Getting around to it

 

The empty tuna can sat on the floor next to the cat’s dish. He had meant to throw it in the trash but, he’d get around to it. It was cold in the room he liked best in the old house. The one with the fireplace that he dares not light because he thought he heard something crawling around up there. He’d been meaning to shine a light up into it but, he hadn’t gotten around to that yet. He had wondered if he did light a fire maybe whatever it was would scurry down and he could throw a bucket over it. He’d have to think on that. So instead, he covered himself up with a couple quilts his mom had made a long time ago. They were what she would have called thread bear, but aside from some toes sticking through, they did the trick. He couldn’t sew so no sense thinking about mending them. The cable tv wasn’t working, he’d been meaning to call them but hasn’t gotten around to that either. His dad used to say he was about last in the line when brains were handed out. Dad was full of witty sayings, but most were mean. He liked to read especially books with big print because his glasses got smashed to bits when they fell on the floor, and he stepped on them. He’d been meaning to get some new ones, but he hadn’t gotten around to doing that. He didn’t have any clocks in the house that worked so he never really knew what time it was. He just figured it was day when it was light outside and night when the blackness surrounded him. He figured he didn’t need to think about fixing the clocks. He sure missed his moms cooking but she couldn’t go in the kitchen anymore and dad was in the basement. It was daytime when there was a loud knocking on the front door. He knew that because it was light outside. He slowly peeked through the small window on the door and saw some policemen standing there. He wanted to be a policeman, but he never got around to doing it. He opened the door, and one policeman covered his face, and another threw up right on the porch. He’d get around to cleaning that. They took him to a nice place where the clocks worked, and the room was warm. They asked him why he hadn’t called anybody about his moms and dads’ deaths, and he told them he hadn’t gotten around to it yet, and who would feed his cat?

Mike 2021

A simple cup of tea

 

We’d share a cup of tea and chat about everything. The topic didn’t matter much it was just being in each others company that truly mattered. "A hot cup of tea will cure anything", she’d say to me. As a young boy my tea was more milk and sugar but in time, I began to like the flavors of the teas themselves and actually acquired blends from across the globe in pursuit of the perfect one. It became something we both looked forward to, the arrival by post of a new flavor. Opening the box was a labor of love careful not to damage a single leaf. With the water coming to a boil, we’d put a bag in each of our favorite cups both well worn from years of daily duty. "Breath in" she would say, "oh what a marvelous aroma, don’t you agree?" When the new flavor had the time it needed or we thought it needed, we’d ring out the excess on our spoon careful not to waist a single drop. Then the waiting game began. Letting it cool down just the right amount to avoid a scalded mouth and ruining the moment entirely. Smiling at each other we picked up our cups and let a sip enter our mouths. Feeling much like a connoisseur of fine wines I let the tea swish around my mouth as I told myself out loud of course how I found it to be. "Simple," I said. "With just a sprig of tartness like a citrus of sorts." She did the same and agreed with my assessment adding she tasted an earthy taste like a damp moss after a spring rain. It was a lovely blend that we agreed would make an excellent addition to our cupboards. As time passed and my life took me many miles away, we never lost the times we spent together sharing a cup of tea. We’d chat on the phone for hours surprising each other on that day’s choice sometimes choosing the same blends. When she became too ill to have our tea together, I would remind her of all her favorites and shed smile letting me know she remembered. When she passed, I gathered up her teas and special cup hanging it next to my own. I still to this day brew two cups and chat with her wherever she may be. I hope she’s in a beautiful garden sharing her favorite blends and telling the others how she and her son found the key to happiness with just a few sips of tea and a loving daily chat.

   For my dear mother who passed away from The virus leaving behind a treasure chest of memories for me to remember and savor much like the teas we shared for a lifetime.

Setting course

 

The ocean stretched out in front of him beckoning that he follow deeper and deeper into the unknown. It’s a different world at sea, a magical vast canvas,

the boat a pencil making invisible lines to somewhere. You feel so small out there going days even weeks without sighting another vessel. The only sound the engine chugging along in a constant melody that you sometimes shut down to take in perfect silence. You never worry about getting lost as the compass and the stars will forever be your guide as you wander into the deepest of blue. After weeks at sea a bird lands on the guard rail announcing to you land is near. Looking around you spot it about three miles ahead. You slowly navigate your boat into a cove where you lay anchor and step off into waist deep cool water. Once on shore it takes a moment to get your land legs back then you proceed to explore what appears to be a small uninhabited piece of paradise. You gather the fruits of the island fresh and bountiful, placing as many as will fit into your cloth sack. A bit further into the landscape the sound of a waterfall beckons you. Shedding your shorts, you dive into the cold water ridding yourself of caked on salt you’ve carried on your being for weeks maybe more. Cleaned and stocked up you wade back to you boat and prepare a meal of fish and fruit washing it all down with clear fresh water. Now as the boat rocks you to sleep you dream of tomorrow and where the tides will take you. You dream about those you said goodbye to months ago waving as you left port knowing you did all you could do over the years and now it was time to set an invisible course because you don’t care where you are heading just that you are.

