Delusions

Take the blinders off
And see you for who you are.

Are you one who revels in the simple joys,
the here and now, the miracle of each new day?

Or wallows in despair
for past hurts and wrongdoings;
of yours and the others.

Is your future bright
like a babies peek-a-boo smile?

Or dull, like murky water,
or old pennies tossed aside?

You can spout truth and justice,
right and wrong; it's all black or white--
but you're juvenile in your claims of self-denial.

I know your secret longings--
your transgressions,
deny them all you want.
I see them in your eyes,
feel them in your thoughts.

Let go now of the past--
of what holds you apart.
Be the one you want to be.

Not the one you are...

The Porch

Early this year we moved into a new house. It is beautiful, and big, big enough for all of us and a couple extra, for our pets and all of my books. I was so excited to have space to move in and a huge yard with trees. I loved the front porch but didn't figure on spending a lot of time out there because we were on main street, which is actually a major highway going through Nebraska. And we were right across from a busy gas station. I didn't want people looking at me, being nosy or hearing us talking. I thought I would spend most of my time in the back yard... Boy was I wrong.  

I guess sitting on the porch started with the kids. They were so loud in the house playing the wii with their friends I had to escape. So, out to the porch I went... and they followed me. From then on we were out there everyday.

I have watched dancing contests, sing-offs, and hula hooping on that porch. I have read to my kids our favorite stories, combed the girls' hair, cut my dog's hair, watched the most amazing summer storms, and counted to ten, or a hundred and ten there. I have joyfully hugged old friends hello there, and tentatively met new friends . I have tearfully said good-bye to best friends, and close family, and the way things were. I have danced with my dear husband, to no music at all there. Shared confidences, condolences, and outrage. Held my breath calling to see if my brother's cancer had came back and cried with joy when I heard it hadn't, on my porch.

I have waved to every acquaintance and stranger from my porch, watched people come and go from all over the country at the gas station, and counted trucks loaded with wheat go by during harvest. I have decorated it for Halloween, the first real holiday we have had here. I have silently cursed time, and the way things have to be, on my porch.

 I have laid on it soaking up the last of the sun's summer rays with my wonderful children, knowing that the season was drawing to a close. That by next spring they would be older, would possibly not have the same friends, or interests. Thought that maybe we wouldn't even be here to enjoy our wonderful porch.

Yesterday, I stood there and watched the first snow of the year fall. The seasons are definitely changing, not only with the weather, but the seasons of our life. Friends are moving away, the children are finding new hobbies and interests, more family has moved to town. I am already planning how I will decorate my porch for Christmas. I am trying hard not to be sad about the passing of this season of our lives, trying to look forward to the future and the wonderful, unexpected things it might hold in store for us. Like the unexpected joy we have found while on our porch...

A Beautiful Fall

A few days ago I took the kids and a couple of their friends to our little lake to fish and hunt for frogs. It was the ideal autumn day... warm with just a hint of chilly breeze every now and then.

The smell of the leaves was crisp in the air.

Down by the creek we had the perfect background music.

The kids were so happy and joyful. There were no electronic devices, no squabbling over who's turn it is on the computer, just the simple unmarred beauty of the lake and innocence of childhood.

I thought that if I could just bottle up the day, the smells, the sounds, the peace; if only I had that to open up and live again whenever life became too much, when it all seemed hopeless...

But then I realized that if I could make any rough day so wonderful, it would no longer be wonderful. I would not be able to appreciate those rare glimpses of my own utopia. And so, I have only my pictures, and my memory to relive that special day... And it is enough.