Thursday, March 27, 2014

Generations - Conclusion

My car and many more cars went through multitude revolutions as my hair grayed and grandchildren came along. I transferred to the back seat and watched the trees change from lush to colorful to bare to snow-laden to lush again. 

A rumor of a morning hung out there, behind the dull shroud. A mist rose from the lake to merge into the veil.  Patches of light emerged in the midst of darkness while a scythe of a moon lingered, overstaying its welcome. Birds blindly floated from branch to branch, guiding their path through song.  A gust flew in, steering the clouds away, parting the curtain for the spot light of the morning, allowing the show to begin. 
We pull into a space in a large parking lot and I unfasten my seat restraint.  The door wouldn’t open from the inside, child safety lock still in place.  My daughter steps out of her driving seat and holds my door ajar.  My feet touch the hard concrete and she helps me pull my large behind up. I take the cane she hands me and steady my stance on the firm surface.  My three legs move forward with my daughter beside me, holding my hand, matching my pace. 

The building that welcomes us is large with an automatic sliding door.  We step into a grand entryway with a large foyer and a reception desk on one side.  A young man greets us and invites us to check in at his desk.  We take our seats facing him, my cane leaning against his desk in one corner.  My daughter lets go of my hand to pick up a pen and sign the papers presented to her.  My hand feels empty, cold, abandoned.  I lean in to decipher the words on the paper, but my eyes betray me.  All I see is little black ants crawling up the page, moving in circles, down a line in single file.  I bring my abandoned hand to a pen on the desk and begin to fiddle with the instrument.  Click click. Click click.  The young man and my daughter glance up at me and then at the pen.  I’m at a loss as to what’s bothering them?  I don’t hear any irritating sounds.
Paperwork finally completed, we rise.  The two young people fuss about me, handing me my cane, pulling out the chair, holding my arm so I can rise up and steady myself.  We follow the young man across the foyer through a hallway.  As we reach the end, I hear a cacophony of sounds as if a cocktail party is in session.  A door swings open and we walk into a large hall.  There are people everywhere, standing, walking, sitting on a sofa absorbed in a book, sitting around several tables in midst of various games. I notice women in wheelchairs, men with hearing aids, people with IV’s or oxygen tank next to their seat. Some hold cards in their hand, others make much noise at the mahjong table. A group of men and women are sitting in a corner by the fireplace, absorbed in a deep discussion, each holding a book in their hands.
I turn to my daughter, look in her eyes and nod.  She smiles, kisses my forehead, gives me a hug and promises to return in a few hours.

The End

Friday, March 21, 2014

Generations - Part One

I felt the hard concrete under my feet as I stepped out of my car.  In the back seat my 3-year old had already unbuckled her car-seat restraint and was attempting to open the door.  The child safety locks kept her safely in, until I opened the door. She hopped out with both feet firmly on the ground.  We stood together, side by side looking at the small building in front of us.  I searched for the entrance and spotted a small path leading up to the side of the structure.  I felt tiny fingers curl around my hand and we followed our footsteps towards a new beginning.

The double doors were glass and heavy and I managed to get my petite child through them without crushing any fingers or toes.  A tall desk greeted us with a smiling face behind it.  I stood tall and peered over the top of the desk for introductions and related the purpose of our visit. Kind eyes looked at me with confusion.  No new child was expected that day and the owner had not arrived yet.  I explained that I had spoken with the owner and was asked to bring my child at the hour that the large clock behind her chimed.  The kind eyes nodded and disappeared into a classroom with promise to return with an answer.
My daughter stood straight beside me, staring at the wooden wall of the tall desk flat in front of her.  I went on my tip-toes and tried to look over to the other side of the desk, as if bobbing my head above water as my body and my child lay submerged. My hand fidgeted in my purse for my planner to confirm the appointment date as my feet shuffled to find a footing. I felt cool fingers on my arm and looked down at the innocent face.  My young child stood calm in her blue, stone-washed cotton shorts with matching t-shirt, white socks folded down to her ankles securing her tiny feet in denim shoes.
I attempted a smile and let her hold my hand.  The second and then minute hands ticked away as the delicate grasp in my hand became tighter and sweaty.  I stroked her soft hair and squeezed her hand gently.
The kind woman returned and reiterated that no one was aware of a new child starting.  However, Miss Katie’s class can accommodate and I can guide my daughter towards the classroom.  We turned, hand in hand taking tentative steps towards the classroom.  Cacophony of little people voices vibrated out into the hallway through the open door.  My little girl tightened her grip on my finger and stopped mid-step.  I looked down into her dark eyes with a fan of long lashes.  She tilted her head up towards me and declared, “I…I will no cry.”
I smiled with quivering lips and allowed her to lead me to her new class. After planting a kiss on her forehead and a big wave, I turned and let the deluge flow.  The kind voice from the front desk and apologetic voice of the owner echoed around me.  I nodded, smiled and waved to them, promising to return in a few hours.

To be continued…

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Sounds of Silence

Silence rips through the fabric of my time
deafening my ear drums into loud hums
It slices across the room of this old house
to dissect or to rouse old demons.

Then a whisper floats, through a window hole
It comes in a howl whipping up all that is fowl,
Other sounds creep in, tentative and slow at first.

A wall clock ticks away through its revolutions,
As I ponder at this evolution,

Sliding the window up a crack, I let more sounds creep in
The angry wind lashes at me, I persevere and let it seep in

At long last the crisp dies down
I feel the breeze ruffle all around

Cardinal and blue jays sing their spring songs
Sparrows and wrens chirp and sing along

They interrupt the silence as it breathes its last breath
Silence is silenced to its own death

Rumble descends from the sky as a super jet flies by
Piercing whistle screeches in with intermittent tracks clammerin’
Unseen dogs bark in an abyss behind dark, high fences

I crank up the sound system allowing more music to flow
Simon and Garfunkel spew, Sounds of Silence, I find myself renewed
My companion in ups and downs, forever we will be bound
Music I listen to most is the serene, silent sound.