not your average writing
I keep reading this poem, over and over. It caresses my soul and puts vivid images in my mind. Mary Oliver, you are my inspiration… I had the line from the song, My Favourite Things: “… wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings,” going through my head. It’s my favourite line from the song, so I did Google search for imagery, and her poem was the first thing that came up. How fitting. Thank you for this day.
I rouse often, beginning with short bouts of restless sleep disturbed by vivid dreams.
Then at last, I am awake, set free from the turbulence of my mind.
I greet the darkness, the silence, the peace … everyone nestled in their beds.
I hear their slow, tranquil breaths — the sound of sleep’s mercy.
The cat meets me as I rise; he perches on the chair’s arm rest.
He looks out the window, beyond the sense of time, and we search for slumber against the light of the screen and stars.
As the clock approaches daylight, a single bird’s cry pierces the air.
Morning is breaking but my spirit is not.
Although sleep has left me alone, the world surrounds me with grace and beauty.
The dark sky softens to a grey haze, then a light blue…
Possibilities surface with the glow of the sinking moon.
As I witness this transition,
I close my eyes.
I am always grateful and feel a lump of sadness in my throat as I watch Remembrance Day videos and listen to the recitations of In Flanders Fields. But today my thoughts are distracted by someone else, someone who I do not know.
Last night I heard what sounded like a car backfiring really close to my building. I was sleeping and the sound jolted me awake. I fell back to sleep and thought nothing of it. Then I heard loud voices outside, got up and went to the balcony. I heard a lady yelling near the high rise behind our building, “Are you okay?” It was dark and I couldn’t see anything. Again, I shrugged it off.
A few minutes later I heard sirens and saw flashing lights in the parking lot in front of the high rise. I couldn’t see through the trees, so I crouched down to peek through a space between them. I saw a firefighter performing CPR on a lifeless body. Then an ambulance arrived and blocked my view. The police were scurrying around, putting up yellow tape and asking bystanders questions.
The ambulance stayed for a really long time. Then it pulled away to reveal a blanket covered mound on the bloodless asphalt. Whatever happened resulted in the death of who I am assuming is a man, from what I could see when they raised the blanket to search the body. The police were asking people who were looking over their balconies to go inside their apartments.
Then the firetruck left and the body stayed there for what seemed to be the longest time. The coldness of the air and somberness of the moment beckoned me to go back inside. I don’t know what happened but judging from the timeline of police presence and lack of blood, there was no foul play involved. I’m guessing the car backfired, and literally frightened him to death, causing him a heart attack. I checked Google and there was no mention of anything on the local news channels. This morning the area is cleaned up and peaceful, as if nothing happened, and I imagine the shock felt and tears shed by his family members. I mourn the loss of this man, who probably had no idea he would die yesterday morning when he woke up.
Last night was just another day for the firemen, paramedics and police officers. Another death, another dollar. They probably shrug this off, desensitized to the imminent pandemonium. Or maybe they aren’t, I don’t know how they cope. But seeing the cold face of death on a stranger strikes up thoughts of disbelief and wonder. I want to know what happened. Not only that, but I feel sad at the thought of someone so young unexpectedly losing his life yesterday.
Imagine this one incident in the hundreds and thousands, as in the battles of yesteryear and even today.
I cannot wrap my head around it all or make sense of it right now. All I can do is mourn and be grateful to those who willingly sacrifice themselves every day, whether it be on the front lines in a foreign country, keeping the peace in unsettled countries, or braving the streets of our own country.
Let’s be as still as the morning air and remember.
My son is an only child. So many parents of multiple children ask me when I’m going to have another, if I’m going to have another. I say no. They look at me with such a deep sadness as if I’m the worst parent in the world. One lady whom I didn’t even know, at a party, said, “Oh, that’s not very nice of you, raising one child by himself.”
Why is having one child so bad? My son is socialized, went to day care for three years, knows how to talk to people, shares when other kids come over, and is a bit shy at first, but then comes out of his shell. I am the youngest of six children and was so painfully shy for the first 16 years of my life. Having siblings did not make me happier or outgoing.
My son has just started grade 1. His best friend who was also in his kindergarten class last year has started going to a different school. My son spends a lot of time by himself at recess as a result. People tell me he’s a loner because he’s the only child.
What’s wrong with being a loner? So he’s not super outgoing and social at six years of age. Like I said above, I was the youngest of six children and was also and still am a loner. So many people who as adults are loners hated the pressure to be outgoing when they were children and welcomed adulthood when they could do what they wanted with their social lives.
Besides, having siblings is not always a good thing. The University of Michigan School of Medicine reports “that violence between siblings is quite common. In fact, it is probably even more common than child abuse (by parents) or spouse abuse. The most violent members of American families are the children.” Sibling rivalry can not only be abusive, it can play on your insecurities with competition for attention and perfection. My brothers and I were always competing when it came to marks in school and performance in things like music recitals. When you’re the only child, you only have yourself and your parents’ confidence in you. There are no comparisons.
Susan Newman, Ph.D, writes in her article, Is Being an Only Child a Problem? “There is virtually no evidence to suggest that being an only child leads to any problems, or any more problems than any other type of upbringing. For every only child that might be overly shy, there are siblings that have not spoken to each for a decade.”
Being an only child is not wrong. It is just different. And it’s okay.
References: Boyse, Kyla. “Sibling Abuse.” Michigan Medicine, University of Michigan. November 2012.
Newman, Susan. “Is Being an Only Child a Problem” Psychology Today, November, 2018.
“
My heart aches with joy,
as the lines on my face sing to you.
My worn hands hold you
with a delicate grace
that can only restore
as your mouth trembles
and cries out,
reigniting the embers of my soul.
The moist air around us
breathes your breath
and beauty.
Drops of life
fall ..
beating
beating
beating
against me,
pounding sometimes,
racing
away from me,
until you are
your own.
I watch the rain fall
onto dark, slanted streets,
unlike the days of old
that were filled with blue, sunny skies
and snow-glistened sidewalks
I heard her scream last night.
Her cries echoed against the mighty cranes
that stood watch under the moonlit sky.
Their eyes follow me
as I walk by, no cash in hand,
so I say,
but I don’t say.
I just keep walking,
hoping their image will go away
as I focus on my destination.
They are the writing on the walls,
paintings on the sidewalks,
seeping into the pavement cracks,
but they come to life when you look at them.
This is the place to be,
don’t you know?
They travel here to see the Great Lions,
but they are animals,
just like those
who have put them here.
The darkness looms over us
and traps us with its gnarled hands.
Somehow
the cold concrete soothes her scarred and burning face.
It is a place she calls home
for now.
blaak sheep 