One Day

imageSome days you’re only one of many, many stones.

Some days you’re the stick, balancing it all.

One day you’ll find you’re neither one.

You’ll stand up, brush off the sand, and walk away wondering what all that was about.

One day, you become yourself.

UniverseCheck.

Photo Credit: Anita Bowen Photography

 

Moth at Midnight

The full moon lit the hallway at midnight. I was still half asleep when I stepped out into the hall and was groggily surprised to meet a man with a sword. He was side-stepping, cautiously toward the bathroom; I was just thirsty.

And there was my son, looming tall, home for Spring Break, and armed in the middle of the night, laughing quietly.  Of course.

“It’s in there.” He whispers gesturing with, what I see now is, a wooden kitana. The sword, I notice blearily, has been improved with the addition of a ruler attached to the end. It’s clamped to the end of the sword, clamped with a Staples alligator clamp. Of course.image

“It’s really big and it’s so loud.” He grabbed the flexible ruler and twanged it with a sproing sound. “Aren’t you glad you sent me to college?” He laughed.

Okay, I’m barely awake and not prepared for these kind of deep questions. I just want a drink of water. I kind of don’t want to know what’s loud and threatening in the bathroom at midnight. I don’t know what you plan to do with the sproinging Kitana to subdue the invader.image

I decide I’m not equipped to face the upstairs bathroom and whatever has taken up residence and turn to forage downstairs for a drink. It might or might not be water at this point, it’s too weird upstairs.

But, my son keeps laughing quietly as he stalks the bathroom and I see his hand-crafted distance weapon. But, in the other hand, I see a cup. “It’s a bug.” He whispers.

He’s planned ahead. One hand defends himself from the creepy, loud bug; the other hand is for mercy. He intends to catch and release the bug, whatever it is, into the night.image

Aren’t you glad you sent me to college? We both laugh in whispers. I take the cup and he covers me, leaning into the doorway above me. I trap the spooky moth and we release it into the moonlight.

One hand for protection, the other for kindness. Aren’t I glad? Yes, yes I am. Of course.