Mistakes and Regrets

 

The clock in the living room chimes nine, and I am still in bed. Highly unusual.

The morning sun warms my bedroom through the still closed curtains, yet I continue to lay here, considering my mistakes...

·       Thinking I could wear a slinky dress at age 55. I imagined myself looking sexy but when I caught a glimpse in the mirror, I simply resembled a boa constrictor that had swallowed a writhing prize-winning pig.

·       Buying an e-bike and trying to transport it to the trailhead on the back of my 2010 Honda Fit. The weight of the bike damaged the frame of the car and now the car tires scrape the undercarriage.

·       Buying a large bag of Brussel sprouts at the farmer’s market without knowing how to prepare them - and throwing them in the trash before leaving home for a long weekend. Neighbors called the police thinking the smell was from a decomposing body or a septic leak in my apartment. I can still smell them on humid days.

·       Trusting Kevin. That is my biggest regret of them all.

I met Kevin during an online gaming competition. We were opponents and my team won the tournament trophy along with the hefty cash prize. He later messaged me through the tourni forum with congratulations and said he admired my skills. We chatted back and forth for a couple of weeks before he suggested we meet in the real world. I said yes. We exchanged photos and agreed to meet at a diner near my apartment at 6:00 the following evening.

Getting ready for my date with Kevin, I was nervous. What to wear? Well, I knew I wouldn’t be wearing a slinky dress. I settled for a nice shirt and khakis, my usual kind of outfit. I curled my hair, dabbed some foundation on my face and dotted my cheeks with rouge. Ready.

He was already seated when I arrived and waved me to his booth. He stood as I approached and kissed my cheek before we slid in on opposite sides. He was pale, but nice looking with neatly trimmed hair. He wore a polo and khakis, similar to me. We had such a nice time eating our burgers and chatting, comparing notes about different games we enjoyed. At one point, we both reached for the ketchup at the same time, and our hands touched. It was electric. He let me use the condiment first.

It was almost 8:00pm when our waitress gave us the bill and a pointed look that indicated she wanted us to cash out and skedaddle. I suggested we continue our conversation at my apartment, and Kevin agreed.

We strolled the two blocks through the late summer twilight. He held my hand. I thought we might have something special. Something real.

I invited Kevin to have a seat on the sofa in my little living room and asked if he’d like a glass of wine. I had most of a box of rosé in the refrigerator. He said that sounded good. So I poured two glasses. We talked more about work and gaming and life. I excused myself to use the bathroom and when I came back, Kevin had poured us each another glass of wine. Mine tasted a little funny, but I’m not a big drinker, so didn’t think much about it. Until I got woozy.

Now, lying in bed in the middle of the morning, head pounding, I’m sure Kevin drugged me. And left me, still wearing my nice shirt and khakis, tied to my bed. I see that my tournament trophy is missing, and my purse has been dumped out on my dresser so I’m guessing he also stole my cash along with my credit cards. I wonder if he took the rest of the rosé?

Will anyone come looking for me? If they don’t, I hope I won’t smell like rotting Brussel sprouts.

River

Breeze ripples across the river,

angels wings dipping low

before lifting off to shimmer

aspen leaves on shore.

Smiles reach our faces. We are

refreshed in body and soul

in this grace-filled place

surrounded by the natural

and the sublime.

Rise

Water drips from the ceiling, echoing through the rock chamber. I shift in the dark crevice that contains my body. The smell of an ancient river rushing below the rock reminds me that some forces never die even though they may remain unseen for lifetimes.

There's been no light since the candle burned out last Tuesday. No food since the Saturday before that. It's hard to track the passage of days without sunlight or moon's shine but I think today is Thursday.

I reach for the candle stub, wick long extinguished, and bring it to my mouth. Drops of precious water tip onto my tongue. Teeth tease a tiny bit of wax into my mouth. I swallow. At least it will be something in my stomach.

I'm glad the villagers left me that much before abandoning me to my rocky tomb and consigning me to full dark, a sacrifice for their collective protection.

Footfalls shuffle outside the cave door. Light bursts upon me and I rise, lifted from the cold, hard floor, up, up, above the ground, vision restored and senses clearing, knowing what I will do next.

And fire rains down. 

