Breadcrumb #401


I had to give up nicotine years ago.
Now my fingers grip bamboo chopsticks
not for salty udon noodles or slurps of sake
but for green tea, steamed broccoli and brown rice--
with sauce on the side.

I miss the inhales and exhales:
tree pose isn’t enough to kill the memory of the taste.

Cloves and black lungs,
coughs and the ashy residue, 
make it easier for long stares that occur
at 5. a.m;
looking at up at the ceiling
where lines spread the shape of spider legs
across the creeping shadows.

The white noise of the fan,
the cuddling,
and coos of my lover
isn’t enough to tune me out of me.

I miss the inhales and exhales
tree pose doesn’t kill the memory of the taste.

I want to hum a silly song
just to occupy that space:
a quiet field where dandelions and kites
breeze behind a canopy of purple leaves.

• • •

Breadcrumb #73


She was right where she wanted to be...

holding Daddy's hand as they paid for the comic book she'd read as she waited for him to finish
his work at the train station;

yelling "Watch me one more time, Mom" as she jumped into the cool Adirondack lake, twirling in the "spinny" dress, feeling the ever-elusive beauty of her body, for a moment in time;

looking into the eyes of her newborns, marveling at her ridiculous luck at birthing such perfection;

reading endless bedtime stories, stepping on lost Legos, and chasing superheroes holding action figures;

drinking hurricanes, shopping at the French market and eating beignets with the BFF who had shared her life since they were 10-year-olds;

hearing the words "The key to S's heart, as he proffered the plastic key that opened his world of autism — a world he shared with precious few.

She was right where she had to be... 

counting the five doctors sewing the gash on her 5-year old face, covered with a bandage that would become her kindergarten "show and tell" and, once removed, reveal a permanent scar;

working at the amusement park, the old soul who never fit in with the other, more carefree teenagers, to save money for the college degree that would be the ticket to changing lives;

testifying in the courtroom, awaiting the judge's decision, in a battle she never anticipated, with too much acrimony;

driving endless country roads, through abominable weather to get home to her boys, never wanting to miss a moment;

pacing hospital corridors, awaiting the results of the endless tests and surgeries her mother endured with a smile;

holding the hand of that same mother, as her palpable energy drained from the body that could no longer contain it;

lying on the surgery table, looking at the doctor who restored her hearing, crying with joy at the sounds to come.

She was right where she was at that moment...

saying "I do," one son escorting her down the aisle, to the other as officiant;

relishing the look on her husband's face when he walked through the door;

feeling the water of that Adirondack lake soothe her now-middle-aged body, but feeling like that little girl begging her mom to watch;

bursting with pride at her sons' creative accomplishments, realizing that her love of words and music were reflected in their souls.

She will be where life will take her...

reading anything and everything;

fighting the rumination that plagues her still;

listening to the sounds, the achingly beautiful sounds of her life;

wondering if she will still make a difference in this world;

cherishing every friendship, nurturing each with love and care;

missing the ones who shaped her, long gone from this world, but alive in her heart;

traveling with her husband, rejoicing in the new experiences;

getting lost, but knowing she will always end up where she is supposed to be;

singing with her out-of-tune, but extremely enthusiastic voice,

now that she is retired, but not done.

• • •