Archives for the month of: April, 2016

Sometimes when you’re tired and you’re also sad, the two become one and make a mess of the afternoon.

You know that a nap would be helpful but decide instead to get on with the busy-ness of your life. You get out of the house to do what you must and you run into someone you only sort of know and whose ever present smile can solve all the world’s problems.

But today for the first time (as far as you know), he doesn’t smile and the problems remain and it’s too much. It’s too much to think that he too is sad or tired or both. So you give him a hug and he’s grateful and you are as well.

You know that could have been really weird and you take comfort in the fact that it wasn’t and in the fact that your wonderful spouse knows you well enough to be secure so it’s not weird in that way either.

Still, you go home and you eat too many gingersnaps and you take a hot bath, because it’s either that or start blubbering and make a mess of more than just the afternoon.

Gingersnap tears and a hot bath are sometimes a decent substitute for the nap you should have taken hours ago.



Life is funny, isn’t it? We walk one way, then turn this way, then that but really, it’s all the same.

I was reminded today, by one of my favorite teachers, of the poet I carry inside of me. “Oh hello, Poet. You’ve been sorely neglected, have you not?”

These past 2 years I’ve found myself exploring the world of color and light and shadow and form as I fancy myself an artist.


My mistake was to assume that one exists in exclusivity of the other. I can be a poet or an artist. No. I can be both. More accurately, I am both. And I like that about myself. I like remembering that about myself.

Like I said, it’s the same. It’s the way I get from here to there or perhaps what’s in, out.

Art and poetry are so personal and yet we share this journey. We walk one way, we turn this way and then that. We do it together and we feel so alone. With color and words and swirls and rhyme I expose the pieces of myself I never knew were hiding. And I’m gifting them to you, my neighbor.