Lavender mist

I understand smell is the only unmediated sense we have. It goes directly to the brain. This morning I woke up with lavender and thoughts of my daughter in Scotland. Maybe I should be smelling heather, but I do not know if heather has a smell. Instead I smell lavender and go to find the lavender spray.

I lie in bed,

My eyes shut,

The covers pulled tight.

I smell lavender

Even though

There is no logical place

The smell comes from.

I remember my daughter

Now in Scotland.

She sprays lavender mist

When she is here.

I smell lavender.

I go in search

Of the bottle of lavender spray

So I can continue

Remembering.

Do you remember?

A range of memories, this one from years ago on a vacation trip. Ah, the things we do in our twenties. Still, we met the best Chrysler Mechanic in Montana. 

Do you remember

When the night was falling

In Montana

The car headlights

Growing dimmer

And dimmer

We thought we’d never make it

Yet still

We pulled off the road

Found a place to sleep

Ir smelled of cigarettes

But the owner knew

The best Dodge Dart mechanic

In Montana.

He agreed to take a break

From his hunting trip

To fix our alternator.

Do you remember

That trip?

The lights growing dimmer

And dimmer

Yet still

We made it

Yes

We made it’

We barely made it

Off the exit  ramp

In the dark.

To hear

Thank you, my friend (you know who you are), for the lovely green, bamboo imprinted batik with this quotation from Le Guin's Earthsea Trilogy. A worthy reminder.

To hear,

   one must be silent.

-Ursula Le Guin

I know this

Until I forget.

I am prone

To forgetting,

Until I remember again.

This seems the way

It goes:

Knowing

Forgetting

Only to remember again.

I build buffers of silence

So I can hear.

I stop speaking

So I can hear,

Maybe then

I speak.

If I remember.

Haikus

I woke up a lot last night. I wrote haikus in my head to go back to sleep. I remember some of them were good. At 6 a.m. I realized I forgot to take my evening pills. So I took the important ones, cleaned the cat box, and went back to sleep. The haikus have all gone to that place haikus live. I remember when my son was five or six he would stress at bedtime about possibly forgetting something. What if I don't remember? he would say. I would sing him bedtime songs.

I wrote haikus all

Night. Woke up with haikus. Now

Don’t remember one.

Reminders

There's a reason this blog is named what it is. It's largely so I remember. Sometimes I find that it helps others remember as well.

I write reminders

To myself.  All will be well.

All manner of things.

Pit orchestra

Twice

I was in

The pit orchestra

For Man of La Mancha.

My hands remember

The fingering

The rhythm

(Almost flamenco)

For the guitar part.

High school

And college productions.

So long ago.

My hands remember.

When I close my eyes

I remember

The sheet music,

Stored in another part

Of my brain.

I think of Dulcinea,

The street woman

Rescued as a maiden

In distress,

A street woman seen

As a damsel.

She saw possibility

And love

In Quixote’s eyes.

My hands remember

The guitar part for

Little Bird, Little bird,

In the cinnamon tree.

The only time I sat

On stage.

My hands remember.

My heart remembers.

It might have been

Yesterday.

Memorial Day

We each have our own interpretation of days such as this. Each of us with our own memories, our own interpretations. No right. No wrong.

This is a day for

Remembering, oh so much,

Each one to her own.

The song

Odd. What is that song? Perhaps I am not meant to remember. It was rather pleasant to have the crowd making up the words. Perhaps my next vocation is as a song leader.

The dream has me

On a small stage,

Filling in for another singer.

I strum my guitar

But don’t remember the words

To the song.

The crowd makes up words,

Sings along.

The song never comes to mind.

I wake up

To words

From

What have they done to the rain?

That was not the song

I was trying to remember

But maybe it will do.

Charlie

In honor of Charles Greaves. He now waits with Jesus and all those who have gone before for the world to finish its act of being made new. He was a gift to me.

Yesterday

At the end of the morning routine:

The coffee

The writing

The consideration of spring

Finally arriving,

The robin,

The ducks out back,

The red male cardinal,

Contrasting now

With emerging green,

Yesterday

At noon

I learned Charlie died.

The funeral was at two.

So we went to the service.

At the beginning

Of my venture into counseling

Charlie told me

He could see it

Me

Sitting with people one on one:

Me

The one who brought him

Into my office,

Shut the door,

Told him he could not behave

The way he was behaving.

He listened.

I left soon after

So I never knew if he really stopped

Or maybe sort of stopped.

I wore my collar to the funeral

In honor of Charlie,

Sat in the back row.

A ladybug landed on the bulletin

Walked the entire edge

Top to bottom

Then back to the top.

Perhaps it was Charlie

Showing me he now knew

About boundaries.

No.

I know it was Charlie.

Now he is free.

Clipping back

More metaphors today.  He reminded me of vineyards, of pruning for growth, building walls to strengthen and protect, allowing for the possibility of better fruit.  Let my yes be yes, and my no be no.  Who knew?  Another prayer.  Amen.

I finally clip back

The clematis.

It will come back strong

Come spring.

That’s the promise.

This Advent

I sift and sort,

Pare and prune,

Tie up branches

That need

To be strengthened.

I put evergreens

With the winterberries

In the black olive vase

To remind me of green,

Lest I lose sight of it.

I clip back,

Sift and sort,

Pare and prune,

Tie up branches

In need of support,

Place green

In indoor spaces

To help me remember.

What I saw and heard yesterday

Some days there is so much to remember, so much to be appreciated.  If I had known it was ginkgo day, I would made a ginkgo tour.  The alphabet en espanol brought back memories of junior high. Then there was the orange peel angel.  I will have to figure out where she will live in my office.

The ginkgo did

Its all-at-once shimmy of gold. 

The sea of yellow fans dropped,

Always

A one-day pleasure.

Inside

The Spanish class

Learned the alphabet

Twenty minutes at least

Of ABC

All the way to end

Over and over.

I saw.

I heard.

In between

I was gifted with clients

Words and presence and even

An angel

Made of orange peel.

I remember the owl

There's something about owls... all owls, really.  Last night the great horned owl (and, I think, his mate) hooted as the night came on full.  I left the back doors open, put on a sweater, until they went off to do other things.

This morning:

I remember the owl,

His hoot

As the dusk paled

To dark

Last night.

This morning:

The passing faint smell

Of skunk,

The freight train

Rolling rolling rolling.

This morning:

The morning birds

Are quiet

I remember

The owl

In that fading light.

Counting moments

These days I am considering my life as a child, remembering in my bones, remembering in my sinews.  As I watch blue jays in the back yard, I remember my first or second blue jay, a wonder of a bird.  There are wonders still to be unpacked from my past.  I return to counting my age in days.

I return to counting my age

The way every small child does.

I am

Fifty-nine and a third

Plus two days.

Each moment counts,

Doncha know,

Each moment counts.

I count mine.

Bongo Board

There is so much to learn from everyone I encounter.  It*s all dialogue.  Yesterday I remembered the Bongo Board we stored in the closet off the living room when I was growing up. I remembered I was good at balancing on it.   The board lived in that living room closet.  The closet also stored the dress-up clothes.  One memory unpacks another.  I remember new things I*ve forgotten.

God sends me people.

They struggle with things,

They dance with things,

I need to weave

Into my life.

When they leave I think

Oh that*s why you came.

When they leave

I think

Until I remembered to say

That one thing

Out loud,

Until you named

That one difficulty,

Until you told me

About that particular

Dance partner,

I forgot.

Yesterday was about balance,

Bongo boards,

And God inhabiting

Everything.

God sends me people.

They help me remember

New things

I*ve forgotten.