Semi-Daily Scribbles

slipshod

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dog Stars

Hey you! Our Ever-And-Forever-#1-Pup!! I check in pretty much all the time, but I save these puppy tales for hot August days. And this year, summer is hellish. Crazy temperatures the world over; oceans have warmed, ancient places reduced to ash. You never had much tolerance for the heat being a Pacific Northwest girl, but I hear the seasons on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge are 100% Just Right.

And so it goes.

I mark your passing with a few sentences every year although you've not strayed far from my side. Your silly, sassy energy is still felt, especially in our closet, where occasionally I hear rustling amongst the hangers and find the odd shoe out of place. And now you've got your little buddy by your side in poochie paradise. We couldn't make it past one week last Christmas with nary a schnauzer in the house, so Pa visited Madisonville and brought home M & M - two jet-colored minis in full-on manic pupette mode. They play with your toys and sleep in your green, fleece-lined basket next to my desk. One of them right now is hanging off the end of the daybed trying to jump onto the keyboard as I type these words.

Your Pa and I are the same homebodies you knew us to be from way back. Quiet pursuits like reading and TV watching are our vibe, along with daydreams of our car trips to the ocean and walks to Lincoln Park. You were the very best companion for all the adventures we shared near and far. Not a day goes by that I don't think about your feisty old self. Like scratching on the laundry room door (where we still keep the kibble) at all hours of the day in the hopes your bowl would get On Demand Refills. But I also cherish the times when you were tucked in snugly beside me in a comfy chair and I'd listen to you snore as I read.

You be good up there / everywhere and continue to show your little sister the ropes...and tasty treats, and blue bones and purple porcupines.

#RainbowBridge #PuppyLife

Too Pure

In Junior High (ages me right there using that term) we got to do work rotations in the school office. What a lucky day that was when you got assigned mimeograph duty. The cranking of the machine! Silky, glistening paper rolling out thanks to your labor!! The smell!!! Bottle that shit, man. Oh, the soothing, boozy, candy coated aroma of the ink coming off the cylinder is exactly the balm the world needs right now.

insightful flight

there’s a hollow place that fills the space in which you once presided
woodland images
sisters gathered at a picnic table
beers all around and one glass of wine

strange inflection on second syllables
hands that were the object of a stranger’s admiration
a son whose name is the same as my own

your journey now is one of real insight
an exploration of a heart defined by the third beat in a measure
music to propel you beyond earthbound concerns

The Sweetness of Life

The revolving door of reality will open out upon a memory where you and I are sitting side by side, beneath a quilt, breathing in each other's scent. This is how you will forever be.

Evergreen Memories

I stayed up all night with you, getting a bit of shut eye here and there, but mostly watched you sleep and listened to your labored breathing. Your diagnosis of large cell lymphoma had been confirmed a few weeks ago and the vet prescribed prednisone, but your Pa and I could feel lumps all over you weeks before that. Hard not to get all tangled up in woulda/shoulda/coulda, but after 14 years of being the best teacup schnauzer that has ever padded through these parts, we are grateful for all the days spent as a family. Your sister would agree, too, even though I'm sure she prefers to maintain that cranky demeanor that we could all see right through. I've envisioned the two of you engaged in a lively chase, then a round of wrestling, as soon as she recognized you trotting across that Rainbow Bridge. A sunny place where the two of you can play and play and eat endless treats and never again be in pain.

I've blown through a box of tissue typing these sentences. It was just a few hours ago that we drove over to the vet for your final visit. You were light as a feather in my arms, covered as you were in your long, silky salt and pepper hair (which is still on the calendar to be cut this weekend, so I need to make a phone call once I've finished this post.) There are no more doggies living in our house that need regular hair appointments and yearly doctor exams. Those are the milestones that will keep me feeling out of balance now that our home is a canine-free zone. It has been years since we've lived without four-legged children. The holidays have lost a bit of sparkle and shine, but I'll endeavor not to become maudlin as I stare at the schnauzer ornaments hanging from the tree. You and your sister have enriched my life in so many ways, and I shall recount and contemplate all those memories you've helped to make over sugar cookies and eggnog in the remaining days of 2022. (And speaking of days, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention how sad Nana is that your shared birth month and day will now be celebrated by only one of you down here on planet Earth.)

We love you and miss you so very much, Lily Luna.

Arrhythmia

So traumatized Chuck still works the mines.
A poet's soul with hardened arteries.
The company doesn't pay Chuck for his turn of phrase and artist's heart.
It's a tough task to write the perfect stanza when crafted in the arc of a headlamp.

A Unifiable Theme

To make something beautiful is a lifelong pursuit.
Keep edges rough.
Lines are suggestions on where they should be crossed.
This is a love letter to your unfettered spirit.

It is the rough edge of one's work that establishes merit.
Beginning. Middle. End.
The order in which the dream is conveyed is inconsequential.

Mastery is misleading. Know when to write the final sentence and then walk away.
One's engagement with your creation is not the reason why you got into this game.
You've dictated the rules. Now go help someone else find her through line.

Challenge everything that makes you feel in control.
To understand one's desire is a trial of the soul.

Summer Lovin'

August is here and I'm thinking of you as always. Summer 2022 has a very 1970's vibe as I've returned to the activities that brought me joy as a kid: writing scary stories, banging away on my guitar and all things Star Wars. Yup, nostalgia is in right now. How go things where you are? Down here, so far, there have been over 40 100-degree days. Yeow! Definitely weather a thick-and-curly-haired girl from Lynden is just not used to. Sister Lily is full of mischief at 14 and taken to crunching up every discarded cicada exoskeleton she can find in the backyard. I remember you used to chew on the newly emerged ones that were trying to figure out how to fly. Oh, and a bunny rabbit ate my Jack Pine seedling that I'd set out on the patio to soak up some sun. My meager attempt at reforestation, but I will try again to grow a tree from seed. At least I took a couple snapshots of the baby pine and its bright green needles. However, we do have a peanut plant flourishing in one of the flower pots thanks to a forgetful rodent. Peanut blossoms look like yellow sweet peas. We'll see how bountiful Farmer Squirrel's crop turns out to be. Nature is, more than ever, my refuge since the news amps up my anxiety (i.e.: the planet's on fire, state legislators want to be my OB/GYN and polio is back.) But you, my beloved rambunctious pup, are a constant companion as I move through my days. Happy crazy runnin' along that endless stretch of sea and sand, little buddy.

The Limitations of Expertise

Who's story am I allowed to tell? Can I hand over free rein to my imagination so it can wander unchecked as it dictates the rules of an existence lived outside of my skin? The safe play is to write what I know; access to opportunities and the freedom to consider more than one path in life. Does my background translate into an echo chamber, or an offensive display of privilege? Either way, not much of a page turner and closer to a head-scratcher.

What’s it like to be human? I think I can speak to that experience with some level of expertise, but what’ll it take for me to offer a more inclusive narrative of who we are as a species? Here today and destined to become a memory, if we’re lucky. Stardust, at the very least.