Tag Archives: home

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Wet

I am Elwha.

I am small and my sister and I chase each other in and out of the house. In to all the rooms! One day I jump in the big white smooth receptacle and it is full of water! Warm! and I can’t touch bottom! I can’t get out! I HOWL!

Mother comes, fishes me out and puts me down. I run out of that room. She drops a big cloth over me and rubs me a little. I am drenched and I smell like flowers! It takes hours to clean up. My sister sniffs me and laughs.

I never jump in there without looking again.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: drenched.

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Volunteer

I wrote this thinking about the increasing number of homeless because of housing costs and that incomes aren’t keeping up. And even if the income has kept up, a lay-off and an illness can put people so far behind that they can end up homeless. In Denmark, they rent rooms to students in nursing homes. Part of the payment is that they have to spend time with some residents. When will we set that up here?

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Volunteer

A man I know slides into kidney failure.
He’s already there when I meet him,
care for him
for a number of years.
He’s a really nice man.
Over time a bit more disheveled
unkempt
dialysis twice a week.
Even so, once on dialysis,
people die younger
than the rest of us.
Over time he is in and out of the nursing home.
loses touch with friends,
in the home so much
that even when he isn’t there
he goes there
and volunteers.
They have become his family and home.
At last he is so tired
he stops dialysis
and goes to the nursing home for the last time.
The staff call me, crying.
“He is hurting,” they say, “Do something.”
He can’t swallow.
I see him and place a fentenyl patch.
He mostly sleeps then
but is no longer in pain
He dies a few days later.
I haven’t seen this before:
The nursing home staff cry
for this man
this volunteer
this friend
and I do too.

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One reason that he did well at the nursing home was that they understood how frail he was and that he couldn’t do very much. They gave him very gentle volunteer jobs and enjoyed his company. Sometimes when people are very frail or ill, others avoid them or just do not understand.

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Happy

Happy

May Sarton writes of happiness, in the quiet at home.

I am so happy when I dance that I smile with joy.
I wonder about the Sufis spinning
and if it is the same.
The poetry has that joy
and anyone who calls God/Dess the Beloved
has my attention.
One who was almost a friend
would laugh with me at restaurants.
Twice strangers thank us for having so much fun.
say our laughter gives them joy.
Thinking about happiness,
I think of my son’s capacity for joy
and wonder where he got it.
Surprise: from me, I think.
From me.

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Water vessel

This is a brazen water vessel that belonged to my grandparents. My maternal grandmother was born in Turkey, because her parents were Congregationalist missionaries to Turkey, my great grandfather running Anatolia College. They were escorted to the border in 1915, when my grandmother was 16 years old. Thrown out.

I have a picture of my mother, dressed in a Turkish outfit, with it on her shoulder. I wish I had more of the story!

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: brazen.

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Sophisticated

We have the best deer. Really.

I took the photograph Tuesday night, from the garden behind the Bishop Hotel. “So what?” you say, “She’s just lying there.”

Let’s pan out.

She is on the hill up to the right. She is listening to the jazz, Johnathan Doyle and friends, first time this year playing outside on Tuesday night. She has at least one fawn, too. I spotted it in the garden on the other side of the band. Mom deer came behind the band, stopped and considered whether the jazz was up to her standards or not, and then she went to the hill. The fawn stayed hidden, back to the left of the dancers.

Mom deer stayed close to keep an eye on everyone and she listened to the jazz.

We really do have the most sophisticated deer.

Maybe next she’ll dance or try the saxophone.