Laundromat

Sometimes inspiration comes from some odd places. I was fascinated by this woman, who would NOT PUT HER PURSE DOWN. It was like it was some vital piece of her and if she dared to set it upon the dingy tile, her soul would surely be lost. I watched her struggle with that comforter for a solid 5 mins before she haphazardly got it arranged in her basket. I would have helped but she kept eye-balling me like I had the plague.

Perhaps we’re all holding on to silly things too tightly. Everything would be easier if we just set them down.

Creek Fire

The forest of my youth is burning.
Burned.


Twelve hundred miles away
I am perched on my front step,
peering over a tiny screen
and an even tinier map.
Barely discernible roads are painted red.
I can not determine how much I’ve lost. 

The dock where I first held hands with a boy.

The family cabin where I got my first bee sting; 
running headlong to my grandmother,
terrified at the hurt and the tiny dying creature. 

The lake where I finally got to drive the boat,
my father tucked proudly behind me.

I fell in love for the first time in that forest
and I wonder if my childhood is ash. 

Haiku Saturday

Another oldie. Written when CP was gone for six months on a career experience. I missed him a lot. Back then we used to talk about how we’d get to live together someday, see each other all the time, eat bad food at the kitchen counter.

Nearly four years later, it’s been everything I wanted. Except for grocery shopping – that will always suck.