Dusty wooden box

 

A small wooden box sat on his dresser. A dust collector except for the times he noticed it and rubbed it clean with the handkerchief he kept in his pocket. He would open it and smile at his treasures collected over time, each object a memory of his life. A red pocket knife his dad gave him on his tenth birthday. He later learned his dad had ordered it out of the sears catalog. That knife turned sticks into spears and sliced countless apples. A constant reminder that he was armed in case of alien attacks. There was a picture of Christ on the cross a holy card given to him by his mom telling him to hold onto it and pray when he felt the need. He couldn’t count the times he did just that. There was a silver dollar his grandpa gave to him the day he graduated from high school telling him his first dollar was free but those to follow would not come so easy. A small cloth bag holding six marbles that he played with as a boy. Each time he saw them he was reminded of childhood friends who faded away over time, but the memories stayed with him always. There were a couple military ribbons he earned while in the navy and a medal he didn’t talk about too much. A lock of his wife’s hair, a baby bootie and a worn-out leather wallet he carried for most his adult life. Closing the old box on the dresser he looked into the mirror and realized all the years he’s been on this earth amount to a dusty wooden box filled with one mans treasures and he was ok with that.

I wept once more

 

A FLEETING SCENT OF LAVENDER OR MAYBE LILAC FILLS MY SENSES BRIEFLY BUT MEMORABLY.A DISTANT SMILE COMES INTO VIEW ONLY TO BE ERASSED BY THE HORN OF AN APPROACHING TRAIN. STANDING IN OUR FAVORITE SPOT ON THE BANKS OF THE MIGHTY NIAGARA I REACH FOR YOUR HAND AND FOR AN INSTANT I FEEL YOU AND MY LEGS GROW WEAK. THERES A CHILL IN THE OCTOBER AIR AS I REACH INTO MY POCKET AND FIND THE TINY PACKAGE IVE BEEN WAITING TO SHARE WITH YOU. A HALF SMOKED CIGARETTE WITH YOUR LIPSTICK ON THE FILTER, A MATCH BOOK FROM YOUR FAVORITE RESTAURANT AND A WHISP OF YOUR HAIR HELD TOGETHER WITH A PIECE OF RED RIBBON YOU USED TO WEAR .I TOOK AN IMAGINARY PUFF OF THE CIGARETTE AND OFFERED IT TO YOU JUST LIKE WE DID SO MANY TIMES.I HELD ONTO THE MATCH BOOK RUBBING MY FINGERS ACROSS ITS SURFACE REMEMBERING YOUR LAUGHTER AND CONTAGIOUS SMILE ACROSS THE TABLE.CLOSING MY EYES I PUT YOUR WHISP OF HAIR TO MY NOSE TAKING IN WHAT WAS LEFT OF YOUR SMELL AND AFTER THIRTY THREE YEARS, I WEPT ONCE MORE.

My Atlantis

 

When the sand runs out and waves gently roll back into the sea this will be the time to set my soul free. When all the creatures welcome me as I slowly scatter about my eternal resting place. The time draws near as I smell the salty air and feel the sting of an angry mother nature on my weathered, tired face. Ill hitch a ride on a dolphin to the depths no man has been. Coming to a stop in front of Atlantis as mermaids welcome me to the house of Neptune. What form have I takin in this ocean filled with species yet unknown and those of character fame. A whale, a stingray? Maybe a slow-moving turtle? "No", Neptune spoke for all to hear. Look around you what do you see? He pointed his staff in all directions where fish swam, and children of the sea played in the depths unknown. What you see is what all souls see as they scatter about Atlantis but how you are seen is yet to be learned. Listen closely now. Eternity is time stopped that will never come back. Who you were when the sands of time ran out for you is who you shall remain engulfed by the endless tides. Others here will see you as you see them, a piece of your whole now scattered about the ocean’s vastness. Like everything, God created the seas and made it so man could eat from bountiful catches. He blessed all that inhabited it and promised its existence for all time. The sea is more than a resting place for the ashes of sailors and men of the oceans lure, it’s a picture of time slowly moving forward with never an end in sight. I can see that now as my fins propel me away from the city of Atlantis and towards the light of a billion crashing waves upon the shores wondering if I’ll end up in a fisherman’s nets?

