I have a part-time job working with my cousin, who is developmentally disabled. Her name is Judy and she has Prader-Willi Syndrome. Yes, I know… you’ve never heard of it. Unless somebody you know has it, you probably never will. I wouldn’t have heard of it either if I didn’t know Judy.
In spite of her challenges, Judy is very easy to get along with. Part of our routine is for me to take her to the local YMCA so she can get her exercise. She does stretches for her back (she has Scoliosis and Hyperkyphosis, not to mention Osteoporosis), and she usually walks 20 – 45 minutes on the treadmill. Today we got to the “Y” around noon, and we went back to get a treadmill right away. The place was empty, so Judy had her pick of the machines. She chose her favorite treadmill (treadmill #1), and she was soon off and walking.
I usually stand nearby and read a magazine while she does this, and today was no exception. I began reading a copy of People magazine until I realized it was a Spanish Edition. I can read a little Spanish, but an entire magazine of it is pretty worthless to me as far as reading material goes. After scanning over the pictures I traded it for a copy of Newsweek. I opened it on a window ledge, leaned forward, and began reading.
The window looks out the back of the building, where they have a large outdoor swimming pool. Trees surround it, and it is a rather nice and secluded area. Nobody was out there, which was a bit unusual since it was noon on a Saturday and almost 90 degrees outside. The pool is usually packed under such conditions.
Soon after I began reading I noticed a rather attractive woman walk out and head towards a lawn chair by the pool. “Cool," I thought, “A little something to spice up the view”. She began to disrobe from her street clothes, and it was then that I noticed that she was pregnant.
This put a bit of a damper on my “sightseeing” attitude. It isn’t that pregnant women can’t be sexy or beautiful, because they certainly can. But when a woman is carrying somebody else’s child, it usually takes away any desire that I have to feel lustful towards her. Call it guilt or call it respect, I don’t know. Either way, my initial reaction was quickly tempered by this revelation to create a more respectful appreciation for her physical appearance.
I watched as this beautiful woman walked over to the pool and began lowering herself in slowly, allowing time to adjust to the water as she did so. In between snippets of magazine I would glance up and note her progress towards the center of the pool as she gradually waded out in the shallow end.
It was during one such glance that I noticed the expression of pure serenity on her face. Her eyes were closed, and her face was lifted slightly towards the sun. A gentle smile was on her lips, and her fingers dragged along the top of the water as she slowly glided through it. She was completely content, and I imagined how nice it must feel for her to have the pressure on her lower back eased by the buoyancy of her stomach in the water.
I suddenly became entranced by this voyeuristic vision of motherhood.
Although the scene did not physically change, in my mind it transformed entirely. I saw the first woman -- call her Eve or call her Lucy - I don’t care -- wading in a crystal clear pool at the dawn of humankind. Trees were surrounding her, a waterfall was behind her, and small rocks and reeds lined the shore. She was casually wading in the water; no fear or knowledge of death, no sense of loss or need, and no hatred or anger of any kind. The only thoughts in her mind were that she carried a child, that she would soon be a mother, and that all was right in the world.
Her expression literally brought this image to my mind in an instant.
I was so caught up in the moment that I didn’t even notice my friend John, who works at the club, walk up next to me and lean into the window to say hello. I was instantly snapped back to reality, and I began to make casual conversation with him. Shortly after that, Judy’s time on the treadmill was up and I went over to help her down. As the two of us headed over to the mats to do her stretches, I took one last glance out the window.
She was still there, and she was still radiant in the sunlight.
