Packing up

It's time to leave.

notebooks emptied into the recycle bin

quartz slides coated, or not, with lunar dust

carefully placed into Sam's box, and books on 

Matlab programming and atomic oxygen 

into Jordan's.  

A box of long expired ionic liquids and dead 

circuit boards to Mike

I loaded my old microscope into the car,

the one I rescued from the trash eons ago.

I found artifacts of experiments I'd conducted over

the years, marveling at my work as if it wasn't

done by me, it was another era before Mira

disrupted my days and shattered my focus.

and before the pandemic ended our

discussions in the break galley.

It just seems to be time to move on,

with excitement, relief, and a bit of sadness.

My replacement when I retire

she put my badge around her neck, 

looking serious, the slide rule was back

in its plastic sleeve, and the calculator

was stored on the windowsill for use

a bit later, no doubt.

She is ready, this girl, tools in hand,

bowls for measuring, a book on 

diversity in the workplace.

And I am ready to pass on my badge

to an able protegee.  

Yes, she might need a few years 

of training, but there is no doubt in my 

mind that she has what it takes. 

tag: Mira 

Memorial to the ten who were lost

They were young and old, tall and short,

all deserved to live, finally passing away quietly

in their beds at a ripe old age

They have died, their lives taken with such violence

now we see them in a peaceful stream bed

standing tall and with grace,

no one can take away their memory.

Practice Retirement, Day 1

 I stayed up late last night finishing a report.
Today, I slept in late, walked the dog, belatedly
cut back the brown stems in the garden, took
care of the baby, bought fabric to make a new cover
for the dog bed, cooked, took a nap, had dinner,
watched my favorite show, thanked Karen for donating
$1000 to Chef Academy Senegal (I was so moved!),
and now, writing a poem of sorts, recognizing that 
I have kept my New Years' Resolution, and wondering
what I will tomorrow on Saturday.
I'll find out tomorrow.

The daughter of my daughter

Long ago

she reached into a cabinet to pull out

pots and pans, metal ones that clanged onto

the linoleum floor, the same floor 30 years later,

black and white tiles, chipped and stained.

today, the child of the "she" from long ago

reaches into a drawer to pull out plastic

gelato and Rubbermaid storage

containers, throwing them to the ground,

then dropping to her knees and butt to

determine how to screw the tops back

onto the bottoms. 

she did not succeed today but she 

will,

very

soon. 

tag: Mira

Flying high

it was a cloudy, gloomy day

until I looked up and saw them.

Flying high overhead, circling like

eagles on the updraft, then 

spinning down like hawks 

until

the sail spins and slows,

she glides in for a landing

stepping forward onto the 

ground.

seeking peace

the clouds roll across the sky

grasses bend gracefully in the wind

snow dusted mountains in the distance

my footsteps press into soft gravel

the wind is cold and I am glad I have

my mask, in spite of the reason

there are so many who are no longer

with us

and now, ten more who have unwillingly

been wrenched from their family and friends.

I mourn them, their families, 

I think only of them today.

There are no words

IndieGoGo fundraiser for Chef Academy Senegal

how could anyone not want to help them,

these beautiful young women, bursting with energy,

facing a lifetime of hand laundry and child rearing.

I jump to help them and can only imagine my friends

jumping, too, but 

somehow

we are seem to be stuck in our own little worlds

and few will click the button 

to change a woman's life half way

around the world.

You can donate at this link. 

https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/help-build-chef-academy-senegal

Why Senegal? I originally visited Senegal to find Ameth, a boy I had supported for 10 years through a charitable Non-Government Organization (NGO).  After he aged out of the program and communication through the NGO was terminated, I became somewhat obsessed with finding him. I started cold contacting hundreds of strangers on FaceBook in Senegal who might help me, with nothing more than an outdated picture and his all-too common name. Miraculously, we were united for the first time in a dusty courtyard at his school, in a small city about 150 miles from Dakar.

We were delighted to see each other, yet ...he seemed defeated by life. After a delicious lunch with the whole family and assorted neighbors, I got to thinking about how to help him and his family. With modest support from me, Ameth today is unrecognizable from the boy I met that day.  Where once he was sullen and defeated, basically illiterate, he is now teaching me his native language, Wolof, speaks French fluently and is learning Italian in Milan while visiting his father. I also provided modest funds to his mother to start her own small business. In Dakar, Casamance, St. Louis, I met a cross-section of Senegalese people, from tailors to artists, mothers, young people looking for work. I was impressed by their dignity, in spite of their hardships.

People often muse that they don’t know how to contribute positively to the big issues of today – poverty, inequality, racism, etc. It takes less than you think, from my experience. And giving support is so powerful. I can assure you that your donation will directly aid young Senegalese women. I appreciate all that you can give.

I’m hoping to go back to Senegal in January 2022 to look at land, meet local leaders to share thoughts about the project.  I’m looking forward to it! And my Ameth...I don’t know whether he will be back in Senegal, so maybe I will have to hop up to Milan!

