On Saturday night, as B and I were eating dinner in Belltown al fresco - a highly anticipated seasonal treat in Seattle, we noticed the shift. The changing winds. The chill. What was a nearly balmy evening quickly turned frigid. I had to borrow his jacket and walk closer to him on the way home.
It's not every day you witness that moment when the atmosphere shifts. I remember once feeling it at a Summer the concerts on the pier. Everyone's basking in the sun and then, just like that, they fall into a hush as layers are unshed.
It reminded me of being in Italy for the jubilee at midnight mass. One raindrop and suddenly thousands and thousands of nuns and pilgrims opened their umbrellas.
Like a flock of birds startled into flight - wings spread in unison.
I digress.
Sunday morning we woke to dripping, dropping, droopy sky. A blanket of gray. The urban landscape swelling with oil and pollen - draining our first hint of summer into the sewers. Tires skidding. Watch your step.
I walked to go see B perform at the U District Street Fair. My music accompanying me. I was dressed for festivals with sandals and my hip pocket belt. No one else seemed to venture out but those training for big races. Sporting their high tech running clothes.
Those who venture out into the rain are richly rewarded. The city smelled like the forrest. The rain muffled most sounds, and even the sound of tires spinning in the rain provided peaceful white noise.
Damp clothing and numb toes lingered. We curled up under blankets, popping clothes in the dryer and cuddling to warm up again. And then, the magic of putting on my wool comfy pants - fresh out the dryer. Ah.... life's little pleasures.
My Mom
It's a profound example of love to see her give up so much of her routine and life's pleasures, for the constant care of my ailing father. They've created, in many ways, their own language of love and routine of sustenance in these fading years. Her true delights of gardening and socializing on the back burner as she cares for the love of her life. The vulnerable call of, "Hon," coming from the Game Room, beckoning for water, or a cup of fruit, or letting her know about his last bowel movement.
I've thought a lot in the last few years about the similarities between motherhood and being a caretaker in one's final years. There's a lot of conversations about poop. And food schedules. And sleep schedules. No longer the complexities of every hobby and adventure. Now, the adventure is a shuffle on a walker from one end of the house to the other and back.
It's been a beautiful thing, the last few months, to welcome Audrey Louise into our lives. To see my Mom have a new life and set of adventures to focus her thoughts on, outside of caretaking. It delights me to call her up and not only hear about which doctor came to visit today - but also that Carter and Lisanna brought Audrey over. And my Dad's emotional reaction. (And his determined mindset that they are going to have another, soon, and it will be a boy.)
It's the cycle of life. To welcome a new generation and my Mom's first biological grandchild, while my Dad lives out his last days, weeks and months. A beautiful blessing to witness and participate in.
My Jog
(Composed in my head while jogging and walking around Lake Union last night.)
My buds blow bass in my ear,
Tickling my drums,
Tinny tunes help my body,
Find the rhythm.
They say women don’t sweat,
We glow,
Bullshit.
We have glands,
Producing salty beads,
Cooling our strong curves.
Soaking each layer of wicking-wear.
Cleansing us.
Feet hit pavement.
Shocks find their way through joints,
We push forward.
Dancing in inertia.
Perpetuation.
My buds blow bass in my ear,
Tickling my drums,
Tinny tunes help my body,
Find the rhythm.
They say women don’t sweat,
We glow,
Bullshit.
We have glands,
Producing salty beads,
Cooling our strong curves.
Soaking each layer of wicking-wear.
Cleansing us.
Feet hit pavement.
Shocks find their way through joints,
We push forward.
Dancing in inertia.
Perpetuation.
i have... (my predicate poem)
cheesy carbohydrates
gray corduroy
public art
urban mindset
playful tendencies
cozy mornings
sparkling wine
communal adventures
implanted incisors
realistic optimism
loving logic
comfortable shoes
gray corduroy
public art
urban mindset
playful tendencies
cozy mornings
sparkling wine
communal adventures
implanted incisors
realistic optimism
loving logic
comfortable shoes
Some walk through these hallways with familiar nods,
Gestures rooted in expectation,
But she shines through walls,
and beyond closed doors,
Her openness a welcome invitation.
If she ever invites you for dinner.
Say yes.
She may cook for you.
She may offer you a glass of wine,
Just don't make plans after.
Take time.
Be her guest.
In her home.
Let traditions unfold.
Be ready to discuss:
Life, death, love, friendship, hobbies, art, passions,
Your own life philosophy.
Be ready to tell your story.
But truly listen to hers.
She's a little motherly.
Very friendly.
Beyond another acquaintance.
She fully embraces,
The people in her life.
She radiates warmth.
She speaks truth.
She is not afraid.
When I grow up, I want to be like her.
Even an inkling in the general direction of the love and hospitality she embodies.
