Vacation
My father was a blue collar guy he
worked
and with his faults he loved his
family
and oh did he love
adventure
and when we went on
vacation
it was adventure, it was the
planning
pouring over maps and
details
This would be no ordinary
trip
he attended to every detail like it was a
mission
and it was his mission of
love
Life's details beat us up
every day
they are the monsters we
create
we design even and even when we love our
life
hitting the mark can seem an uphill
battle
I had prepared the garden and dug the flower
beds
planted the seeds and by the time I had
finished
I didn't even care that the flowers
grew
I could go to the nursery and buy this
feeling
nobody would
notice
nobody had
When the 72 days started I
couldn't
find the parts of my life I
loved (and I
do)
I hadn't planned a
vacation,
even time away was
work
I was too
sick,
too caught up in what
should
be rather than what I had and what did I have I kept
asking
over and over
again
like swinging a bat
madly
hoping it would hit a ball that I couldn't even
see
my eyes too full of
disappointment
too full of
fear
that this was it, there was no
vacation
waiting
nobody was here to plan it
and I missed my
father
How do I tell you that you are
vacation?
I didn't have to plan it
you
did
You showed up and took over my
head
crowded every thought and time with you was
effortless
my sides ached and laughter knew my
lips
I fought off
sleep
what a lie, I never want to
sleep
I can sleep when I
die
I only want to sleep when I'm so
exhausted
I can't move another inch
still 15
afraid they put me to bed before the real party
starts
Vacation is the special
dress
you've put in the back of the
closet
that you just gaze at
wondering
where you'll wear it. it's the
secret
thought that
sustains
you now when people are
demanding
wanting what you don't want to give
them
(there is no them when you are
close.)
it's the respite from speaking when you don't want to utter a
word
because nobody
deserves
a word you'd spit from your lips to their ears
undeserving
I do love to
fly
the way there is so exciting something (you) to
explore
and on the way home so full of
energy
so full of renewed respect for what is
yours
and sadness for what you'll leave
abandoned
You take off and you are without
bounds
above, looking down on the earth and the
ants
so far below, so dirty in their
musings
my head full of honey and you the
ant
so full of
respect
for the power and dignity of
love
and it's complete and unexpected
arrival
As an adult Disney World seems almost
silly
A giant mouse to tell you the world is
beautiful
This is vacation after all and soon it will be
over
Like love, like passion and even like
sadness
It passes through us, over us and all around us as a
reminder
that God makes plans for us and we work through the
grind
for a few lost
hours
Work is waiting, the papers piled up, the grass is tall,
taller
and you're left with the stories and
snapshots
of a greener world, a softer day, this stolen
moment
***********************************************
My summer vacation was work and not feeling well made work, more workified. Richie is back at school and in the first week his computer blows up, great. The world feels a little wonky, but all good. The weather is changing and I am so thankful for a mild summer and a little sad it's all ending soon. The big summer bugs are singing loud and their anthem is about to be over as mother nature sacrifices them to the fall. The fall always makes me a little sad, the light ending sooner in the day only to be given soon to the frozen earth. I will miss the sounds of nature's summer in the evening as it's been cool enough to sleep with the windows open and a few nights so cool, just opened a crack. I'm not sure the roses will bloom again before the frost and today I purchased mums, three big baskets of fall flowers, not a good sign. I am so not rushing the season this year, wanting to linger in the warm sun for just a few more weeks.
Today I decided the fog was lifting and I wasn't counting days anymore. This is such a joyous thought, to let myself off the hook a little and concentrate again on work work work and a little bit of joy, taking on a painting project or two and perhaps evening a little exhale. And what a summer it was this quest for adventure. Summer always makes me feel old like the passage of time is marching across my body like the ants on the counter. I forgot that time also heals. Time lets us forget transgressions of others and even if we are lucky, ourselves. I was thinking today I wanted a new sofa, something giant, with a big camel back and huge wooden legs. The last hunt for a sofa took forever.
I don't think I will put up the tree this year for Christmas, letting myself off the hook there as well not in the mood for all that brings, perhaps age makes us a little wiser and a little grumpy. I allowed a little time for a nap in the early evening and it seemed like a gift I had shopped for myself and then given myself all wrapped in a bow. Nice. I found the little locket I lost, sort of. Sometimes my anger gets the best of me and I will throw away something I love and other times I've left a trail of retrieval. Little victories like little blessings, one at a time, patience and all. I listened to some short stories I downloaded, stories of betrayal. I liked one better than the other and will go back and listen to them again soon.
I heard from my friend John back from China. He talks about that place like I talk about missing my parents, almost sacred. It's nice to know that in this world there is still magic even if it's in a foreign far away place.Orion is reminding us it's the harvest again and I think I will look for more tomatoes soon and fresh sage and onion to make some wonderful sauce to freeze, to freeze and share. In the middle of winter I will appreciate these efforts when I open the bag to smell summer in the kitchen.
In Paris on the Boulevard Saint-Germain there is a cafe called Cafe De Flore. There you can find the most amazing crunchy bread and very salty butter. They serve this with a tea a black tea and lots of lemon and bring you a glass of ice in case in the middle you elect for iced tea. I was reminded why I love salad nicoise. The first time I had it I was with Best Friend and people we love in Milwaukee at the Museum of Art there. It snowed that day over the lake and we saw the most amazing exhibit of glass I'd ever seen and of course some Georgia O'Keefe paintings (they are famous for their collection there.) The salad was an adventure, the long french green beans, the tuna, and of course the boiled red potatoes. Then the olives, deep ripe tomatoes and crunch iceburg lettuce. It's an adventure just to eat, everything put together like a mosiac painting. I think this winter I will write a cookbook, every day switching from something savory to something full of summer, Paris and love.
If you haven't tried to write your own recipe of things you love, sounds like a good idea and I'd trade with you, delish for delish. You can always find me at Summerpoet@msn.com or my work at www.poetsummer.etsy.com.
Carrie.
No comments:
Post a Comment