February Haibun

Time for Monday Haibun in the dVerse Poets Pub

The Snow Moon is a reminder that change is not always showy. It illuminates the gentle stirrings that often create the most meaningful shifts. This is the time to trust the stillness and the truth of your own knowing. **

 February's Snow Moon

It has taken me close to eighty-three years .. a long time, to understand and fully appreciate my journey here on Earth. How my actions, absence of action impacted those I love. Forgiveness is precious .. I have joyfully granted, and received it. 

a confessional 

as the moon is being lit

at peace with myself

** www.spiritualityhealth.com

Tuscany in September

September 2016. Montecatini, Italy. Late afternoon sun is sinking over the city. I watch as a dapper Tuscan weaves his way thru the sidewalk throng. Silver hair, resting on his neck. Armani shades (I can tell, no matter how far away.) I need to know him, have no idea what I am going to say ~ in pathetic Italian at best. 'Mi Scusi .. bar più vicino ??' (excuse me, where is the nearest bar?)

He looks vaguely amused / but intrigued. A pick-up line he likely hasn't encountered. Looks me over (twice) takes my hand, leads me down cobblestone streets to the Bar Condicio.

I offer my best 'sophisticated lady' impersonation. As such, I order a Caipiriña which I notice features cachaça (recalling that time in Brazil I impressed everyone by drinking several shots in a row! )

Well friends, the rest of my story is a blur. I leave it to you and your vivid imaginations to come up with the perfect ending! (I do recall a kiss on both cheeks followed by 'Arrivederci Bella Signora.')

Tuscany in Fall

sensory pleasures galore

magic in the air

Summer in the 50s!

Let me preface by disclosing as a child, this is as near to a pool as I ventured, usually in the company of my sisters, cousins and Aunt. Mother and Daddy didn't swim. What in the world was wrong with me? Everyone else swam while I managed a tepid dog-paddle.

Fast forward to summer 1972. St. Louis, our first home as a family of six .. complete with a pool. One tiny problem. I was still doing the awkward dog-paddle. Yes, I could actually get myself from side to side. But now? I had four children to keep safe! 

Mommy never learned to swim so fast. Mind you I did not progress to Olympic level, but proficient enough to jump in, wrap my arms around a child and swim to safety if I had to. Cheers to me!!! 

growing up in it

summer's sweet humidity

nothing more luscious 

 

Mountains To Climb

 

The 1940s, Main Street, Caseyville Illinois

 

I remember our house was small and sat at the top of a hill adjacent to a flowing creek. Every time my Dad drove our black ’32 Dodge sedan up the hill to that house I remember experiencing a keen sense of fear … what if we tipped over and rolled down the embankment and into the creek! Was that possible? Did my Dad know what he was doing? Clutching and all the maneuvering?  Rain, snow, ice, muddy slushy ruts ~ up/down/up/down. Might this have launched my lifelong fear of heights, of water? My 'always' position in the car … back seat, passenger side … facing the creek, teetering on the edge as we traveled uphill.  I suspect my younger sisters, one in the middle, one on driver’s side never noticed the creek or that steep incline. Strong swimmers, no fear of heights. Case closed. 

come rain or come shine

an optical illusion

childhood fantasy