But the beauty of it is,
I don't have to wait.
I can be her friend now.
Be in her life.
There's little I know for certain,
But her presence in my life is no mistake.
Gestures rooted in expectation,
But she shines through walls,
and beyond closed doors,
Her openness a welcome invitation.
If she ever invites you for dinner.
Say yes.
She may cook for you.
She may offer you a glass of wine,
Just don't make plans after.
Take time.
Be her guest.
In her home.
Let traditions unfold.
Be ready to discuss:
Life, death, love, friendship, hobbies, art, passions,
Your own life philosophy.
Be ready to tell your story.
But truly listen to hers.
She's a little motherly.
Very friendly.
Beyond another acquaintance.
She fully embraces,
The people in her life.
She radiates warmth.
She speaks truth.
She is not afraid.
When I grow up, I want to be like her.
Even an inkling in the general direction of the love and hospitality she embodies.
But the beauty of it is,
I don't have to wait.
I can be her friend now.
Be in her life.
There's little I know for certain,
But her presence in my life is no mistake.
I used to dig my arms deeply into the dirt.
Stretching out, curling my fingers, twisting my arms.
It was dark. Cold. Slow. Damp. Difficult.
I spread myself thickly.
Grasping and growing.
Creeping. Crawling.
Snarling. Gnarling.
I knew nothing beyond this existence.
I survived.
One day, strong hands released me.
I was leveraged out of the life I knew,
They reached and pulled and cut me back.
They lifted me up.
On that day I was unearthed.
I was surrounded by light and laughter and friends.
They took me to a party where everyone ate and drank and laughed more.
They took care of me.
Wrapped me up in bright colors.
I go to parades and parties and festivals.
They’ve adorned me.
They’ve adored me.
I include.
I live.
As art.
Stretching out, curling my fingers, twisting my arms.
It was dark. Cold. Slow. Damp. Difficult.
I spread myself thickly.
Grasping and growing.
Creeping. Crawling.
Snarling. Gnarling.
I knew nothing beyond this existence.
I survived.
One day, strong hands released me.
I was leveraged out of the life I knew,
They reached and pulled and cut me back.
They lifted me up.
On that day I was unearthed.
I was surrounded by light and laughter and friends.
They took me to a party where everyone ate and drank and laughed more.
They took care of me.
Wrapped me up in bright colors.
I go to parades and parties and festivals.
They’ve adorned me.
They’ve adored me.
I include.
I live.
As art.
Happy May Day!
In May of 2004 (wow... 6 years ago!) I went out with a couple roommates, Lauren and Mel, on a simple little adventure. At the time, we all lived together in a big house on Queen Anne. So, being May 1st, we decided to go buy some flowers and pass them out to strangers along Queen Anne Ave.
We loved the experience, and did it again the following year.
Though we haven't quite made it an annual tradition, when I saw May 1st fell on a Saturday this year, Mel and I committed to passing out flowers again this year. Jenny joined us this year.
Mel and I took the streetcar to the market. It was her first time riding it.
We went to the market and decided to buy tulips. We found a vendor where you got 30 (beautiful) tulips for about $20.
We each bought a bouquet.
We left the market and headed towards Westlake Park. Obviously, a Saturday downtown had many more people than upper Queen Anne had several years before. We proceeded to hand out flowers to strangers. A simple, "Happy May day!"
A few people reacted in a confused manor. There are some who turned us down. But for the most part, people smiled and said thank you. And that was that.
Yesterday was a busy day at Westlake Park. There were some very aggressive and judgemental evangelicals, some anti-war protesters, a marijuana-legalization march, and people were gathering for an immigration rally.
On a busy day like this, it was refreshing to be out there with no agenda, other than to make people smile. To wake someone up, for just a brief moment, from their routine. To give freely, without expectation.
We loved the experience, and did it again the following year.
Though we haven't quite made it an annual tradition, when I saw May 1st fell on a Saturday this year, Mel and I committed to passing out flowers again this year. Jenny joined us this year.
Mel and I took the streetcar to the market. It was her first time riding it.
We went to the market and decided to buy tulips. We found a vendor where you got 30 (beautiful) tulips for about $20.
We each bought a bouquet.
We left the market and headed towards Westlake Park. Obviously, a Saturday downtown had many more people than upper Queen Anne had several years before. We proceeded to hand out flowers to strangers. A simple, "Happy May day!"
A few people reacted in a confused manor. There are some who turned us down. But for the most part, people smiled and said thank you. And that was that.
Yesterday was a busy day at Westlake Park. There were some very aggressive and judgemental evangelicals, some anti-war protesters, a marijuana-legalization march, and people were gathering for an immigration rally.
On a busy day like this, it was refreshing to be out there with no agenda, other than to make people smile. To wake someone up, for just a brief moment, from their routine. To give freely, without expectation.
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