I’m in the country this week minding my son’s dogs and cat. Heidi (German Shepherd) and Mia (Golden mix) are sisters and they are like two giant peas in a pod. They play together, sleep together, eat together but compete to get petted of course. And GiGi, the Persian could care less about those giants. She does her own thing. She loves jumping on the kitchen counter and drinking water straight from the tap and pleads with me daily. My son warned me NOT to do that since it took him months to have her finally drink out of a bowl. Since he leaves the kids for ten to twelve hours, he would not want her to dehydrate. It is so tempting though to indulge the little thing, like Nana giving too many sweets to the grands…that is exactly how I feel with these pets.
It is a long trek to get to work for me but the peacefulness here is palpable.
It’s Mother’s Day and I keep thinking backwards and then forward…I miss my mom but i see her in me, and through me and through my children and love her for keeping her spirit alive in all of us. She is in my children and grandchildren…loving them so so much.
It’s that time of year again remembering uncooked chocolate pudding and toast in bed each grain of powder saying, “I love you Mom” ceramic paper weights paper doilies macaroni necklace…
I remember picking dandelions and drawing pictures, gluing absorbing cotton clouds hearing her voice singing songs with made up words laughing with delight and childlike joy running her fingers in her curly hair hugging me, whispering “I love you, darling”
After a long night sponging the sweat off her patient’s face, she felt her grip her brown spotted hand. “Ne t’inquiète pas…ça ne sera plus long ma fille, pousse fort une autre fois à la prochaine contraction.” * But then her weather-beaten face frowned…a tear rolled down her chin. The silence was deafening as she placed the white sweet smelling cloth over the young mother’s mouth while the father took the lid off the shoebox.
shuffling home weather-beaten hands holding a shoebox
Our host, Chèvrefeuille says: “This month our central theme is “on the trail with Basho”, because Basho was a traveling haiku poet as e.g. Santoka Taneda was in his time (1882-1940). This month we will (try) to follow Basho’s journeys through Japan. And this first haiku which I will share here is from one of his earlier haibun (or travel-journals), “The Records of a Weather-Exposed Skeleton” (Nozarashi Kiko) in which he describes his journey together with his disciple Chiri along the places described by Saigyo, Basho’s great role-model;”
Walking home with her grandson after a wonderful day in the city, she could not help but admire the sky. Once, her grandson was sound asleep, she read about the sad news…such a loss in the world of haiku. And then, she understood the mysteries of the sky tonight.
dash of white clouds stand out in the night sky
dash of white clouds
splash of goodness
wings of an angel
stand out
seventeen syllables
more or less
in the night sky
greets an angel with a smile
crescent moon
Walking to work on avenue de Gaspé, she looks at the trees just starting to bud. A seagull screeches overhead. She smiles and wonders if he is announcing to his buddies of some overturned garbage can.
one lone feather on this city street where’s the white dove?
one lone feather
message from above
dearly departed
on this city street
searching for leftovers
doves and gulls
where`s the white dove?
Maman, es-tu vraiment là?
ma belle, Colombe
life is what she writes about,
liaisons and love affairs,
rife of erotic passages,
relations…some, short-lived,
brief encounters lost too fast,
she’s wept so many salty tears
grief stricken beyond her years
yet, memories of lovers lost
beget in her sweet moments
where pain and suffering will exhaust
and only images
that burn her cheeks
and warm her heart
shall trickle into heated
words in love poems.
(troiku)
first kiss – after,
a decade of solitude
stuff to write poems
first kiss – after,
too many years
like riding a bike
a decade if solitude
spiritual cleansing
looking within
stuff to write poems
always a good tragedy
love, lust and heartbreak
E is for Emerald and my mom’s favourite colour was green makes this post all the more meaningful. When I think of the word “emerald” however, I also think of Emerald City in the land of Oz which was the famous dream of Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. I was quite surprised when I read that this children`s book was published in 1900, written by Frank Baum and illustrated by W. W. Denslow. If you look at the illustrations, you can see the characters in the movie (1939) were pretty darn close.
Every October the movie played on television when I was growing up and my father would call my sister and me to come watch the movie with him and my mother. It was a tradition, sort of like The Sound of Music was with my children and other holiday classics.
Ah that Emerald City was the place where Dorothy would get all her problems resolved and get home to Kansas. How I loved her red patent leather shoes!! And the famous phrase was on the lips of many after a long trip, “There’s no place like home, There’s no place like home.”
No matter how many times I saw the movie, each time I would still fear that wicked old witch and her soldiers and those trees too!!! Oh, my goodness!!
I never realized how much that movie became a part of me until I was a young adult and read The Exorcist by William Peter Blatty and every night I was so scared of the devil (being Catholic we actually feared being possessed!) for three months after reading this book, I would cross my arms over my chest and repeat “I don’t believe in the power of the devil, I don’t, I don’t, I don’t” I became the Lion that lacked courage at 20 years old! I never could see the movie…if ever it was television and I turned the channel on that movie by mistake, just a few seconds hearing a deep voice coming out of that little girl, I would have nightmares for days! Yep, that’s how scared I was.
Emerald City was such a place to be and I loved the part where Dorothy is getting all prettied up ( my mother being a hairdresser made it even more meaningful). My mother loved Judy Garland (who played Dorothy) and even when her dementia was very advanced, I would sing Somewhere Over the Rainbow and her eyes came back to life.
Photo: Cheryl-Lynn Dec 2013, Montreal on my way home to the Métro
Interestingly as I was looking for a word synonymous with never forgotten, I heard the voice of Nat King Cole crooning “unforgettable” in my mind, and just knew, Mom was near me at this very moment.
Tournesol dans un Jardin 