Old Beginnings

Ajooma and Mary Kate went with me to a gallery downtown this afternoon. We went to check out a display that my employer sponsored for current and retired employees in an annual art show. There was a separate section where the literary submissions were displayed like beautiful artwork. It moved each one of us. Ajooma and Mary Kate told me it was one of their favorite parts of the whole display.

One thing I hoped would happen when I started this blog is that I’d get back to some creative writing. I used to love writing – particularly short stories – but I got away from it for years, and I miss the feeling of finding, arranging, and feeling the words. It feels good to get it down, even if it doesn’t mean much to anyone but me. But I figured, if that was one of the hopes for the blog in the first place, why not share something?

Quiet Longing

“Feel however you feel,” she says
when I tell her I feel silly
for feeling silly.
“I won’t ask you anything
if you don’t want me to.
But if you do,
I will.”
I turn up my lips
in as much true appreciation
as I can muster.
Even though we’re in private,
my countenance is
the one I show
in public.
Calm. Preoccupied, perhaps.
But nothing more.
When the door closes shut
behind her,
and the television
is nothing more
than background noise,
I drop the countenance.
I let the tears and wine
flow freely.
I feel how I feel.
And I wish
she was here
to ask me.


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