Home!

I got home in the afternoon on Monday, a friend brought food and I crashed to sleep early. Sol Duc is a bit surprised to be here.

Tuesday I stepped in a puddle in the laundry room and uh-oh! The utility sink had filled and overflowed, though not much. There is a pump in the laundry room that handles the water from the kitchen sink and the laundry and it died. It was working when I was here for two days in October, I think. I can’t remember hearing it on this trip. I can hear the pump from the kitchen. As soon as I saw the water, I realized that I had not heard it.

The plumber came yesterday, confirmed that the pump has died and hopefully will have a new one to install next week. I told my house that I’d like a warmer and less wet welcome home, but never mind. Things wear out, leak, break down. At least I have the money to fix it since I am working.

The photograph is from Tuesday, from the Bishop Hotel downtown, the live music from 5-7. Casey Macgill and friends and they are fabulous! I got to see friends, hear the music and dance some! Happy!

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: leak.

grounded

Poem: grounded

grief is an ox
that stands in the room with me
and overshadows
everything

no
grief
is a plow
pulled by an ox
I try to guide it
in the furrows

no
grief is the heavy ground
the plow turns it
the ox pulls
I guide it
in the furrows

no
I am grieving
I let it be close
I don’t push it
in to an ox
in to a plow
in to the earth
I let it in
I grieve

flooded

I wrote this after the tsunami in Japan. I was thinking about PTSD and triggers and being overwhelmed. And the flooding now in Texas….

Flooded

I cry because
the laundry overflowed
the sewer blocked again
we might have to pull up the floor
and lay it down a third time
I hate the laundromat
water runs across the floor
as fast as the tsunami
crossing the fields
crushing the houses
catching the trucks
in Japan

I cry because
I have to ask for help again
Help comes
but the memories of asking
when it didn’t
help didn’t come
and I was abandoned or humiliated
rise up and overwhelm me
I am flooded
I am helpless
someone help those people
The shaking earth is bad enough
But the ocean rolling inland
Over all
Breaking all
Beams to toothpicks
Those are the memories that rise up
And flood me
I think of the soldiers
and victims of wars and disasters
and PTSD
tsunami
of memory

 

previously published on everything2.com

For the Daily Prompt: memorize. In PTSD, the memories are not what people want to memorize.

musicΒ  Randy Newman Louisiana 1927