What day is it

All I know is that Costco is open - 

I think it's daylight and someone drove me here

I don't know where she is, but my task is 

to evaluate the couch

she'll come back soon, the cart laden with 

Manchego and Petit Basque, organic chicken

and double walled vacuum mugs.

She loves those.

The couch passes my criteria, no matter where it is,

I can rest and relax, no matter whether day

or night.

So many choices in life

This was serious business, with long term consequences,

at least five bottles of alcohol, no six, since four

are small, 

arrayed on a checkered table

(I painted that to decide if my marriage was over,

a ouiji board of sorts, with pink and blue colliding

and not matching, in the middle),

I stopped watching them, the two men and reflected

on failed marriages

then turned to my own glass of syrah.

Turning 65

Today I am 65 and it seems big, to be 65,

it is, now officially in the last phase of life,

on Medicare, permanent dimples, or are they wrinkles,

a few wiggly parts that won't ever firm, my job

is winding down, and men don't look at me anymore.

I think it's ok, mostly, but there is no going back

to youth, and I know that age will creep up,

a little harder to balance, my children are getting 

old - one approaching 40

I used to wonder at women I knew whose children

were 40 and wonder how on earth.

I can ramble in my head, but listen, mostly.

It's ok being 65.

I still love, and am loved. 

Losing Philip

Philip, you're 

a tiny baby fitting in one hand,

after weeks of promising life, a beating heart,

all of us praying and hoping for you to arrive so we

could hold you in our arms.

Yet, not to be, you arrived early, breaking our hearts.

Instead, you are wrapped in a small cloth,

your heart no longer beats and your body goes cold.

Our hearts will never stop beating for you, with you

no matter where you may reside, in the wind,

the trees, with Owen, who will greet you

and welcome you.

Grief too deep to bear

 I sit here at the dinette, alone.

Tonight the baby will slip between her thighs

away, never to be held in our arms

this grief is too deep to bear.

I hear the hum of the dishwasher,

listening to Owen's playlist, Owen,

my grandson, who slipped out between her 

thighs, and passed away being held in their arms

I sat alone, frozen in grief, for them, for me,

for us, for the future that won't be.

This grief is too deep to bear, their dreams

slipped between her thighs in an unrealized

dream that leaves us cold and bereft.

I sit here at the dinette, alone, listening

to the dishwasher hum, the dog going to

the front door to greet my husband

no one can erase this grief

we travel together and alone.

Polishing away the tarnish

Somehow polishing silverware that is never used

freshens me, removes some of the tiredness I feel,

the grief that is hovering, not yet realized, but hovering

it is true

I do things that make no real sense, leaving tasks that

should be done, but are left undone,

like the children that should arrive, but do not.

The silverware sits on a hard bed of baking soda

waiting for a second soak to

clean away the rest of this tarnish

even then, it never truly disappeared.

Finding beauty in the everyday: celery peels

Before I plopped the celery peels in the compost bin,

I noticed

that they curled up like living beings in the drain,

like you would see on an ocean floor, imagined small

tentacles outstretched to catch algae

floating in the current.

yet, I am in my kitchen with its black and white tiles

and the ocean is nowhere in sight

even the mountains are hidden behind the curtains.

yet, there is life here in my sink

it's transformative. 

The reason I don't get "anything" done

an email from Goulet Pens, my favorite pen store

a link, therein, on how to clean fountain pens

mine are often clogged.

and so, I watch, and then I get a couple pens,

I follow the instructions and look for a suitable 

beautiful paper to verify the beautiful flow of ink

and now it's 10:30 a.m. and I have done "nothing",

none of those things that need to be done, but 

I looked more closely at the pattern of the card 

that Gloria sent me, and noticed and remarked inside

how much I love the color of that particular ink.

and, then, later, I talked to Gloria on the phone

but I forgot to tell her about my morning.  

Just say yes - Mira's wisdom

Just say yes,

it takes longer

some more time to hold Mimi's hand

and look for puddles at each crosswalk

a few more footprints to mark my passage,

and Mimi's

we let the cars go by, the ones patiently waiting

for me, Mimi waves them across

she said yes

our last walk from OpaMimi daycare

towards home, to MamaPapa and Baby Brother,

Felix.

At dinner, Mama told me that she pushed out

Felix with muscles and I ponder its meaning.

I only know that it's important. 

Just say yes and we will be late,

Mimi and I are so happy for  few more minutes

together. 

Pick the largest apple, carry band-aids

Pick the biggest apple

(that hardly fits in your chubby hands)

(only babies need it sliced up)

Start chomping

(a narrow chomp, a line, that extends)

the full 360 from beginning to end.

(Examine and verify). 

Put aside until later when hunger strikes.

Keep band-aids handy, as needed. 

A new year, seeing beauty no matter what - Mushrooms

As the knife sliced through 

yet another and another, after having been

well rinsed, dried, sorted, 

like I never do.

I carefully cut the stem, a little too deep,

a solar system opened in front of my eyes,

the interior of the sun broiling onto the surface,

rings of asteroids, and the wobbly orbits

spinning madly to stay within her

influence.

Who knew that within a mushroom was

contained the universe?