my blessings. That I am relatively healthy, and so are my pets, I am with the love of my life in our sweet, funny little house, that I have many dear and wonderful friends and though life may not be filled with many material things, it is filled with the things that matter - snowflakes, Christmas lights, music, the smell of good food, rosy cheeks, smiling faces, love and joy. What more, really, could you ask for?
Family Affair…
Posted on November 4, 2008 - Filed Under Family, Humor, Just For Fun, brain farts
I don’t know about you but family has always been a very strange and mysterious creature to me. Perhaps I don’t have the standard family gene or my ideas about family are just flat out strange. Which quite possibly is saying the same thing in two different ways. Anyway, my family is I suppose like anyone else’s, a combination of sitcom, soap opera and amusement park rides (E ticket of course). I love my family but I have to say I’m not very much like them. Like not at all.
In fact, Mom used to say that I was a gift from the mailman. As a young child this confused me and I seriously wondered if I was mailed to them and maybe because they had an extra room they decided to keep me rather than pay the return postage. Though Mom also used to say I was born 40 which really made me wonder why I wasn’t a C section and why I wasn’t allowed to have my own apartment - but I digress…
I find the whole concept of family just a little strange. Here you are born into a group of people with whom you may or may not have anything in common (beyond the genetic pool and markers) and yet you must love them. You must have holiday dinners with them, remember their birthdays, call them on the phone occasionally and forgive when they do some really shitty things. It’s about love and all that. But there is no other relationship on Earth where you are not allowed to choose it, right? I mean you choose your friends, they aren’t just given to you at birth, are they? And we choose our spouses/significant others, yes? Even your co-workers and neighbors you choose (at least a little) and if it turns out you don’t like them you can quit your job or move. With family not so much.
With family you take what you get, right? If you have a crazy Uncle Joe who likes to play the national anthem on his empty Budwieser bottles, you’re kind of stuck with him. Can’t exactly go to the uncle exchange store and swap him out for a nicer more likeable model. If Mom is all twittery, you can’t drug her and make her like Mrs. Cleaver, you just have to live with twittery. And parents can’t trade in their evil little hellraisers for sweeter Beaver Cleaver models either. So you learn to live with it - or you disown them en masse or individually. Though honestly, that really doesn’t work because for whatever reason there is that pull - that invisible silly string that tangles you up with them somehow in way that no other group of people can tangle you.
They can try to devour you on a daily basis, blame you for the sky falling and give you the worst Christmas presents ever, yet still….that pull, that magnetic force that binds you will not release you. Even if you separate yourself from them physically, you can never do so mentally or emotionally. They all sit in the back of your head arguing over the Christmas dinner table, while you’re dodging the mashed potatoes and gravy. Face it folks, their yours and you’re theirs. And no matter how many battles, laughs, tears or whatevers ain’t nothing ever going to change that. Weird, huh?
At Last - Theme Fridays
Posted on October 31, 2008 - Filed Under Family, Life, love, original fiction, theme fridays
At last, I sent my final breath into the atmosphere and I was free. The smell of antiseptic and the squeak of rubber-soled shoes couldn’t touch me anymore. And the colors of the stars were foreign sparklings in the sky that loved me.
I was a child again, teeming with energy and bright ideas. The world a playground and no longer a prison of tubes and pain killers, lethargy and waiting.
All the thoughts and concerns I’d not been able to voice at the end vanished and I couldn’t remember what the worry was in the first place.
Did you know that the moon does look like swiss cheese, close up?
Giddy with freedom and panoramic vision, I turned sommersaults in rarefied air. Giggling so much that if I’d still been stuck in that meatball of a body another drug for hysteria would have been prescribed.
But something pulled me back like flowers to the sun and I found myself hovering once again, in that familiar chamber of death. My lifeless body a curiosity - how shriveled and pale it had become. I felt no longing to return to it. Oh, but a longing I did feel. She was there. My bright girl, a huddle of tears and regrets. “Oh Daddy!”
“It’s okay, Kate,” I whispered in her ear but she could not hear me.
“What will I do without you?” she clutched the white, cold hand that was once mine.
