They say music is one of the last things your memory loses if you are cursed with any form of dementia. I can totally see that having played “oldies” when visiting my mother. It was like she stopped at a red light, stunned, her eyes would widen and she seemed to know. Sometimes she would hum or try to sing the lyrics like one of her favourites by Judy Garland that we all know so well, Somewhere over the Rainbow.
“there’s no place like home”
clutching Toto, she taps her
ruby red slippers
I remember first time I skated with my mother and sister. Mom and my sister were so darn adept on their skates…they could actually stand up witout wobbling! I must have been about four wearing dark brown leather skates that folded at the ankle, so my body rested on the leather rather than those blades. But my mother was so patient with me…chubby me, clumsy as could be…no side boards to hand on to …just low snow banks after they had shoveled a personal skating rink just for us on the river behind GrandMaman’s house. I must have been wearing my older cousin’s skates…boy’s skates to boot!
I later managed to stand up on better skates but wobbly I was. One night when I was about 12 the river was cleared of snow and my uncle wanted to go out skating with his girlfriend…well! I decided to tag along this romantic venture…but I did stay back several feet…it was a full moon, we skated across the river…whoosh…scratch…whoosh, whoosh…the moon was so bright we could even skate to the little inlets…I was a bit worried the ice may not be as thick but still felt safe following my uncle…my hero. What a guy to let his niece tag along on this magical evening. I will never forget that night…whoosh, whoosh…scratch…whoosh, whoosh…wind blowing softly on my face.
children giggling
wobbling on the ice
river holds
hands clasped
lovers glide on the river
under a full moon
whoosh whoosh
blades scratch the river floor
frozen in time.
Solitude may not always mean sadness, it is simply being alone. Many times it is by choice. It is interesting that loneliness, isolation, seclusion and privacy are synonyms found for solitude. I suppose if it is not by choice it can be painful and lonely. However, if it is by choice, it is almost a refuge, a place to breath, collect one’s thoughts…create, compose. Perhaps when we know of someone who is living alone, we could ask if they feel lonely and not assume all persons living alone are unhappy. I love people; I am a very social person and love to laugh and enjoy the company of friends and my children. I also love my “alone” time where I can hear myself think. The silence sometimes screams …those are often my thoughts waiting to be put “on paper”.
Since the passing of my mom, I don’t feel the same aloneness I felt leaving work, walking with a heavy step after a shift…I feel a presence, a shadow that quickens my step, removes a load off my shoulder…I feel blessed…in her grace…shadow of her love.
Walking home
under the umbrella
skies weep
skies weep
souls scream shedding despair
bleeding,
I no longer walk alone
her shadow comforts me.
shadow comforts me
arriving home alone
my cat purrs
my cat purrs
lingers by my laptop,
hushed whispers
hushed whispers
I’m here if you need me
no longer alone.
Tournesol dans un Jardin 