February 14, 2014
He loved me. I knew that my father loved me. When I was 4 years old, he bought me an 18 carat gold and ruby watch. The rubies were beautiful and shiny. “It’s for later, for when you grow up,” he told me. My father had had a hard life; now things were good and prosperous for him. The watch must have symbolized being able to do something for me while he could. No one ever knew when things would turn the other way.Many years later, I lost that watch. Someone took it from me. My love for my father is in my heart, unchanged.
February 13, 2014
The Unsettled Feeling
Nowhere—she called it that. This is nowhere. It’s the feeling of not belonging, not being anywhere, not for long, not really. She carries it—it’s in her face, her clothes; her eyes. It is a curse.
February 10, 2014
He was crazy about it. The country had long fascinated him. Everything about it—the music, movies, the books—held a special appeal for him. When The Beatles went on The Ed Sullivan Show in February of 1964, he applauded as the girls in the audience screamed and squealed. His face lit up like a little boy’s. America. That sort of thing happened to you when you went toAmerica. You got fame and women. America was the promise of a new home, a new beginning.
February 8, 2014
It was there, your chocolate brown body on the hard and cold pavement. Someone must have petted you, caressed you once, yesterday or the day before. I bent down to touch you. Stiff—you couldn’t feel anymore. Was that how it had happened? Had you climbed over a wall to play and instead death met up with you? I’ll never know. I petted you. Goodbye little animal.
January 27, 2014
Home is a place where I can boil water and make myself a cup of tea when I want to, at the hour that I choose. Home is a room (or rooms) for me to be me. I miss that—all of that. It’s been a long time since I felt I belonged somewhere.
January 27, 2014
He looks like you, enough like you to make follow him. I want to be close, close to the memory of you, close to what once was the two of us. My legs don’t run as fast as they should—not anymore. I almost lose sight of the other you. I find him again. I am happy.
January 13, 2014
The Woman and the Old Dog
She loved him. Simply put, he made her happy. They did not have to spend a lot of time together. He was there, around the place, doing what dogs do. He was not much to look at—a now – thin black dog with white hair around the mouth area. The dog’s brown eyes were beautiful, brown and alert, eyes that knew how to talk. His eyes made her smile. Whatever it was that he wanted, she wanted to give him.
January 9, 2014
7 (The Dead Lion)
It was a hot January afternoon. Someone told me to let him go. She had looked into his eyes—there was no light in them anymore. It’s no good, she said. Another person came to see him. They played for a while and then the man left. He called me from the pay phone downstairs. “He’s got to be let out of his misery. Please do it.”
That night I gave my dog his last meal—a big steak, potatoes and vegetables. He ate as if he had never seen food before. He couldn’t sleep; I couldn’t either. I wanted him with me always, my big strong German shepherd. He was my friend, my protector. He’s in Heaven.
January 8, 2014
Look up! There is a home for you, just like that one with all the lights turned on. It’s near the bridge. I see people inside. A man is standing by the window and a woman is touching his arm. They seem so happy and contented! You should have that feeling too. No more suitcases, no more bouncing aroung from place to place. No more of that sense of urgency and despair.
December 20, 2013
These are my home. These boxes; all piled up in somebody else’s garage, somebody else’s home. The boxes are my real life. On the outside, it has been a hard, rough and stressed out life that I would not have chosen for myself. I love all my stuff—my belongings, the ones I’ve collected with such love over the years, ever since my childhood. I look at them—at my books, my fine imported china and my old paintings. They are spiritual home, a place no one can see. And they have nowhere to go, nowhere to hide from the world and rest.