Mike 2021

The Tin Roof

 

The Rain slamming down on the tin roof took the silence away. Birds stopped singing, moths and other small lives beaten to the ground and a watery grave. Just a few minutes and life in my yard decreased by hundreds of unexpecting victims. When it stops and the tin roof is silent, Ill go check the avocado tree and the citrus tree that stopped producing fruit years ago because there were nests in both their branches. The fire ant and mole mounds would be tunnels to hell by now washing them under ground peering up hoping to see the light of the moon but only seeing blackness and streams of gushing water. As I stepped outside there was an eerie silence that only lasted as long as my cigarette did then, frogs started croaking, birds began to scream out distress calls looking for their eggs that fell from the nests. But the cycle had to continue as racoons grabbed the eggs and mothers cried. The night air was sticky, and the noises all spoke of danger passed until daylight broke and the soaked earth dried up waiting for the next time the tin roof cried out danger.

Proud old parent

 

The old man peered through the fence watching as the annual Easter egg hunt got underway. His memories took him back when it was his children who ran through the park in search of colored eggs.

The old man peered through the same fence watching the children play baseball as cheering parents yelled out their names in pride as they hit the ball. It took him back to when it was his kids playing and him cheering them on.

The old man peered through the same fence as he watched Friday night football under the lights remembering his son who scored the winning touch down in the playoff game.

The old man peered through the aging fence as kids played hockey on the frozen field the fire department made each winter by flooding the far end of the field. He remembered his daughter holding his hand as he taught her to skate.

Decades passed and the old man took one last look through the now weather worn fence that barely stood upright. Like the fence, the seasons of his life are almost at an end, but his memories will continue to make him smile long after his place at the fence is replaced with another proud old parent.

Mike

Brief moment in time

 

Johnny Mathis can be heard flowing throughout the little house on the hill beside the tracks. She’s just twenty years of age but life aged her a bit more than her years. She sat in front of a mirror carefully applying her make up carful not to use too much, just enough to cover tiny lines. She chose ruby red for her lips, her favorite and hopefully his too. It would be her first date since the war ended and some men who fought came back home to find a wife. She wanted more than anything to be a wife, a good wife like her mother had been for quite some time. You see dad died awhile back while working in a tank factory they never did find out how, but a lot went on back then that remained secrets. Standing in front of her mirror, she adjusted her nylons and smoothed out her dress which showed just how nice her figure was. Just then there was a knock at the door, it was him. She took a deep breath and opened the door; He was even more handsome than his picture. She got lost in his blue eyes for a second before saying hello, he tipped his hat and smiled causing her to feel a bit flushed which she hoped he hadn’t noticed. He looked so serious in his dress uniform, but she liked it very much. He held out his arm which she took as they walked to the waiting taxi.

It was a nice ride into the city that gave them a chance to get to know each other a little more than the dozens of letters they exchanged during the war. She had been at a USO dance just as the war was starting where on the bulletin board was a sign-up sheet to write letters to our soldiers overseas. There were pictures and a brief story about each soldier, and she went straight to his picture as there was just something about his face that showed kindness to her and she wanted to get to know him. They shared many stories about each other over the time he was gone and when she learned he was coming home, she truly felt a connection that he said he also felt. The taxi stopped at a restaurant he had picked, he said he wanted to surprise her and once inside she was exactly that. Never in her life had she seen such glamour and beauty.

She didn’t know exactly how long they stayed there but hours passed, and they were the last people to leave. He suggested they have a night cap at a local club that stayed open into the wee hours of the morning. They drank wine and danced to the music of a talented trio until they announced last call. She rested her head on his shoulder in the taxi ride home where he took her hand and asked her if shed consider another date? She didn’t speak but her slightly parted ruby lips gently kissed him giving him the answer he had hoped for. He walked her to the door and said he would call. She stood on her porch the noise of a train waking her from a beautiful dream as the taxi pulled away as that handsome, kind and loving man waved goodbye, but only for a brief moment in time.