Futility
My words
cannot give justice
to my thoughts
My thoughts
cannot give justice
to my feelings
My feelings
cannot give justice
to my existence
And so I put down my pen
and write nothing at all
cannot give justice
to my thoughts
My thoughts
cannot give justice
to my feelings
My feelings
cannot give justice
to my existence
And so I put down my pen
and write nothing at all
Requiem
His dark, flashing eyes
Burn holes through the mirror
And expose the universe beyond
Their intensity and fire
Give life to the shell
Of the weakened body below
A body drained of energy
By a deep, unquenchable longing
For intimacy and love
And all the while
Fingers slide over the fretboard
Bending and teasing the notes
Later, plugging his ears
He heard his heart stop
And he awaited the sparkling darkness
Burn holes through the mirror
And expose the universe beyond
Their intensity and fire
Give life to the shell
Of the weakened body below
A body drained of energy
By a deep, unquenchable longing
For intimacy and love
And all the while
Fingers slide over the fretboard
Bending and teasing the notes
Later, plugging his ears
He heard his heart stop
And he awaited the sparkling darkness
Tree
Glancing out my window
Tall, majestic tree
Dancing in the wind
Bending in the breeze
Memories of childhood
Lying on the grass
Noisy, rustling leaves
Clouds drifting past
Days at the pond
Water sparkling bright
Evenings in the neighborhood
Running in the night
Longing for my past
And wishing things the same
But the view out my window
Is all that remains
Tall, majestic tree
Dancing in the wind
Bending in the breeze
Memories of childhood
Lying on the grass
Noisy, rustling leaves
Clouds drifting past
Days at the pond
Water sparkling bright
Evenings in the neighborhood
Running in the night
Longing for my past
And wishing things the same
But the view out my window
Is all that remains
Dream Lover
I had a dream about you again.
We were on a beach, swinging on a swing set as a distant storm was rolling in from the ocean. I let go at the top of a swing and flew through the air, landing on the ground much harder than I had expected. As I laid there on the sand we laughed at how foolish I was, and how I was probably too old to be doing that sort of thing. Then, mindless of the approaching storm and the increasingly agitated ocean, we talked about our childhood dreams. You sat there on your swing, dangling your legs in front of you and kicking a hole in the sand, and you were beautiful.
I wish I knew who you were.
We were on a beach, swinging on a swing set as a distant storm was rolling in from the ocean. I let go at the top of a swing and flew through the air, landing on the ground much harder than I had expected. As I laid there on the sand we laughed at how foolish I was, and how I was probably too old to be doing that sort of thing. Then, mindless of the approaching storm and the increasingly agitated ocean, we talked about our childhood dreams. You sat there on your swing, dangling your legs in front of you and kicking a hole in the sand, and you were beautiful.
I wish I knew who you were.
Bacon
He always had his preferred brand of bacon, with one or two backup options if needed. Never Hormel though.
I remember how he would go through every single package in the store, looking for the one with the most meat and the least fat. Often he would select two or three packages as likely candidates, and then ask my opinion as to which one was the best. Unless money was tight, he would usually buy two of them at a time. When he got home he would put one in the freezer, and then trim the fat off the other one and put it in his Tupperware container in the refrigerator.
He always loved bacon, and breakfast was his favorite meal. Toast, sausage, bacon, eggs, hash browns... he loved them all. "The most important meal of the day," he would say. He would get a headache if he didn’t eat something shortly after he woke up.
I found the bacon in the freezer, just where he left it. Not wanting it to go to waste, I thawed it out and I’ve been eating it.
Today I finished it.
I've come to realize that there is a hole inside me that will never be filled now that he is gone. A part of me that has been with me since before I even knew who I was is missing, and it will never be replaced.
He is gone, and now his bacon is gone too.
And I will never be the same again.
I remember how he would go through every single package in the store, looking for the one with the most meat and the least fat. Often he would select two or three packages as likely candidates, and then ask my opinion as to which one was the best. Unless money was tight, he would usually buy two of them at a time. When he got home he would put one in the freezer, and then trim the fat off the other one and put it in his Tupperware container in the refrigerator.
He always loved bacon, and breakfast was his favorite meal. Toast, sausage, bacon, eggs, hash browns... he loved them all. "The most important meal of the day," he would say. He would get a headache if he didn’t eat something shortly after he woke up.
I found the bacon in the freezer, just where he left it. Not wanting it to go to waste, I thawed it out and I’ve been eating it.
Today I finished it.
I've come to realize that there is a hole inside me that will never be filled now that he is gone. A part of me that has been with me since before I even knew who I was is missing, and it will never be replaced.
He is gone, and now his bacon is gone too.
And I will never be the same again.
Tormented
The feel of a hand
So worn and strong
A final exhale, impossibly long
Words left unsaid
At a hospital bed
Too late, the moment is gone
Two brothers cock fists
At each other’s face
Crossing a line
That cannot be erased
And me, an old man
Full of unfulfilled dreams
Wasted potential
And silent screams
So worn and strong
A final exhale, impossibly long
Words left unsaid
At a hospital bed
Too late, the moment is gone
Two brothers cock fists
At each other’s face
Crossing a line
That cannot be erased
And me, an old man
Full of unfulfilled dreams
Wasted potential
And silent screams
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