July

Fireworks lit the sky
Laced with little lies,
I’m too dry-eyed to cry
Contemplating good-byes.

Are you still mad at me?

~N.

It is hanging on, uprooted and replanted for a third time. I am like this vine, with the appearance of being half dead deceptive. Life still flows through the dried out twigs, follow the path to green leaves and blooms.

The plant went to my sister’s in Salem, Ohio, when I moved into a high rise apartment building without any outdoor space of my own in Youngstown. She later moved to Michigan, left the plant with her son. Then my mother dug it up and brought it up after I bought a house on the south side. The vet helped her plant it near the concrete angel that, I assume, marks the grave of an unknown pet. And it is, despite appearance, hanging on… still alive.

I’ve yet to plant Mr. Marsberry, his ashes still in a can.

The clock ticks. Thanks for reading.

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Bird in the Bush

What’s that saying… a bird in the bush is worth two in the hand?

No… it’s the other way around, something about one in the hand is better than two in the bush. Unless, of course, you look at it from the bird’s perspective.  I assume that birds value freedom and try to avoid captivity.

I spotted a red bird, a cardinal, land on a branch of this red leafed bush; then it blended right in. I tried to keep my eye on it as I quietly cracked open the screen door just wide enough to slide my phone out to snap this photo, but I must have startled it as I don’t see it there… do you see it anywhere?

That sad spider plant is slowly making a come back… I tried my damnedest to kill it (not on purpose, Jai). It’s been accidentally knocked off stands by grandchildren, dumped out and everything; but, it is still hanging on.  M takes full credit for nursing it this far back to health, gleefully reporting on the slightest progress, but I think it likes hanging out in the fresh air within the security of a jute hanger.

My leg is slowly mending. It is easier to rise up from a seated position, but that knee is still weak and muscles above and below are tender, tight, and sore. I have to watch how I move it, every step is precarious.  I have a doc appointment later in the week so it will, eventually, be examined. Odds are that I will be referred to a specialist and/or signed up for physical therapy again.

It still blows my mind that the X-ray tech was the ONLY person at the ER who actually saw my knee or touched my leg. I was wearing jeans. I also realized something else… since no one else bothered to even look at my leg, that ER doc prescribed medications without examining the patient.

Two in hand, hand in hand, I’m thinking about that red bird.