There is a lot of information about the project when you select DONATE. You can also visit our website  Chef Academy Senegal Website.   If you don’t want to use the electronic option, you can also send a check to Chef Academy Senegal or Venmo me and I’ll send it on.  Chef Academy Senegal, 17605 E. 110^th Way, Commerce City, CO  80022.  My Venmo handle is @Genevieve-Devaud.

Many thanks in advance!  

Look and you shall see

out walking the dog

beauty jumped out at me

the shimmer of ice 

I wish I had been there to watch

the lightning speed at which the ice

raced across the liquid, so cold

that once those small crystals

of frozen water started, one 

could hardly blink without

missing yet another amazing

natural show.

My dear friend, Djiby Seye

he towers over me

and everyone calls to him in the street

Royal Djiby Seye

the man who makes everyone laugh

even me who speaks no Wolof, just 

watching his gangly legs swing over 

anyone the size of a mere mortal.

he is my friend, Djiby Seye,

on es ensemble.  

An igloo in the neighborhood

I-gloos are made of ice and snow

G-athered from the surrounding field

L-ovingly packed into a shelter with an

O-val door

O-open for business..come on inside and rest.

Decisions decisions

paralyzed by too many choices

a known phenomenon

like the cereal aisle.

he wrote the options for the day,

all that I wanted to do and compared

with the number of hours to do them

something had to go, I admitted

sadly, and the line item "piddle around"

was a non-negotiable - everyone needs

that kind of time, unaccounted for.

no gardening and the grey hairs will

show for another day.

It's ok, I don't see anyone

anyway.

we are one

we are one.

doing the dishes

folding laundry

she watches what I do

holding her wooden spoon

as if a conductor's baton.

and when our work is done

she climbs over me and on me

as if my body is her body

we are one.

Mothering is a trash compactor

A condensed square with six sides and no door

the echo of children reverberating within

I remember this, pacing between walls, ceiling and floor

emptying grocery bags and cooking food,

tucking in children, singing songs and telling stories,

maybe to myself, that one day I would be 

able to take a shower alone and read a book,

quietly, with no interruption.

And then one day, they had both left and the walls

fell away and blue sky filtered in, a breeze blew

across my cheeks and I was free. 

Look Skyward

you can hardly see the specks 

in the clouds, but they are there,

the skydivers, their colorful kites

winding up and down the thermals,

like the backbone of a DNA molecule,

each person close to the other,

never colliding.  

I stopped to look, squinting my eyes,

distracted by the pattern in the clouds,

the slot of blue above the hilltops,

the brown grasses of winter on the

gentle slopes.

those skydivers up there, do they see 

the same beauty or are their eyes full

of tears from the wind rushing 

across their faces

We do it all for hu-MAN-ity

yep,

women do it all, and then some,

unpaid, of course, it's a pleasure,

thank you for the opportunity to 

wipe the poop from their bottoms

after suckling them, after which dinner

needs to be done, the shopping, too.

get paid, no way, we are women after all

born and bred to serve hu-MAN-ity

without complaint, we are so well trained.

we feed and clothe, we wash and dry

and at the end of the day, we sooth

his frayed and needy soul, we do it all,

yep

we do it all, unpaid and happy

Valium bottles at our sides,

we help hu-MAN-ity thrive. 

Moderna, Boulder Community Hospital, thank you

The text arrived at 10 a.m. and the shot

entered my arm at 3 p.m. after a 5 minute wait,

as scheduled, headed home after another 

15 minute wait to for any corporeal reaction.

All this

a mere three days after I was eligible.

Next shot, 2:45 p.m. in four weeks.

Not bad for a broken government.

My little gardener

I know that one day we will dig in the dirt

together

planting tiny seeds in crooked furrows

spinach and lettuce in spring

beans and squash in early summer.

her tiny fingers will get bigger

and more skilled

today she digs her tiny fingernails

into the warm, damp earth

raking aside dead leaves and grasses

reaching for pine cones

and one day, we will harvest together

my  hands will be heavily veined

but I will still hold hers in mine.

tag: Mira

I needed that

I needed that stiff drink on the deck

the sun slowly sinking west

the chill in the wind

the sooth of in-person conversation

seeing my brother again.

damn the restless night's sleep

after a drunken 3 hour unconscious 

rest, where I wake up in the same position,

fully clothed, some drool on my pillowcase.

I needed that.

It was great.

Be like a baby: never stop exploring

try something new, be someone new

that's what the podcast told me to do

meet new people, go new places

don't tell them who you used to be

what you used to do

it's a new day, new adventures, new challenges.

find a new cup, a new top, turn it over,

throw it across the carpet, try again

advice of the day:  be like a baby

never stop exploring

tag: mira

The house on the Hill

yes, it's huge.

and it belongs to my son and his wife, from the room

cantilevered towards the west, one can

gaze in awe at the mountains, so close, and

even walk two blocks to a path where one can lose

oneself amongst the pine trees and grasses.

I will go there to escape the din of downtown

where a man was breaking into houses

armed with a machete, a crazy person,

we have them down here.

a mere 3 miles distance, one can look towards

the mountains, soak in the hot tub on the back deck.

this is not my life, but I'll bring my swimming 

suit and soak my tired bones.