“You’ll go on. You’ll get out of this hell-hole and see that life is out there, waiting for you, my darling girl.”
The nurse tried to pry Kate loose from the hospital bed and that sad room that tried to be happy with flowers and crayon drawings from the grand kids, family photographs, cards and boxes of chocolates dressed in gold lacy bows but never eaten. “Get away from me! I won’t leave him,” Kate threw off the woman’s hands.
Kate always had a fearsome streak that could wilt the steeliest of wills. The squeaky shoes hightailed it out of the room and enclosed Kate in my living tomb and I ached to release her from her chains. “You have to let go, dear,” I whispered again. “It’s time to let me go.”
Kate lasered a sharp look at my still body.
“That’s right, I’m here,” I said a little louder.
Alert mahogany eyes scanned the room. “Who is that?” she rasped.
She could hear me but would she listen? “It’s me, honey.”
More darting eyes, tears rose and threatened to spill over. “Daddy? Where are you?”
“I am in the ether and next to you. I am free. I’m in the air that you breathe, the sun that comes through the open window, the clouds in the sky. I am everywhere.”
And then Kate smiled and let go of my hand. She drew the sheets up to my chin and tucked me in and then planted a sweet kiss on my forehead. “Good bye, Daddy. I love you. I will always love you.”
And I saw the color rise again to her cheeks and her spine straighten as she stepped to the door, then paused. Kate turned back and looked at the shell that was once me and smiled. “You’re free, at last.”
copyright 2008
Christine’s at last moment here and Panther is at lasting here
Life is Short…
Posted on September 6, 2008 - Filed Under Dear Readers..., Family, Life, friends, love
This year has been a helluva experience - a lot of good, a lot of bad, a lot of suprises, a lot of lot of… And Jesus Christ, it ain’t over yet. I’m wondering if I have enough St. John’s Wort to last me. Probably not.
Life can turn on a dime, to coin a phrase (pun intended) and you never think any of that crappy stuff is going to hit your door and muck up your plans - but it does. And usually just when you think things are looking pretty okay.
I don’t particularly want to ruminate or lament about things - but I do want to say that life is short, sometimes much shorter than you think it’s going to be - so my friends, don’t sweat the small stuff and enjoy everything there is to enjoy in your lives while it’s here - while you have it.
If you’ve had a fight, make up with them, forgive them or get them to forgive you. A flat tire is just a flat tire. You can buy a new one pretty much anywhere. Blog stats, comments mean nothing if someone you love is in trouble. Give your dog an extra doggie treat, play with your kids, hug your mom, tell everyone you love that you love them. Go on the big roller coaster, drive too fast, let the wind mess up your hair, eat the chocolate or the fresh baked bread, the hell with the calories. Write with your heart, read with passion, appreciate the efforts of others. Be there for your friends, be there for yourself. Grab it all while the grabbing is good.
I love you all and thank you for being here, I’m here for you too, only an email away.
Is Virtual Reality – Reality?
Posted on August 7, 2008 - Filed Under Deep thoughts, Family, adventure, friends, life metaphor
I know this is somewhat of a cliché question – we all write about it. The differences between ‘real’ life and virtual life. How people can pretend to be anything or anyone that they want on the Internet essentially with impunity and get away with the most outrageous things sometimes. And of course I am not talking about spamming people’s email boxes with viagra ads. I’m talking about some pretty serious and nasty stuff. Child porn, abductions, identity theft and so on and so forth ad nauseum. But I want to take a little further spin around this block beyond the usual path that is traveled with this line of thinking.
I want to talk about love. LOL – gee that sounds like the beginning of disco song or something. Now before you start getting glazed eyes at the prospect of my doing a post about EHarmony or something hear me out for minute.
Long before there were computers, the internet, television, radio, telephones and any immediate type of communication medium, there were letters. As was the custom many moons ago, people wrote letters to one another, long letters, meaningful letters, letters that told of their secrets, their dreams, their hearts and sometimes the farming news and the condition of Aunt Marion’s bunions. It was also often the case that men and women fell in love through the medium of letters – Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Robert Browning are a well known and famous example of such a love affair. During their 20 month courtship they exchanged nearly 600 letters. And if you have ever had the pleasure and joy of reading any of these letters you will discover that in fact it is possible to first find your way to love through words. And if you have not read any of these letters, do yourself a favor and read some of them. It will restore your belief in the human heart and in love.
