I face

Home again.  The cat is happy.  We text and call back and forth with our daughter. Today we clean out and return the van to Enterprise.

I face

My daughter’s first days,

As I remember

My own:

The speed of new life

With new people,

New possibilities;

The draw

Of the old familiar,

The old comfortable shoes

In the closet,

The pile of kitchen floor tiles

On the back patio;

The tiles we now use

As a table,

Of sorts,

For garden tools.

These are her first days,

I remember my own:

The swiftness of new life;

The learning how to breathe

With new people,

New possibilities;

The draw

Of the old familiar.

Acceptance

Our brain is a funny thing.  It is wired for survival.  Sometimes we need to work at re-wiring.  Saber-toothed tigers, after all, do not wait around the corner these days.  Our brain is an interesting thing.  It is also wired to learn new things, see new possibilities.

I sit with a client

She feels rejected

By the world.

I wait for her

To feel rejected

By me.

I imagine it will come.

Like me

She wants to learn

How acceptance

Lurks in the bushes,

How acceptance

Lives next door,

How acceptance

May even be found

In the cereal aisle

Of the grocery store.

Like me

She wants to learn

To find the places

Acceptance hides.

Choices

I had lunch this week with a potential colleague.  Every such encounter offers me options, choices, if I allow them.  Every encounter with every person we meet offers options, choices as well.  Way open, way closed.  Options.  Choices.  A veritable cornucopia of possibilities.  Some of them are mine.

I have options

She said

Before she left my office

And moved out again

Into the world.

I have options too,

More than I have named

Until now.

Every choice I make

Opens up the possibility

Of something new.

I delight

In helping people

Find the connections

They need

To take their next steps,

To see

They have options

Like me

Like the woman

Who left my office

To move

Back out

Into the world.

Trying on possibilities

Spring rain... finally.  April showers... hooray!  My daughter's prom dress came in yesterday.  It is lovely and requires someone to help zip it up the back.  Today I try on more possibilities.

I try on possibilities

Like my daughter

Tries on dresses

For the prom,

Asks me to help

Zip it

Up the back.

These things

Absolutely require

Assistance.

I try on possibilities

Ask others

To take pictures

From the front

From the back

From the side

Look at pictures of others

In the same possibility

In the same dress

Figure out

Whether this one

Suits me

Or not.

Pretty good flosser

Home again with clean teeth.  As I sat in the chair, closed eyes, mouth open, I considered what possibilities the day contained.  I found out that I am a pretty good flosser, which, in the land of my birth, Minnesota, is as good as it gets.

In the dentist’s chair

All I have to do is

Close my eyes,

Open my mouth,

Hear how my flossing

Was

Pretty good

Over the last six months.

I consider

The world of teeth

For a brief time,

Return home with teeth

My tongue now finds

Smooth,

Plaque-less.

I return home

With the words

That I

Am a pretty good flosser.

Really I know

The tooth cleaner

Says that

To most everyone.

After we have cleared away

I must be a trial and error sort.  I will not renew the LPC or the CADC.  They are not necessary to do what I am called to do.  I will still draw upon the knowledge and the resources I gained in acquiring them.  The burning bush is still beautiful when it is bare.  Birds come to roost.  The neighbor*s cat knows it is holy, even without its leaves.

After we have cleared away

The things we do not need

The horizon goes on

As if

Forever.

Possibilities gain

Sharper definition,

Page after page

Of a coloring book.

Page after page

Of outlines,

They only require a medium

To be selected:

Color crayons

Watercolor

Sepia tones

Perhaps pen and ink

Maybe even broken bits

Of mosaic tile

To fill between the lines.

Possibilities gain

Sharper definition.

Sometimes

After all is cleared away

It seems we have been painting background

All along

And now

And now

We can see individual trees

In the forest

And now

And now

The birds are no longer hidden

By the leaves,

They sit on the branches

Of the burning bush

Which barely burned

This year.

And now

And now

Leaves gone

I see the neighbor*s cat

Sits underneath.

I have my own list

What could I possibly do alone?  This is a question to ask an introvert?  I have my own list.  Trust me, I am not bored.  I miss my beloved, in Florida with his parents.  I miss my daughter, coming and going to the Concert of the Year all weekend.  I miss my son, living in Minnesota.  Yes.  Bored?  No.  I have my own list of possibilities.  I add things to it all the time.

They were worried

I wouldn*t have enough to do

While they were gone.

My family.

I love them.

They left me lists

Of things to do

So I would not

Be bored

While they were gone.

My family.

I love them.

I have my own list.

It comes to me

In the silence

Of the cat

Kneading his paws

On my lap;

The cardinal

Singing the day in

And out.

I will shop for new pajamas

At Target

This evening

When I am not

Cooking dinner.

I will browse IKEA tomorrow,

Find a side table to hold the tissues

In my office.

I will watch people

The whole time.

Even now I sit and hear the train whistles

Blow loud, then softer

Then they disappear

Entirely.

I have my own list.

I add things to it

As I do them.