Back When

 

The music was loud, and smoke filled the air as guys and gals did the razzamatazz into the wee hours of the morning.  Flappers and spats, cigarette girls with great legs and ruby red lips, Betty Grable hair and pearl cigarette holders. A time when tomorrow didn’t matter because you gave it all when unseen stars shined, and booze flowed freely in a basement speak easy. Stolen kisses that stayed on your lips as you sat at your desk typing and watching the clock daydreaming about the coming night and more stolen kisses as you danced and danced and made history without knowing it.

Wildflowers

 

 
She'd watch him as a child plowing the fields of his family farm imagining someday, he’d ask her to marry him. He barley noticed the younger girl, it was her older sister he had eyes for. She remembered times he’d come to the door calling on her with a bunch of wildflowers he picked on his way over. Her sister would smile, and they’d sit on the front porch swing sipping lemonade trying to find conversation that didn’t really ever come along.  A few months later her sister ran off with a farm hand who promised her the moon and we never saw her again. Momma said she wished the young man down the road had been the one but, sometimes life just wasn’t fair.

She grew up to be a beautiful young lady who still hid and watched the boy down the road as he plowed the fields, dreaming he’d bring her wildflowers someday. But like momma said, sometimes life just isn’t fair. On her sixteenth birthday they had a picnic and momma invited the family down the road. She wondered if he would come but why she wondered would he care about her birthday he didn’t even know she existed. She was putting bowls of fruit on the picnic table when they arrived.  Greetings were exchanged and her legs got week as he held out a bouquet of wildflowers. Happy Birthday he said smiling the most beautiful smile shed ever seen.

They got to know each other that day and the day after that. He was her first kiss, and she knew in her heart she’d found true love. The next few months were magical. Long walks across the vast fields and picnics under an ancient oak. It was on one such day he professed his love for her and two became as one. Two months later he was called to serve his country which he proudly did until he didn’t. She watched one hot summer day as the dust from a car made its way to the farm down the road and her heart sunk as she saw the U. S. Army painted on the doors.

He died a hero sacrificing his own life to save others and nobody expected anything less from him. One month later she gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. She had her daddy’s eyes and hopefully his gentle heart. Momma thought she was crazy naming the child Wildflower, but she didn’t care. Besides the child, wildflowers were his way of telling her he loved her and now every time she called her name, his memory would fill her heart with joy .Life just isn’t fair all right but other times its as true as a babies cry and a hand picked bouquet of wildflowers.

Salt water Taffy

 

He hit his knee on that darn cupboard door and an old cardboard box fell onto the floor. It must have been something his late wife put there to hide something. He sat on a chair and using his cane pulled the box towards him eventually allowing him to set it on his lap. Looking at it he remembered it. It was a saltwater taffy box she got one year on a trip to the boardwalk in cony island. He remembered how she loved that stuff and every color they offered. The box itself now sixty years old was faded and had a couple wet edges where something dripped on it over time. Although faded the scene of Cony Island with the big Ferris wheel could still be seen as he looked at it and remembered. She was a wild child when they first met. Always up for some excitement around every curve. If it wasn’t Coney park it was the ice rink in the winter or sledding down hills that made him nauseous. Summer meant the old swimming hole, or the quarries dotted all over the county map. She loved to dance and didn’t care where. A barn dance or city concert, or just him and her under the stars dancing the night away to a tune she sang as he held her close but never close enough. Opening the old box, the smell of taffy stood out if only for a second or two. It was as if she was right there again with him the smell of that taffy on her mouth kissing him like she did so long ago. He put the box on his nightstand where he could reach for it on those nights he couldn’t sleep. He’d hold it tightly to his heart and see her smiling as she tore off another piece of that saltwater taffy.

For the love of St. Paddy's day

 

There was still some pep in his step as he did a little jump and clicked his heels. He tipped his hat to passerby’s, humming a catchy tune he just heard on the old juke box in his favorite pub. The streets of the city were crowded a wee bit more than normal this day as was the custom on St Paddy’s day. The whole city was Irish proudly displaying their green attire and crazy buttons asking for a kiss. He himself dressed in Irish class with his hounds’ tooth jacket, green neck scarf and a bowler a top his wisps of red hair. His walking stick came from the old country by his great granddad who proudly handed it down through the generations. The parade would be starting soon, and he wanted a good viewing point, so he headed north on Main St until he reached Paddy O’Leary’s pub and eatery. Oh, the smell of corn beef and cabbage filled his nose and the clanking of glasses toasting the day with a pint or three. He wasn’t sure at that moment how many St Paddy’s parades he had seen over the years but, he knew it was at least seventy something. Like a kid he was as the bagpipes played and candies were thrown into the crowd of waiting children. He was proud to be an American but his love for Ireland was forever in his heart. He had his corn beef and cabbage and a pint or three then slowly walked the fifteen blocks home where he hung up his hounds tooth jacket and green scarf hopefully to be worn yet another year. Settling into his favorite chair he put a record on the old phonograph and listened until he fell asleep to the soothing sound of Danny Boy.