So, tracking up the 21st century – or whatever century we’re in because last I heard there was some debate about it and I can’t be too bothered with it – the letter, has been replaced with the email (essentially). Though often emails are more like grocery lists and jotted scribbles across kitchen pads and are used as a quick efficient modern shorthand to get some basic ideas across, they too are letters. I don’t know about you but I have been known to write some very long emails and had some very long emails returned to me. I have had what I can only describe as a ‘saga’ between myself and some others where the exchange of emails numbered up to 100 over the course of a week. So strong and intense was the need to deliver and receive the ideas and concepts being discussed. For me, communication is communication. The fact that someone cannot see me nor hear my voice does not mean nor make my communication false or insincere. Or that of anyone else.
Bloggers may in particular understand this because eventually you become a part of a sort neighborhood, where you find like minded individuals who share interests, worries, troubles and joys in common through the mutual reading of the blogs. This often begins friendships and emails, chats and sometimes even phone calls ensue. In my case I can say that I have found two lifelong friends all because of the internet and email and online activities. But they are actually more than friends, I truly think of them as family. How this began and how it continued and why it even came about I guess is irrelevent but these two people are no less unbelievably and undeniably loved friends than they would be if we had grown up next door to each other. Phone calls, gifts, birthday cards, care packages, emails all have been exchanged and frequently and regularly and they are part of the paradigm of my life. I honestly cannot imagine my life without them in it. And one of them lives on the other side of the world, literally.
So the question then is how does this happen? How can you come to love someone you have never met as though they were your family? As though you grew up in the same house with them or worked at the desk next to them for the last twenty years. I’m not sure I know the answer but I will give a guess. I think that as human beings regardless of the environment we find ourselves in we give off clues of who we are, what we think, what we like, dislike, are afraid of, hope for and that can actually be perceived by another human if the connection is strong enough and the desire exists.
I have to laugh when I hear people say (write) that they are nothing like they seem on their blogs or on the internet, etc. etc. because of course they must be because they created whatever presence they are in that medium, whether they write about diaper bargains or heartfelt memoirs. A piece of them is there for anyone who has an eye to see it. Not all of them of course, but certainly some part, I don’t see how it could possibly be otherwise.
And it is also human nature to be drawn to anything kindred, in whatever form a person finds it. That they find it online, thanks to some whacky exchange of energy and wavelengths seems to me, irrelevent. Things do happen for a reason. People do cross paths for a reason – the how and where I think is secondary to the reason. So, while there are one million and one reasons to be cautious about meeting people online, becoming friends or even perhaps more – and rightfully so – there are also reasons to remember that the written word has been the medium for companionship, friendship and even love for longer than any of us have been on this earth and so to stay open to the possibility of that I think is worth the risk of being tricked, disappointed or just flat out wrong. You never know, you could end up with two lifelong friends and maybe more.
The Blessings and Traps of Motherhood - by cA Hughes
Posted on August 3, 2008 - Filed Under Current Events, Deep thoughts, Family, Opinions
Hi, I am christine of All the Elbows and Annie asked me to do a guest post for her and I thought this would be an interesting topic:
I am not a fan of Britney Spears. The few times I’ve heard her “music” I felt like committing suicide on my ears. And generally speaking, I am not a fan of celebrity, its gossip and so on. But I can’t help knowing some of it. Cruising the internets is a guarantee to come across a headline or twenty. Also there are those who are into it that I talk to, who will share their knowledge of the famous with me. The place in my brain where something meaningful should probably be, like the square root of a large number, the birthday of someone important or the secret to life, is the news of Kevin Federline being awarded custody of the sons he fathered with “pop tart” Britney Spears. (My understanding of quantum physics should be where pop tart is, damn its!)
What I noticed right away when I saw the headline is that even though Spears has had the required and pandemic makeover and looks “good” again, several stories covering this court decision had an old or utterly unflattering image of her accompanying the article. I was struck by this tactic and it got me thinking about Mothers, Motherhood, Womanhood and how women, though moving forward outwardly and economically and sexually, are still held to the archaic standard of what women should be as Mothers in the eyes of our society.
