Archive for March, 2016

The Week

March 30, 2016

The Week

Was it yesterday? Was it last week or did it happen long ago? Reality tells me that you went away in the 1990s; my heart doesn’t believe that. My heart says that it was recently, just a short time ago. I see your face. I understand your eyes and what you wanted to tell me when you looked at me. I wasn’t quite sure then. I didn’t know and I am so sorry. You thought you were not important to me or not important enough. I cared. I cared for you and yours. Wherever you are in Heaven, please wait for me.

 

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Rolling

March 29, 2016

Rolling

Rolling along—the big, overstuffed suitcase is pushed around. Someone’s knee is often used to kick it. One baggage handler pushes it, then another. A third baggage handler takes it, puts it down. “This one is heavy”, he says as he walks away. Someone else picks it up. He looks at it and shakes his head. “I wonder who this belongs to. Whoever it is must realize it’s a burden.” The man puts it in the lost and found dept. “All the trips this suitcase must have taken. Maybe it was one trip too many.”

 

The Loss

March 22, 2016

The Loss

I feel it after all these years. How many years has it been already? 7—I have lived over 7 years without you. I never meant for it to happen. You were without me and I was without you during your final days. What possessed me to think that we’d be together again and that we’d walk streets similar to the ones you loved? Dear little one, we had the same feelings about things and nothing that anybody could ever say would have changed us. You and I liked the best, the finest. We loved the blocks with the green lawns in front and the trees and the well-kept gardens. We admired the homes of the better neighborhoods and when we walked by a particularly beautiful house, I could say to you: Don’t you wish we could live here? I talked to you as if you were a person. Your eyes answered me. We kept on walking.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Dog

March 19, 2016

The Dog

I love that dog. I miss my aristocratic dog. He understood me; he did not judge or criticize. The last time we walked together was over 8 years ago. We had many walks in the best neighborhoods of the city. My dog was familiar with all of them. I miss his eyes and the light in them when he looked at me. I can still see his smile. I want him back. He’s dead.

 

 

 

 

 

Strawberries for Him

March 8, 2016

Strawberries

The young woman put the small basket near the edge of the kitchen table. She let him smell the pieces of fruit. “Take one, my dear,” she said. “You are Big enough for a lion.” His tail wagged; he opened his mouth wide and swallowed the strawberry.  The dog smiled. “Here is a bigger one. I think you are more than capable of handling this one. ” The young woman put a second strawberry in his mouth. After he had eaten it, he looked at her. She patted him on the head. The dog smiled again. “No more for now. Let’s go to the garden and play.” He followed her outside.

 

 

The Chianti Bottle

March 4, 2016

Chianti Bottle

My father—my father was one of my heroes.  When he came home for lunch (almost always a late lunch at 4 in the afternoon), he would have his meal with a glass or 2 of Chianti wine. I see the bottle of Chianti, the old fashioned bottle, in its straw-like basket on top of the white tablecloth. The white glass with the red liquid was by his plate. I sat next to him and we would talk. That was the only time during the day I got to be with him. My father worked long hard, often 12 or 14 hours per day. I didn’t need to eat my own lunch. Being with him was enough.