My coffee machine died this morning. I suppose nearly ten years – five years beyond warranty – is a pretty good deal. So here I sit with freeze dried coffee, wet hair and the wind hitting the windowpane.
A dried leaf falls from the cut roses on my desk, like a deliberate grab for attention. They really need to be put in the compost.
And I stare at this screen.
“Nice Cinderella, Good Cinderella,” is an ear-worm that I can’t shake this morning. Since we’ve been watching Into the Woods this week in class, it isn’t surprising, but it it still feels random. Shouldn’t ear-worms have some kind of significance? Some kind of hidden message? “Nevermind Cinderella, Kind Cinderella.”
The Raggedy-Ann doll
on the book shelf was a gift –
it replaced a lost doll
I mentioned to a friend
– a comforting keepsake
– a token of care
arrived in the mailbox: this
thing at the center
between her hands and mine
amidst a history of loss
I feel wrong? when I don’t write. Including here, right here.
And. Been looking also at loss/giving-away. All that stuff I think I own, but don’t. Harder to learn – better letting-go than to keep.
Your child-you delights. Poem & quote too. Me less wise, but here…
“Vulnerable and alive, we bring our human lives before the unknown path and ask the heart to light the way.” (Street art found on Aliston St. in Berkeley, California)
feels wrong to be here without you, Neil. <3