The fact that a Mother loses or relinquishes custody of her kids is, apparently, unforgivable, a mystery . As a Mother, a Woman is expected to provide, or oversee, the primary care of children in the home, and anything other than that is perplexing, disdainful, bringing harsh judgement and outrage. Even I question such a Mother- How could she? What kind of woman doesn’t want her kids?
Fathers do it all the time. Fathers can still be good Men and good Fathers even if they only have limited custody of their children, weekend visits and holidays.
Look at the following image:
Britney Spears looks, well, not her best. A little sloppy for a Woman trying to get custody of her sons. Now I’m sure this is not how she looked on the day the case was settled, she has been made-over, I wouldn’t know for sure, but I think that such trickery does damage to our ideas of Women as Mothers and reinforces the idea that Mothers as secondary or peripheral caregivers are ugly, sloppy, unworthy.
See how Kevin Federline, who was given primary custody, is shown as dapper, in a suit…
I am a mother. I love my children very much and I enjoy being their mom, but there is no other job/position/calling under such strict scrutiny while also being gravely undervalued as a most important role in our society. For those who chose and are able to remain home with children, it is a blessing to a family, the children and eventually our society. Yet, for these same Women, there is the idea of being uninteresting as individuals, people. It seems that on some deep level, they are regarded as Mothers instead of individuals- like these two concepts are mutually exclusive. Because Mothers are supposed to be completely fulfilled as people by mothering rather than mothering being part of what fulfills them. Suddenly, they are defined solely by their care of the children/family rather than their wit, humor, intelligence outside of how these are applied to their Mothering.
Fathers also play an integral role in the raising of well-adjusted children, but somehow are given more slack in how involved they are in the time, emotion and energy spent in the process.
My question is why? Why are Mothers held to this rigid standard? Why are they judged much more harshly for being the visiting parent when custody situations like this occur? Are stay-at-home Dads held to this same standard? (I think they get it worse. It’s almost automatic to assume that the Man is “lazy” because only a lazy man’d want to stay at home and do nothing all day like us Women…) What do you think?
(thanks, christine - I loved this and think my readers will too.)
My Son Is Seeing The Light! - Guest Post by Joan Harvest
Posted on August 2, 2008 - Filed Under Family, Humor, dumbasses, hope, my opinions
Hey, I’m Joan Harvest from “Whatever I Think.” Annie asked me to do a guest post for her and I was honored and thrilled. This is my second guest post here. The first time was a little different. Annie offered me the use of her blog so I could write about my son who is a heroin/crack addict. I had never wanted to write about him on my own blog for one reason: he reads my blog on occasion and I didn’t exactly have permission to write about him but I really needed to.
My dilemma was what to write about as a guest bloggelist this time: another depressing story about my son? or maybe continue on with my saga about dumbasses? or maybe incorporate the two? I even carry around a video camera looking for them(dumbasses) and their antics though I have yet to actually catch any on video. It’s like stalking Bigfoot. He’s never around for a photo op. But have no fear, I will be interviewing my wasband soon so that will take care of that.
I just can’t seem to get myself to stop posting about dumbasses. They are everywhere, around every corner, on every highway, in every parking lot. You can’t get away from them especially if you look in the mirror. I don’t always see a dumbass in the mirror but sometimes I do. Just goes to show you there is a little dumbassness in each of us.
I didn’t exactly want to come right out and call my son a dumbass. I am his mother and have never called him names. Even when he was little I always said to him that he had done a bad thing but I never called him bad. I called him other names when he was little like “alien piggy”, “buzzard breath”, “Damundo”, and countless others but they were all in fun.
He stayed away from heroin for 3 1/2 years and I found out he started using again recently. He admitted it to both me and his girlfriend. Heroin is an opiate like percocet, vicoden, demerol and oxycontin . So now he has bought suboxone off the streets. Suboxone is used by doctors to help addicts get off opiates. It is an opiate in itself but doesn’t get you high. It takes away the craving for opiates and the withdrawal symptoms. It can also be misused if you take enough of it. His girlfriend is doling it out to him in small amounts and he’s weaning off of it. They are in Alaska right now in Denali State park camping out. She got him out of Buffalo and away from the drug dealers. She’s no dumbass.
