Friday, August 6, 2010

The Watering Can

   I filled my old watering can up at the new tap that I had installed just that afternoon. The old one had dripped horribly and no amount of elbow grease or washers would stop the leak. There wasn't a problem that I couldn't tackle, so I set to the task and fixed it myself. Water droplets glistened off of the old tin, as I slaked the thirst of my precious ferns. I surveyed my gardens, looking to see which of my other beloved plants needed a drink, when my eyes drifted past the road at the bottom of my mossy front steps. A car was jerking to a stop. I set the watering can down on the ledge at the top of the stairs, as I walked by it. I stared forlornly at the car on the curb. Not again. Its dented fender and chipped paint bespoke of distraction and disregard. Nothing had changed. I saw the disheveled figure behind the driver's seat desperately straightening errant hair and checking lipstick. Like it mattered. The fact that she was here spoke volumes. No amount of rouge or hairspray could hide the fact that it had happened again. I sighed as I descended the steps towards her rusted old Buick. How many more years would she get out of it, I wondered. As many years as she could push.

   "That's quite the bruise that you are going to end up with," I stated.

   I had reached the curb just as she was unfolding her long legs from the rumpled interior.  I saw pain, fear, sorrow and anger flash across her face before she quickly replaced it with a look of surprise and nonchalance. 

   "I... I bumped into the cupboard door," she replied hastily. "It's nothing."

   A smile splashed across her face, as she flung her arms open. I couldn't help but think that it looked rehearsed.

   "Are you going to greet me or not Sis?!" she pouted with a smirk.

   A crooked smile crept across my tired eyes. I loved her so much it hurt, especially at moments like this. I knew that snippets of the story would emerge over the next few days. The images would be glossed with her mistakes, her failings and all that she could and should have done. I hated her in these moments. Not because she had let it happen, but because she could not stop it from happening, and I let her go back again and again. I felt I failed her as much as she failed herself and of course HIM. His name was always spit through my teeth. It didn't help. I offered sanctuary, reprieve, a new beginning... but when the phone rang after she had been there for several days it was always the same. He apologized, said he loved her and that it would never happen again. Things would be different; better. But her battered old Buick kept on showing up on my curb again and again. I kept wondering how much more it could take. Or her. Or me. There did not seem to be an easy fix to this problem. No washer to ebb the tide.

   With hugs and tears, I watched the beaten up old car pull away from the curb. She had been here for almost a week this time. I thought that I had gotten through to her somehow. I hoped that maybe she would be able to find her own feet, but her taillights blinked as she turned the corner. I brushed the tear that quietly crept toward my chin with the back of my hand. I glanced down at my weathered skin. Water. Yes. I climbed back up my mossy steps and picked up the watering can that I had abandoned the week before. Only a week, and yet my ferns had already started to grow over the empty vessel. They were trying to hide the dents and battle scars. I sighed again. 

"Perhaps tomorrow will be a new day," I mused as I filled the watering can and returned to the ferns that shaded my heart from the hurt that seemed never to heal.


This is in response to the prompt over at Magpie Tales. Go check it out and see what others have to offer.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

The Snake Bit Me

I just rolled out of bed. It is noonish.
   yawwnnnn....

Before you punish me with an abusive tirade on my slothfulness, I will add that I had only returned to bed around 10 o'clock. That after a night spent holding long, golden locks out of the line of fire over a toilet bowl. Oh, and also developing a dainty little blister on my thumb from trying to play plumber at 4am. I don't know if it is me that just doesn't have the knack with a snake (or toilet auger as the packaging states) or me that is an idiot to self-diagnose toilet issues, or me with a God complex that thinks she can do anything, that is at fault here. Apparently it doesn't matter, as the one thing I can do is laundry and the pile was quite large this morning. sigh... Full of towels used to mop the floor, splattered rugs and bedskirts and all the sheets off of another bed that was soaked through with pee. That announcement came at 7:30am, after I had finally fallen asleep at 6:30 praying that my daughter would not wake and splatter me with ... ugh never mind

So I am tired and wondering why the world seems to be pushing me so hard. I am not a plumber or doctor, roofer or general contractor (other issues that need tending to in my house- don't ask). It seems that I am being asked to step up to the plate to decide what I want to be though. My daughter will recover from her night of woe, but my money tree is quaking in fear as I tally the expenditures that are all imminent. I think that I might have to break down and push myself harder than I would like right about now. The world is pushing for action. An honest to goodness full-time job has been something I have been trying to avoid, but I feel that I have lost my battle. 

house 3 - Mama 0

damn

=============================================

P.S. Over a quick beer with my neighbour to get the run-down on which plants my girls need to water while she is away, I was reminded of the fact that another neighbour is a retired plumber. Oh. Yeah. Right. And another is a contractor. Really? Hunh. It looks like I shall be wandering the neighbourhood this weekend with a cooler full of adult bevereages and blank cheques inquiring if anyone has a moment to help a friend in need...

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Feet



Feet
painted, punished
drifting, dangling, drooping
challenged by the journey
appendages








Feet
youthful, lively
running, jumping, dancing
ready for the next hurdle
Vibrant



Feet
calloused, care-worn
comforting, standing, walking, 
there to stride me into tomorrow
stability





Feet
darling, unique
working, moving, living
appreciated for all they have seen and done
mine
~~~

What takes you into the future and today? My feet are feeling punished by my journey as of late. I need to appreciate them more for all they do for me. I showcase my tired tootsies over at OneShot with some Cinquain poetry today, but also give a nod to GardenMama and her Wandering Wednesday photo journeys. Happy Wednesday all!

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

A New Day


I have seen that phrase in more than one blog today. Funny that. Coincidences are never really truly random. What does it mean? It was a phrase that meant something to me about a year and a half ago. It was meant to remind me that I could go on; that I would go on; that I should go on. The future holds much that is worth looking into and returning to. While tomorrow may be bleary or bleak from one angle, it never remains stagnant. There is always a new day to unfold with new things to learn,and see, and do. From today, we cannot always see the future with clear and straight eyes. When we think we do, often a shift slips in to shake up the paths before us. Our goal is to trust that tomorrow will come. Purpose will reveal. Wait and the light will go on. I am learning to wait...

Monday, August 2, 2010

Rainbows


Rainbows to remind
that after stormy weather
comes gifts of delight

Simple reminder
that life does not always end
when showers batter

This colourful gift
can be yours to enjoy for
those willing to wait

So I wait hoping
that I will survive torrents
of passion's brute force

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