Welsh Witch

His name escaped her lips between a whisper and a sigh,
Years pass in fragmented silence after friendship dies,
Her life still has no answers and she still wonders why
He slips into her dreams before the mourning dove cries.


I have two unfinished drafts waiting for me to click publish, one political and one personal, and both can wait. My mind has been on an old friend all day, with a soundtrack of Rhiannon playing in my head and I don’t know why. He was wearing a well-fitted black suit with the white artist shirt that he lost years ago, much younger than he is now, tall and slender, when I saw him in a dream a few nights ago. He smiled and nodded, didn’t say a word. I woke up feeling the deep ache that comes with lost friendship. It comes with the knowing that I will never hear his voice again. That I will never see his scrawl on an envelope tossed into my mailbox. In his mother’s words, “That’s Life.”

Then today. I spent the day online researching demolition debris. Yeah, for real. Don’t ask… will explain later as right now, I have too many questions without answers. But, that’s kind of what THIS is… it’s demolition debris from an old friendship that got demolished, smashed to smithereens, and occasionally a fragment washes to the surface. The soil of my life is contaminated with memory and emotions.

I need a Rhiannon, an old Welsh witch with three little birds… come sing me to sleep so I can wake up feeling whole again.


Mind Shift

Stepping back or to the side even just a little bit can render drastic changes to how you view things… sunlight filtering through tree branches may shift from being a glare in your eyes to a dance of light and shadows across lush, colorful textures of moss and bark.  It’s time to do a mind shift, to step back and look at everything from other angles so I can see what is going on here from other perspectives.

From one perspective… it is this song:

Change the word “mom” to “man” in the lyric that goes “I don’t get angry when my mom man…” and that’s what is going on here… and I’m waiting (again) for him to “come back to me” as he’s been MIA since yesterday morning. Oh, he did call last night, melting my irritation on “hey beautiful…” Sheez. Thing is, “life is too short so love the one you got” and I know he really does love me, even when he is three sheets to the wind before nine.

Step to the side a bit… what changed recently?

Frequency. What used to be once or twice a month comes faster and harder now.


COUPLE DAYS LATER (waking up alone again): Shift again… what am I forgetting?

Duh… he doesn’t live here… total complete brain shift.

Okay, so let us examine the facts… ignore that he has been here at least 330 days of the past year, has a lot of clothes and stuff here, does chores here, cuts the grass here, has keys to the doors and acts like he lives here… does he actually, really truely officially, live here? NO… he has his own apartment downtown. Does he get any mail here? NO… his mail goes to HIS address. Does he chip in or pay any of the bills? NO… he pays the bills for HIS place. Considering that he would be the first to say that you are supposed to “pay where you stay” and credit his dad for teaching him that lesson soon after he got his first job as a teenager, by his own rule or definition, call it whatever you want, he doesn’t really live here.

I’m going to have to mull this over and think about it for awhile.

If he doesn’t really live here, I need to stop thinking that he does… is this the beginning of the end? Can two people go from living together (or thinking they were living together) to NOT living together without one thinking that the other doesn’t want them?

I don’t know… time will tell.

Thanks for reading.

Fair Exchange 

I’m fighting to get my health back, good day follows bad, then lightheaded and dizzy again. Vertigo came hard last night, triggered by putting my head on a pillow, so I sat up awhile noting that the dull headache vanished when the world was spinning.

Doc has me pushing fluids… drink more water, follow a heart healthy diet, take my blood pressure daily and keep a journal of symptoms.

I’m beginning to think that I am being poisoned so I ordered a carbon monoxide monitor, the type with an led display that can track readings instead of just sounding an annoying alarm, and then ordered a gas sensor for good measure.

NEXT DAY:  Woke up before 5am and laid in bed just thinking for awhile. Clarity is amazing. All the little things that independently don’t matter start to come together in a mind space devoid of emotion, rearranging their selves like free floating, rotating jigsaw puzzle pieces seeking proper alignments. As each piece clicked into place, I said, “humf” out loud. Then I realized the vet was also awake and figured I’d best get out of bed before I say something I might regret later.

I need to think about this for awhile because I don’t like the picture.