Archive for January, 2018

Always

January 30, 2018

Always

My darling, I am always with you. Wherever you are, wherever you go, there I am. Even if I haven’t seen you in many years, even if I know nothing about you, about your life, I am inside you.  I have cared for you for so long, I have wanted you. I cherish what we had—what we will always have. There is no power on Earth that can make me forget you. Nothing stands in the way of my genuine affection. My heart will always take care of you. It will protect you forever. It is the shield against danger that you need.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Not

January 27, 2018

It is not. It is not enough. It can never be enough. The need for self expression, my self expression, is not recognized. It is not acknowledged or seen or taken into account. It is invisible, the words I write are invisible, with the audience for them non existent.

My Obscure published Novel

January 25, 2018

Heart and Soul

It is my heart. It is my soul, my best and truest soul. Every word, every sentence in it has my dreams, my hopes, my inner being. It is me. It is the person that I was. It is the naïve and believing young woman of years long gone. It is the young woman that life had not made hard and often bitter. My heart and soul are in an obscure novel, a published novel no one has ever heard of. Its title is Different Flags. The place and the two people that I loved and have never forgotten are in that book. They will always live even though they are no longer alive.

 

 

Many Things

January 21, 2018

Many Things
I have done many things. I have been to many places, seen things I wished I hadn’t and things I wish I could have kept forever. I have been good but I also have been normal. I am flesh and blood; I feel deeply. That has often been my downfall. I care and when I care I care too much. I want to keep those I love forever. It isn’t often possible and when they’re gone, I can’t understand why. I don’t know where to turn, who to seek. My heart wanders in the deep snow of a New York winter. I am done when I cry. I fall apart.

The Tea

January 14, 2018

The Tea

By the kitchen counter—she sits next to the kitchen counter. It is warm there. The steaming cup of tea helps her forget the wind outside and the cold numbing her not young anymore hands. It is one of the best times she’s ever had—with a book, her animal companions and the tea. Harsh life is gone for a few minutes; pinching pennies and not having enough money—none of that exists. The tea works its magic. She is a young and lovely woman again. She is her real self.

 

Your Strawberries

January 10, 2018

Strawberries

I remember everything about that morning—the morning of your death. You loved strawberries but I couldn’t give you any. You used to look up at me when I ate strawberries and you would have stolen one or two if I had let you. I remember the man taking you up and putting you on his shoulder. They had just given you something, a sedative, so you wouldn’t feel anything. I remember the man placing you beside him in the dog pound van. I followed you in a taxi because I was not allowed in the van with you and the man. The taxi driver was a rough and tumble kind of guy, not the person I could confide in. He would not have understood how unhappy I was and that losing you was the last thing I wanted. I saw you on the floor of the dog pound when they gave you first one, then 2 injections to make you die. I did not want you to die, but you were so ill! You would not have lasted much longer. You would have been an unhappy German shepherd with no working legs. Our walks would have been a thing of the past. I have never forgotten you. I can never forget you. I know you have all the strawberries you want up in Dog Heaven.

 

Don’t Know

January 10, 2018

Don’t Know

You don’t. You don’t know. It is insecurity—it is more than insecurity, more than looking up in the dark at the lights shining inside an apt. or house. It is being hurt over and over again and not knowing what will happen next. It is expecting the worst from life in spite of all the good wishes of this or that person. Homelessness—homelessness does that to a person. It rips the person apart, makes the person feel devastated and terribly alone in a snowstorm.

 

 

Last

January 8, 2018

Last

He spent his last days in a small apt. His skin had developed bed sores. He could barely move. He had difficulty lifting his head. The weather was extreme that year, with high temperatures breaking records. Someone had to go to his small space by the wooden wall and ask him if he needed anything. His eyes would look at the person. He could not even bark. That last evening he got the meal he loved most—steak, potatoes and his favorite sweet stick. He slept until they came for him. A large man wrapped him up in a huge towel and carried down to where the truck to the vet’s office was. His owner was with him until the end.

 

 

Somebody

January 8, 2018

Somebody

She had once been a great woman. People had loved her. They had respected her. Her hats and stylish outfits were copied by all the women of her acquaintance. She walked with her head held high. Her jewels came from the finest stores—Tiffany & Co., Bulgari and Cartier. She knew how to talk to people. She knew how to listen to their problems, often forgetting that she had problems of her own.

She only wore makeup because it was expected of a woman in her position. Her brown eyes, big and expressive were her best feature.  Her skin had no blemishes. She had come up the hard way, starting at the very bottom. If I can do it, she used to tell her women friends, you can too. Look at me! Look at what I got! High society men ask me out on dates.

In her later years, no one would have guessed her splendid past. The sadness in her eyes aged her by more than 10 years. She coped by staying home as much as possible. Her friends had stopped trying to reach her a long time ago. She walked her dogs twice a day; otherwise she stayed in her safety zone.

 

 

 

 

 

Dog Love

January 1, 2018

He was my dog and I loved him. I love him. He was a big guy, about 80 pounds and his fur was blond and black. He has haunted me for 11 years. There has almost not been another dog as important to me as him, my German shepherd. True to his breed, he was loyal, strong and protective. Once he was betrayed by someone but he never found out that they didn’t want him anymore. One early morning, he led me by the leash to the house. We got there at 5. Everything was still dark. Their car was parked by the curb. He bent over to sniff the tires, the doors, everything. Then he walked to the front door of the house. He stood before it,  as if expecting someone to come out and greet him. The window of the house had white curtains. He stood and tried to look inside. His nose took in the fragrance of what had once been his space, his refuge. I looked down at him. Come, baby, let’s go. They are probably on vacation. We can come back some other time. His brown eyes looked at me; he nodded. I pulled on his leash gently and we walked back to where we lived.