So, tonight I watched the end of "Jagged Edge" - a classic late 80's movie.

I have always loved the last line of that movie - Robert Loggia, the hardened detective.

Somehow it sums up the last 20 years of my relationships with men, who purported to be my friends, lovers, whatever, (with one notable exception, Oli).

The line is " Ah, fuck him, he was trash".

Yep.

Oh Queen of Heaven, Rejoice

So many things stick with you from childhood. In a good way. Oh Queen of Heaven, Rejoice, Alleluia, Alleluia, for He, whom thou didst deserve to bear, etc etc.

I think this grounding is so important, and is being lost. Lots about dogma is wrong, but it is helpful to children, I think, giving them a base, as long as they have, as my parents did and do, and open mind to change.

Frankly, the shroud stands between me and complete disbelief, so perhaps that was the intended consequence. Ya gotta wonder.

Nerve Sheath Tumor Redux

Lili's Nerve Sheath Cancer has returned. I'm not treating her this time; I simply can't bear to carve up her leg anymore, plus there is almost no flesh left to excise as far as margins around the tumor, and she will be 14 in August. Her joint is pretty much frozen anyway. So we're passing our time, she and I, and treasuring it. She's still smiling, a crazy 13+ year old nut, canters along stiff legged. Spoiled girl, even though she CAN get up the ramp to the deck, she stands outside and barks for my help, which she doesn't need, just wants the reassurance of my hand on her ruff.

Rough.

But I'm blessed with this extra time with her. When we went through the three surgeries and radiation, it was almost four years ago now. The cost and anxiety (great on both counts) was worth every day I've had with her since.

The Judas Kiss

So, one of my closest and oldest friends just threw me under the bus recently. He blew up 26 years of friendship. I've been his rock, his confidante, his business partner. But he got offered more money elsewhere. Which would have been insulting enough, but the WAY he scuttled away is appalling and deceitful, plus his running off at the mouth to those who do NOT have my best interests at heart have left me with a peck of trouble.

Where do I park betrayal? It seems to be the gift that just keeps on giving. Sold out for a few more sheckels. Or those pesky 30 pieces of silver. From someone who has described himself as my closest friend.

Never. Saw. That. Coming.

Breathing

I know how to breathe from my diaphragm.

That deep breath that supports my frame,
my voice, my

self.

That deep breath.

It has been my constant companion.

I sit outside this cold December night.
I watch my breath
blossom like cotton candy against the wine dark sky


And hope I can breathe you out, once and for all.

You and I both know,
this is the land we call nowhere.

We hang on to little pieces, thinking maybe
it is enough.

that we can make it sufficient.

But life is not made of little pieces
and

no matter how tightly or loosely held,
little pieces are never enough.

And so I watch the vapor of my breath
on the cold air.

I watch the way it vanishes

breathing you out.




© Nancy A. Smith
2009

Oh, how I wish I had written this! Other writers humble me!


I have tried hard to have appropriate feelings

I have folded them away like sweaters.
Kept my distance from the moon, visited the sick.

I am proud of the life in my head. Nobody knows
the garden I've seen. I am tender with the suburb.

Some days even the ceiling worries me, the way
it keeps the roof on.

I only cry when the polar bears get to me.
The ones stranded on the melting ice.

Otherwise I'm kept in line by the steady curve
of my driveway, the tight fists of the roses. I can easily
converse
about the sweet peas and our eventual disintegration.

The sky has more to say to me than I could
ever hear, given the restricted space between
houses. Frogs sing at night and the whine of the train.

When moths circle the porch light
I think they might be coming for me.

Susan Denning
By Permission

I will post her bio as soon as I can get over the technical difficulties.

The Greatest Generation

Courage is Fear holding on a minute longer.

George S. Patton