Happy St Patrick’s day!

Family tradition

 

A silent snow began to fall covering the colored autumn leaves. It was an early snow, a reminder of what lay ahead. He wasn’t dressed for it as he thrust his hands in his pants pockets and hurried his step towards home. Tonight, like most others he walked into Harrys bar and grill after his shift at the soon to close container factory. A place his dad once worked for twenty years. Now just shy of his sixty fourth birthday, he would be ending his time there as well. Much like his dad, life just kind of passed him buy as he did a stint in the army then married a girl he went to high school with and then there was him. He doesn’t remember much about growing up, but he remembered the shouting and the nights his dad didn’t come home until late smelling of booze and cheap perfume. And for reasons he never understood, his mom stuck with him until one day she didn’t wake up. His dad went on working his job and only had to look after him until he was old enough to sign up for his stint in the army. When he got out, he got a job at the factory but never married. He lived in an apartment over a hardware store where for many years he made it his safe place. Work, Harrys bar and grill and the apartment. That was his life, and it was winding down faster than he imagined it would.

There was a retirement party for him at Harrys bar and grill, but only the few regulars like himself had a few drinks and wished him well, even though they all knew he’d still be coming in every night until the day he didn’t. He’d still order a hamburger and a bag of chips that he’d wash down with a few beers before heading out the door into the darkness of his life. He knew the route back to his apartment like he knew his own reflection and that came in handy sometimes when he had a few to many and staggered home without looking. Thinking back, he never thought about making a change in his life but why would he? He liked woman and occasionally paid for one, but he didn’t want to chance becoming abusive and causing any pain. He’d thought about leaving the town and starting over someplace but he’d have to find a job and a place to live and a bar to frequent and that just sounded like to much effort. He remembered hearing someone say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree and he supposed that was true enough as he staggered up the stairs to his safe place.

Mike

                                                                      In Her Dreams

In her dreams her skin was smooth as cream and her eyes clear and blue. She wore her hair like other ladies in 1945, a time when woman always wore dresses made by hand and dreamed of nylon stockings that were all but impossible to get during the war. In her dream her man was off in a strange land fighting for his country, she was so proud of him yet worried like the others he may never come home. On days a letter reached her, she sat down preparing for his words that flowed across the paper like a gentle moving stream. “My dearest” it would begin, her tears already flowing down her face, telling her war was hell but soon he would return to her as he longed to hold her in his arms and dance again. In her dreams he did return, and they married soon after. Children came and a house was built, a place shed call home for decades to come. The war ended and in her dreams their daughter wed and had a child with two more to follow. Then as in life, her dreams found her old and in poor health. He stayed by her side day and night holding her fragile hand in his whispering to her how happy shed made him way back then. She smiled one last smile as she went to sleep dreaming of dancing with her soldier so very long ago when her skin was smooth and her eyes clear and blue. The last tear that fell was for him, the love of her life who died fighting for his country and only got to dance in her dreams.

Mike

HOME

 

I want to go North one more time, to a place I called home a long time ago. I want to walk in the woods among the white birch and feel the mist from a waterfall on my face. I want to walk the streets of any town U.S.A., my town. I want to retrace my steps on hot summer streets and icy roads of winter. To the band shell where the music played and the tree next to it where my initials were carved with the swiss army knife I still hold dear you see my dad gave it to me. I want to smell the hot dogs cooking on the back yard grill and fresh mowed grass. I want to go inside the church I went to every Sunday and close my eyes in the silence. I want to walk to the park and remember the picnics and ball games and swing on a creaky swing. Lastly, I want to visit those souls who passed before me. Ill have a beer with my dad and a smoke with my first love. Ill tell stories of my life to others who meant so much to me and to assure them they’re never forgotten. I’ll spend a long time with my mom who now rests among those she loved, telling her I’m ok and miss her every day. I’ll finish my walk at the tiny house by the tracks where life lessons were taught, and I knew the meaning of love. Back on the plane heading home to my family I’ll close my eyes and sleep a peaceful sleep knowing everything I am is now safely behind me.

Mike 2021