Where did the time go?
little that pitter
patted to shoes that
gape and click.
and monsters to scare to
looking up for hugs
Where did the time go?
From loving huge
and huger still
cords fraying and
knowing well of the
hopes and dreams
Where did the time go?
Life’s shorter and heart’s
bigger to hold memories
warm from the sunshine
of your smiles
I drank you in—
swam in your
dove to your
kicked to your
I inhaled cerulean—
tasted salt on my
wrapped myself in a
until your finiteness.
It dawned on me today that it’s been a
long while since I’ve gone from “in a relationship” to “it’s complicated.” Time for a Facebook update.
Maybe you know what I’m talking about–the frustrating hours and time spent
communicating talking with someone only to realize that he or she just doesn’t get it (apparently, they never will).
Could be that your personal investment in the
one sided relationship fling and the cold awareness that the other person doesn’t care as strongly about you as you do for him (or her) becomes your final wake-up call.
Whatever the deciding factor is that tips your relationship to “it’s complicated” and a looming break-up, know that you’re not alone. There are hundreds of thousands of us who know what you’re going through with Comcast and we’re here for you.
Today is it. The unknown stretches out like a blank canvas awaiting an artist’s brush. Our waiting will probably entail more waiting . . . for test results.
Even though this anticipation has been lurking in the shadows for the last month, we had a great time celebrating life, independence, and personal freedom yesterday.
Positive thoughts and prayers are appreciated as we move closer to knowledge and, hopefully,a negative biopsy for dad.
Here’s to great U.S. doctors, amazing medical technology, and all of the things and people we take for granted (sometimes)! May we be reminded of wonderful people in our lives and strive to tell them daily, through our words and actions, how much they mean to us.
I gave birth, years ago, to a baby boy. A child who, when I was pregnant with him, had his nights and days mixed up (especially during my last trimester) and one of the only ways he was lulled to sleep was by my movements, specifically vacuuming (yes, I had very clean floors). Who, when I was pregnant, caused me to crave espresso, Jelly Bellies for breakfast and tangerines late at night. Who told me, with little kicks, that sleeping on my left side was unacceptable. I must sleep on my back ever so slightly shifted to the right (I was and still am a side sleeper). So much time has passed since those first years of sweetness (and sleeplessness) yet, if I allow myself to be swept along with my muses, I sometimes end up with snippets of my past carefully cut out with blunt edge scissors (like the way my children used to create their handmade paper valentines or snowflakes). My past, filled with children, innocence, laughing, crying, healing, loving, draws me in and permits me little glances backwards, a déjà vu of sorts. A tiny window framed by whitewashed memory, no glass, which I may peer through and view this other world (just for moments at a time). I am amazed, perplexed, astounded when I think about the day I met my son and held him in my arms. I feel as if I have bitten into a lemon, halved and dipped in sugar, when I acknowledge how many circles those minute hands have traveled since the early days. My life was altered that morning. In the birthing experience, there was an imperceptible shift in my core, my soul, my breath. Life was not ever to appear static again. There was no grabbing the clock’s hands and halting them. The button was hit and life began to fast forward.
When you were born, I loved like I had not loved. I experienced life in a new, beautiful way that was hidden from me prior. You changed my life in such a manner that I questioned whether I had ever known love before. You were, and are, my son. I am grateful to call you this today. Happy birthday my man-boy!
With much love,
Okay, I know love letter fest is technically over. HOWEVER, I could not resist posting two, short letters exchanged between one of the most romantic, literary couples (Robert and Elizabeth Browning) ever (in my book THE most romantic, literary couple). Of course, Elizabeth wrote my favorite poetry collection, Sonnets from the Portuguese, for her husband Robert Browning and I believe them to be the most beautiful poems (especially numbers I, XIV, XX, and the best, XLIII). So enjoy and keep that passion alive every day, not just on Valentine’s Day!!!!
To Elizabeth Barrett Browning:
…would I, if I could, supplant one of any of the affections that I know to have taken root in you – that great and solemn one, for instance.
I feel that if I could get myself remade, as if turned to gold,
I WOULD not even then desire to become more than the mere setting to that diamond you must always wear.
The regard and esteem you now give me, in this letter, and which I press to my heart and bow my head upon, is all I can take and all too embarrassing, using all my gratitude.
– Robert Browning
To Robert Browning:
And now listen to me in turn.
You have touched me more profoundly than I thought even you could have touched me – my heart was full when you came here today.
Henceforward I am yours for everything.
– Elizabeth Barrett Browning
you are movement always
changing torn by gravitation’s
effects moon earth sun
time scales years or hours fluctuate
forceful oscillating currents that
reverse or cease
underwater bathymetry and
coastlines tease play with you
yet you remain mostly untapped
energy unable to be harnessed your
strength not bridled I ride you
nights bathed in silver light
swept along by your haste your
determination galactic vigor set in
motion I am unable to resist
my nautical charts dampened
unreadable I succumb to your ebb
flow and biological rhythms
© Pamela A. Rossow