Sunday, July 7, 2013

Four Months

Four months, such a short time and such a very long time.  One third of the way through is what I kept telling myself as I was trying to get through the church service this morning.  There should be some sort of marker.  I'm sure some cultures have one, I just don't know what it is.  So, I cried through church again, found myself sobbing in the bathroom again, and had to leave early again. 

I find myself wanting to shop. A sure sign something is wrong.  I hate shopping.  I find myself thinking it might make me feel better.  I'm pretty sure it won't, especially as there really isn't much money in the bank account. 

I'm tired of being alone.  I know everyone who knows me is laughing.  Hard.  But I miss him, he was my best friend.  Oh God, dear ones, go out and tell someone you love them.  Go for a walk, hold hands in the movies, plan a project together, cook a meal, tell them one of your secrets.  Just go do it.  Right now.  Because you will miss it when it's gone.  I promise.  You will miss that they are always there and driving you nuts.  You will miss that they want to make love when all you want to do is sleep.  You will miss that weird dish that they cook, the horrible coffee that they make, the fact that they have to have the checkbook balanced to the penny.  You will miss it.  I promise. 

So go find that thing that makes you the most crazy and appreciate it, just for a minute if that is all you can manage.  Then find that thing you love most and tell them.  Kiss goodbye when you leave each other and say I love you, even if you don't feel like it.  Later,  you will be so glad you always did.   Right now, marking this time, I go over and over those things.  Grateful for all of them and missing them like crazy. 

This morning as I was drinking my coffee on the porch, watching the farm world and marking the anniversary, the great blue heron flew a circle over the house.  I haven't seen it in a long time and it picked up and ended in the same spot.  Simply inscribing a circle over the house, saying hello.  The creature who walks the path between this world and the spirit world.  Tell him I miss him, tell him the Butterfly weed has finally bloomed and that I love him.


  1. A Pretty Song

    by Mary Oliver; from Thirst; Beacon Press, 2006.

    From the complications of loving you
    I think there is no end or return.
    No answer, no coming out of it.

    Which is the only way to love, isn’t it?
    This isn’t a playground, this is
    earth, our heaven, for a while.

    Therefore I have given precedence
    to all my sudden, sullen, dark moods
    that hold you in the center of my world.

    And I say to my body: grow thinner still.
    And I say to my fingers, type me a pretty song.
    And I say to my heart: rave on.

    xo, K

  2. oh kathleen, I have missed your poetry. thank you.

  3. Children's poetry can be so refreshing and fun. So in the interest of laughter I offer this:

    Be Glad Your Nose is on Your Face

    Be glad your nose is on your face,
    not pasted on some other place,
    for if it were where it is not,
    you might dislike your nose a lot.

    Imagine if your precious nose
    were sandwiched in between your toes,
    that clearly would not be a treat,
    for you'd be forced to smell your feet.

    Your nose would be a source of dread
    were it attached atop your head,
    it soon would drive you to despair,
    forever tickled by your hair.

    Within your ear, your nose would be
    an absolute catastrophe,
    for when you were obliged to sneeze,
    your brain would rattle from the breeze.

    Your nose, instead, through thick and thin,
    remains between your eyes and chin,
    not pasted on some other place—
    be glad your nose is on your face!

    by Jack Prelutsky, from Be Glad Your Nose is on Your Face: And Other Poems: Some of the Best of Jack Prelutsky. © Harper Collins, 2008.