He called me last night at 1:45 AM in the morning. As soon as I saw his name on caller ID I almost didn’t answer the phone. I’m always afraid it’s going to be one of the bad calls. But again I am his mom and felt an obligation and a need to know. I answered the phone and now I am going to do some thing I have never done before. I am going to call my own flesh and blood, my only son, my sweet pea, a freakin’ dumbass. He forgot there was a four hour time difference and he wanted to tell me how they went white water rafting and how much fun it was. He wanted to tell me about the grizzly bears and wolves they saw.
I was relieved to hear he wasn’t in some alley dead of an overdose (a fear I live with) and I actually sat and listened to his stories. He sounded so happy. He sounded like the Damon I love and cherish and not the Damon wasted on drugs. I didn’t really want to hear about the grizzly bears because now I have it in my head that grizzly bears will be converging on him en masse but of course I patiently listened. I am his mom. I imagined every grizzly bear in Alaska looking for him.
But last night’s call left me with hope. The hope that my son will someday find his way in this life. They are in Alaska with not much money and a tent. But they are happy. I always sleep better knowing my son is happy.
The photo is actually of my son seeing the light, hopefully, one day.
(Joanie, I hope that day is soon. Thanks for this - hugs & jugs)
Laundry - Theme Fridays
Posted on August 1, 2008 - Filed Under Family, adventure, theme fridays
The laundry hung on the line - flapped and snapped with the wind’s mood. Mary loved the smell of sunshine in her sheets and was convinced it made her dream of summer. Her little dog, Spike, a fearless terrier of questionable lineage, barked as the sheets tried to catch him. He growled fiercely at their attempts to ambush and tangle him.
“Shoo, Spike,” Mary waved the mutt off to protect her sheets. Particularly the oldens as she called them. Fragile, beautiful and made of linen and tatted lace and brought from Ireland by her great grandmother, Lil. So delicate and worn were they that Mary lovingly washed them in the tub with a drop of castille soap and a squeeze of lemon juice.
Mary only used these sheets when she was lonely and aching for family. Tom, was the love of her life and so she had traveled thousands of miles to be with him. To marry him and to make her life with him. Her family was distressed by Mary’s departure and warned of the isolation that would descend upon Mary once gone. But love knew no boundaries and Mary never regretted her decision to let love win out.
Still, a tear slid down Mary’s cheek as she caressed the sheet and she lay her face against it to feel the embrace of her faraway family. And she dreamed herself to the big kitchen table back there - for a laugh and a coffee.
“Hello, love,” Tom said, suddenly there and smiling great affection.
Mary’s eyes took in his beauty like a big gulping swig of joy. So tan, with a flash of white teeth and searing blue eyes - so able to wobble her knees with a wink. Mary flushed at being caught hugging her sheets and gave her true love a sheepish grin. “Caught again,” she giggled. “Hello, my darling,” and she traded her embrace with sheets for the man’s arms who gave her life meaning.
To see what laundry hangs on Jess’s line, go here. To see Christine’s laundry day adventures, go here.
Miracles Do Happen!
Posted on July 21, 2008 - Filed Under Family, Touchstones, brave women, friends, hope, my heart, wishes
Some of you may know that this past May, a very close friend of mine was in a really bad car accident. So bad in fact, that I wasn’t sure she was going to live. To say this turned my world upside down puts it mildly, the last time I was this grief stricken was the day my father died, if that puts it in perspective. Kelly is one of those really special people who lights up a room whenever she enters. She is kind, caring, funny and will do anything for anybody.
Not long after the accident, I flew to Seattle to help in whatever way I could and to join the literally hundreds of other people who knew and loved Kelly in a massive prayer chain to bring her through this catastrophe and give her back to us. It was a very rough week for me and I was in no way prepared to see what had happened to her and to realize how very little I could do for her. Much of the time I spent just trying not to cry and to keep her gorgeous girls occupied. Really, it was in God’s hands and all we could do was pray and send her our love and hope for the best. There wasn’t much sleeping or laughing going on but there was a lot of love and a sort of instant kindredness among all us. Lots of hugs and tears and smiles and hand squeezes. We all wanted the same thing - for our Kelly to get well and weather the storm.
