Today, I was reminded of my "Water & Light" notepad book, compliments of the City Utilities. I use it to jot down moments and the layers of meanings in so much. That's life. Here are a few:
The white horse picture of the Apocalypse rears above my
computer reminding me of Grandma's wall. The flashlight-beaming
eyes of the rider scoped the room where a furtive 13 year old girl, who
argued with her sister, even to this day, squirmed. Grandma Faye knew
the Holy Spirit convicted. And she would watch me with a smile
because I looked cute in my warfare agony.
My feet are on an Oriental rug,
and "Ode to Joy" is being played
on the piano. The light fully brightens
and forges a paper shadow which right
sashays and quickly skips back to the left.
A lovely piano instructor friend counts
time and smiles back at me regarding
my son's musical impetuousness. Today
he's striving and ordering and being a
bit shadowy on a page. However, he's
a teen, and I'm being too
I called upon my son and he
disappeared into the hallway for
the ritual bathroom break. As I
taught, he stayed away, and I imagined
him circulating various rooms in
the cavernous church finding another
lonesome piano needing just one
plunk to make its day.
I could have poured out
a thousand lessons,
a million verses,
a score of aphoristic advice,
however, we sat and drank lattes,
my experiential ex-student and I,
and then vistied art galleries.
She made plans to buy a repulsive bug
necklace which didn't concern me.
St. John's Hospital -- all roads lead here.
The Bible verses on the wall reassures;
the XL nun portraitures on the wall
overwhelm; the cream sparkled tile
leads you on and down and around until
you appear in the doorway of the
designated room full of hope
that your mother is eating her
rolled-tray morning meal.