Friday, May 10, 2013

Keep Out

She sat.  Waiting.  Hoping.  Like every other weekend.  For them to visit.
Dressed in her Sunday best.  Food ready.  Table set for ten.

Four children.  Long gone.  Moved away.  Living life.  Apart from her.

Grandchildren, she’d never met.  Spouses, she’d never know.

Estranged from her rules.  Her wrath.  Her cold.

It had never been a home there.  They left when they were grown.
Lazy.  No good.  Burdens.  She’d said.  Get out.  Earn your keep.  Find your way.

They had.  For good.  Forever.

Strangers.  Trespassers.  Outcasts.  
Decades passed.  Still she sat.  Waiting.  Hoping.  Like every other weekend.  

For them to visit.  

Wednesday, May 8, 2013


The future is overwhelming, the list of tasks…insurmountable.  I leave it all behind for a walk, to think, but find myself not thinking at all.  The air is cool, the sky overcast.  A perfect day to escape.

A weed pushes through the impervious surface of the asphalt trail.  Not because it wants to but because it has to.  With a singular purpose to grow, it does.  I walk by but circle back and snap a picture of its effort.

It’s time to get home.  There’s work to do.
A lesson learned on a walk.  A lesson learned from a weed.