The day I returned to L.A. from Seattle I discovered Kelly said her first words. And fittingly they were to her mother, Charlene. She said, ‘thank you’ when she saw Charlene straightening up her hospital room. Somewhat startled Charlene went to Kelly’s bedside and and looked closely at her daughter and said, “Do you know who I am?”
Kelly said, “yes.”
Charlene asked. “Who am I?”
Kelly said, “Mom.”
And that was the beginning of the miracle. Not only had she lived through a 60 mph impact into her standing still car, she spoke and she remembered her mother. Over the ensuing weeks, I read her brother’s email updates on her progress and it was amazing, lesser men would have died. But Kelly with the spirit of a team of Clydesdales pushed through to each next level with flying colors. Still, I have to admit, I was worried and wondered how much of her memory she had lost. If she had sustained any serious or long term brain damage. If she would be Kelly again. I knew while I was there she didn’t know me. In fact, I’m not sure she has any memory of that week at all. I worried (selfishly) that maybe she would never remember me and we would have to find our way to friendship in a new chapter.
I worried too about her young daughters, her brothers, her parents, her husband - if they too would get their Kelly back.
Today, my prayers were answered. I called her mother to get an update and to see where I could send cards and such to Kelly (since she’s been constantly been transferring to new facilities) and Charlene told me that Kelly now has a cell phone that she is talking to friends on. Charlene gave me the number and of course I called it immediately. Unfortunately, I got the voice mail and left a message.
For hours afterwards, every time the phone rang, I jumped and grabbed it, hoping to hear her voice. When I finally gave up the hope that I’d hear from her, she called. When she said my name I started to cry from pure joy. It was my Kelly. It was really her. The relief and gratitude I felt I simply can’t describe. We talked on the phone for nearly an hour and it was just as though nothing had happened. I have my friend back. I didn’t lose her after all. And I’m so glad because I just couldn’t have imagined life without her.
So thank you, a million times to all of you who prayed for her, hoped for her and her family. Who sent out your love to a stranger, only because I asked you to. Your prayers have worked and have helped to create this wonderful miracle.
Car Keys - Theme Fridays
Posted on July 18, 2008 - Filed Under Family, ghosts, memories, theme fridays
Lucky had a key ring, big and jangly. Car keys, house keys, padlock keys, work keys, mysterious keys that unlocked secret things. It hooked to his back belt loop and danced and sang whenever he jaunted about. Looking down at the big, black shoes with the round toes, the cuffed dungarees and white socks. And they hypnotised me, my eyes compelled to follow their big bouncey steps. Always, I wanted to reach out and grab them, like a stranger playing hide and seek, they called to me, promising a prize if I could catch them.
Patsy’s keys didn’t jangle, nor were they on display but were rather a dainty little thing she tucked in her purse with kleenix and gumballs, a small leather wallet and a pink rat-tail comb. I never watched those keys, maybe because they were hidden and did nothing to tease my eyes or my mind. They held no magic or intrigue because they were so normal.
I longed to have keys like Lucky’s to have the power that they would avail me. Loud and big – jaunty and strong. I wonder now, if each of those keys had a place that they fit into or if many of them were gone but Lucky couldn’t let go of the keys to the missing locks. He didn’t like to throw things away. He was a keeper. He kept things and fixed things and made things that were dead to other people come back to life.
Always in his workshop (which everyone else called the garage) with his salvaged refrigerator, radios and televisions. Cleaning tools, steel wooling the rust off, whetting the blades. Tinkering with old cars and castoffs. The doctor of unloved things, always able to cure their ills and give them a new home and a place in his life. He was just that way.
Even now, I wonder about those keys and where they got to and all the secret place they unlocked. I see there dull metal brightness and hear their song stiIl.
I’m afraid Jess won’t be joining us this week, because somebody got those car keys away from here. ;) However Christine’s car keys are janglin still, so please, go here to hear their song.
