Archive for March, 2013

The New Pope

March 14, 2013

I cried—I cried hard this afternoon. I cried, for me, for Argentina and for the love I once had for a priest. The new Pope has been elected and he is the archbishop of Buenos Aires. Jorge Mario Bergoglio will be named Francis the First. Something as big as this—the first South American Pope ever—is really great news!

The new Pope is supposed to be in favor of change. The Catholic Church is in such a need of change—starting with the horrible Celibacy Rule. That concerned me—the innocent young woman that I was when I met the priest/man I fell in love with. Maybe the Celibacy Rule wasn’t totally responsible for me not being able to marry the man I loved, but it had a lot to do with it. I would have loved being a priest’s wife and possibly his helper. It would have been another dream come true.


Black Or Tan

March 12, 2013

Makes no difference. It doesn’t make any difference at all. The dog can be black or tan. He or she can be young or old or in between. My real dog, the one I had is gone. Others are alive and I see my dead gone in them. I can’t help it. I see and my heart remembers. I am back there with the walks, the often super long walks, the good times and the not so good times.


March 5, 2013

Dark brown suede boots lined with sheepskin fur. A dark blue fleece top. An old black leather Guess brand jacket, black jeans ripped near the left knee. The jeans are a reminder of a recent injury. This is the outfit and it’s not right. It’s not right at all. It’s what she wore somewhere else, where the winter months are cold and hostile. There is sunshine here, plenty of sun, mixed with wind. She walks on the side of the road and people stare. This woman is not local.

Bags and Tears

March 5, 2013

Bags—heavy shopping bags full of groceries. She was carrying them on the sidewalk side of the street. She thought of that—that thing that had been there yesterday, just yesterday and was no more. It had been suspended and she wanted it back. Until she lost it she had no idea how much it meant to her. She had enjoyed every minute of it—the joy, the uncertainty, the not knowing what would happen when she and her friend turned the corner or reached the other side of the street. She even liked his pulling when he smelled something delicious. Cars rushed by her. She swallowed and looked at the green grass. I don’t know why it’s gone. It was my new goal. It made me smile.