For want of rain

Empty benches sit on a lonely beach. A man in a yoga pose reaches for the sky as if praising the moment as the clouds slowly roll in. A circle of white stones in the sand lies close to his feet and I wonder if he is the one who created the round form, like a bull’s eye, strike here it seems to say, forlorn and empty and waiting for the rain.

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It has been weeks since a drop has fallen and I go there on a whim to be a part of it, this approaching storm and the water lies calm this morning, not yet nine and only a few other souls stand watch with umbrellas in hand, waiting too. The birds fly overhead as birds will do on ocean winds and I try to capture them but when I see the after effect, they seem like words falling aimlessly off of the page.

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For want of rain we venture here, as the skies darken and I feel my mood suddenly lighten as the skies grow thick like molasses and there is a light cool breeze that cuts through the humidity. The traffic these days has become easier as the snow birds have flown back up North once more. I fly no more. I am grounded here in my ocean breeze and this is home now, and instead, leaving only my thoughts to soar on the wind like a gull so high above and I can close my eyes and just imagine what it is that they see as they look down at these empty benches where a short time before on sunny days, there was no place to land, and I stand here on this sandy dock with my camera capturing things that strike me as necessary. This is my life, here where fair breezes blow and birds fly into skies till no longer seen and castles wait to be built in this home by the sea. Welcome friends to my world.

100_1575.jpgAll images taken by me this morning on Venice Beach Florida.

The life

There was a moment in life, a yesterday unlike any other and I see the numbers and do some addition, realizing that “that was then and this is now” and that’s okay, somedays it still gets so hard to wrap the mind around it all.

Things change daily and I think the biggest block we trip over, stubbing our toe almost daily is the fact that we can’t go back to “there” because we’re different now than we were then.

I remember the Scrabble games, how you drove me crazy just trying to keep my mind in shape on days when I felt it melting in a puddle of chemo chemicals and I knew you’d let me win to make me feel good, and it did feel good for awhile, but that was then and now we play for real and I never did like competition and I turn and walk away, don’t want to play no more because now I have my faculties and I choose to let it go, it is just a game of wooden tiles….if you knew how I longed to see you use them as smoking wood you would laugh out loud. Things are fine and as I dance like a fool for a smile from you we can just be, us, here and now enjoying each moment that comes along because baby, that’s life and as I sit here listening to the cicadas and you talk to those from yesterday that makes your heart soar, I know you’re happy, right here, right now.

This is the life, the path we’ve chosen and it’s good. It’s so very good and I don’t need a Scrabble game, stupid game I say with a smile as we sit together every night feeling the balmy breeze blow and we have love, and we have health, yeah, we have everything and I couldn’t ask for more, wouldn’t want to really, for this is our life….and it’s enough in its simple perfection. Double word score baby. I think I know now why I grew to hate that game so much. It was a reminder of when I wasn’t in control, when my head ached to remember and I couldn’t, of when I wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring. I’m okay with that, but still I wonder, what to do with the Q?

Dreams of a child

My sand castles were nothing,

Scooped up mixture of mud and sand

In a square box, 

A memory of a tired land.

No dreams of far off oceans

Nor a prince to rescue me,

I had no dreams yet, They had not been born

Yet my sand castles were something

I just didn’t know it at the time,

They were a part

Of who I’d become.