Misty

 

When I was a child, probably about seven years old, my family  acquired a cat named Misty. She was beautiful, sleek, short haired, gray with white paws, and I loved her with my whole heart.

She came to us as a kitten and over the years, brought several litters of her own into the world. This was during the 70s when cats were allowed to roam at will, and she apparently had several suitors. These tiny babies armed with sharp teeth, needle claws and heart-rending mews had us all wrapped around their tiny little paws. My sisters, brother and I wanted to keep each kitten from each litter and mourned them when they left for other homes.

Misty was a prolific hunter. We’d see her stalk across the yard in pursuit of a rabbit or mole or chipmunk. She’d sometimes surprise us with trophies from her conquests, like a chipmunk head or finch corpse on the back doorstep.

As much as she liked to be outside, when she wanted in, she wanted in immediately. There were times when she climbed the screen on my bedroom window demanding admittance. If I didn’t see her right away, she began yowling, all the while glaring at me.

Eventually Misty exhausted her nine lives and left us for kitty heaven. I like to imagine her there, reunited with all her babies, and hunting to her heart’s content.

Exercise

Edwina exercised her right not to exercise. She leaned against the wall, a sour look on her face.

The noise in the gym was deafening. Grunts and shouts echoed and caromed from the wide walls and high ceiling. The pervasive smell of sweat and desperation made her faintly squeamish.

Edwina slipped the cell phone from her pocket and checked to see if she had any messages. None. At least none that got through the dense walls of this particular nightmare. She would love nothing better than to walk out the door and head home, but she had promised Margie that she’d have lunch with her later. It wouldn’t be feasible to go home and then come back, so she’d just have to wait.

Her mind wandered to the first time she had beheld this room. At first she thought group exercise would be fun. Maybe she’d make some new friends. But, it just wasn’t for her. She was more of an intellectual than a jock. A book could keep her happy for hours.

A shrill whistle pulled her back to the present. “Edwina, over here,” shouted a tall man in short shorts. She sighed and walked toward him, sneaker-clad feet dragging and squeaking as she went. Maybe gym class would be better in first grade.

 

Go Fly A Kite

Every Easter my siblings and I would receive kites from the Easter Bunny. First thing after dinner we would head to the park four blocks away to assemble and fly them. It was a great park for kites, open with few trees on which to snag the string.

This Easter I treated myself to a new kite, higher quality than the flimsy plastic K-mart kites of my youth. I assembled it over a few days’ time, careful and meticulous with the wingtip nock, standoffs, spars and tail. The tail could make or break the kite’s ability to soar and twirl and dip.

Yesterday I drove to the park of my youth, only to find that it now contained an aquatic center, skate park, soccer fields and baseball fields with nary enough space to gain the speed needed for launch.

I got back in the car, my kite placed carefully on the back seat and drove to find a suitable space. None of the parks would do, but I did find a lovely unplanted field. I didn’t see anyone around and since I would do no harm by merely running across the field and watching my glorious kite lift into the semi cloudy sky on the ample breeze, I figured the owner of the field wouldn’t mind.

I held the spool of string in one hand and my kite in the other. I ran into the wind until I felt a tug on the kite and let it go, moving both hands to the string. I watched the kite soar as I fed the string out. It lifted higher and higher, soon becoming nothing more than a speck in the sky.

I must say I was shocked when the kite seemed to develop a power of its own, or maybe it optimized its hold on the growing wind. The string was fully played out but securely tied to the spool which I gripped tightly in both hands. I was lifted off the ground and raised to the heavens, following the kite across the field and further into the countryside, feet skimming tree tops. Below I saw a patchwork of fields with tiny houses and barns. Cows were slow moving dots on the landscape.

What an amazing experience! I guess at some point, I’ll have to figure out how to get down, but for the moment, I was flying and living my wildest dream.

Soothing

 

Soothing is…

 

A cool hand to my warm brow.

Hugs when my mood flags.

An understanding nod during

times of confusion.

 

Encouragement in the face

of disappointment.

Love and compassion during

times of hatred.

 

Ground when I become a ball of

misfiring electricity wound

round and round by circumstances

beyond my control.

 

A tender kiss upon my forehead

at the end of a hard day.

Orange and pink on the eastern horizon

at the start of a new day.