Sunday, September 6, 2015

Bird's Back West

Head East down Atlantic
(towards the sea), you will pass
13, 14, 15, and then 16 pause:
3 units, top to bottom,
two couples, two babies
and three (sometimes four)
single girls making too much noise
on the second floor: laughing and cooking
and crying and cleaning.

You know, it's funny: when I
remember the space at Atlantic
I picture one small bean
and one tall bean, suffering through
the cold trials of new
adulthood with you
in an apartment in Beverly, Ma.

One rides a bike, strong
and without fear, over the water
into Salem beginning her day with cookies,
soups, vegetables and pre-made entrees.
The smaller bean is waking up,
taking a walk through the living room
to start with coffee and a few lines
of truth - scooting off soon
to the grocer in the next town over,
and starting on those cookies
and soups and pre-made entrees.

And now there you are:
writing it all down in a warehouse
coffee shop far away
in Colorado, feeling the loss of it all -
without regret, but full of understanding

because you cried too much
and too often

because you could not begin
to understand just what it all meant
at the time

because it seemed like you
were destined to start drinking
coffee in the morning
and a cappuccino later in the day

because you moved away
from dirt on your hands

because you just didn't know.

I am heading East on Atlantic.
I will stop at 16 and be glad
for you - the ocean and the trees
and the streets of Beverly are all
glad for you.

Friday, January 9, 2015

Do you want to see how the light's changed?

This is the first week back from holiday jaunts and travels to California and back, to Annapolis and back again, and the winter blues are creeping and threatening already. Home was wonderful (but isn't it always?). My little sister, Emma, and I have not been in the same place since last Christmas - a whole year apart and with no sister snuggles makes for a hard year indeed. Together, we welcomed baby Evangeline to the world and to our family and had lots of chill time. Too short, indeed. I had a few days back in beverly before driving down to Annapolis to welcome in the new year with my love. Hou and I spent the weekend bird watching, coffee drinking, and playing lots of games. Both trips made it hard to say goodbye. I am not ready to start this year here, far away from Mom and Dad,  sisters and brother, from Houston, and in this below-sero weather nonetheless. SO: this morning I've chosen to stay in my pajamas 'til the afternoon, write letters to my adventurous friends, consider the snow, and pray hard about the seasons to come. I am not re-starting this blog because I am starting on a new adventure, or opening a new chapter. Right now there's not a lot of newness in my life at all, just cold and snow and my thoughts. So here's to documenting small moments, sharing small victories, and reveling in small joys. Happy New Year, y'all!