Sharing Friendship

Friendship is like

Sushi

It is like the sunset at Point Reyes after a long day of hiking

It is like that promotion to assistant manager

It is like a flat tire on a dark country road

It is all of that and more

It is Success

Fear

Joy

And tired exuberance

Wrapped up in seaweed

It is

And will always be

Best when it is shared

Which is why I let my seven year old daughter go into her room

Shut the door and

Stay in there for forty five minutes

And upon being given back my phone

Simply say

Hi mom

A Mother's Braids

Arms folded

Like …

A Cossack soldier?

An airplane passenger in an emergency situation?

An undecided b-boy?

A parent expecting dissapointment?

Braids twirled up on top of her head

Like …

A young Helga secretly posing for Andrew Wyeth before he was born?

Princess Leia frolicking on Endor among the furry little Ewoks?

A woodland fairy resplendent underneath her crown?

Smiling a gap toothed smile

An impish

Reluctant

Gap toothed smile

Sitting next to her doll

Slightly slumped in a chair in her own living room

And wearing a cute little sun dress

Accentuating knobby knees and long legs

Like …

Any young girl

Like her granddaughter

Like …

Every other picture of her

From straight down over a knit poncho to afro perm to chemo smooth

From gap tooth to multiple crowns

From then to know

Seventy years worth

Defying categorization and chronology

Triggering a love in me

Like …

No one else

Learning To Swim Again

Can you drown in a stream of consciousness?
If so I am worried for my son's safety
I can throw him a rope
But I can't grab it
And screaming from the shore has not proven to be very effective
Thus
Up until now
I have given up trying to be very effective while
Watching
Directing
Cheering
Wincing
Waving
And shaking my head in amazement
In addition to screaming
But if you can drown in a stream of consciousness
I may have to give up on being ineffective
I may have to put on my swimsuit
And jump in
Just a little more often

Tracks In The Snow

Three hours in
And it's still falling
Everything still covered
Under an unbroken blanket
Not a blemish
Track or
Footprint
Anywhere
It's like the perfect blue sky
Painted onto a canvas and
Just waiting
Waiting
Waiting
For a cloud
For a bird
For a dream
And I hope it's not mine
I suppose some folks need only their own footprints
To follow
To examine
To keep them company
But that's not what I'm looking for
Waiting for
Not anymore
Not now
As the snow continues to fall
Three hours in
No hint of the blue sky that will
Follow
And Wait
For us

winter standoff

mushroom stuck in mouth
won't go in and can't come out
no more snow outside

the difference of distance

the window helps with
enjoying the snow but not
so much with kids

the limited power of snow

in less than an hour

snow concealed it all

outside of the house

the mid-winter reflections of a parent

snow falls differently

reflected in your green eyes

then it does outside

I like to bake my cake ... and eat it too

I like sneaking out to the refrigerator at night and

Absconding on tip toes back to my office with a piece of cake that fills my plate

Regardless of the size of my plate or

The consequences

But                  

I get a lot more out of baking it

Which I suppose is why it shouldn’t have surprised me

To see my son and daughter there on the platform

Alternating between

Standing right on the edge of the yellow line  

Bending forwards at the waste with head cocked to the left

To peer down the tracks at anything that seemed to move

And

Bouncing about with huge smiles

To no discernible end whatsoever

Now it is true

That they were in slack jawed and open mouthed awe of New York City

But never again that day

Not emerging from the subway station into Times Square

Nor Watching taxi after yellow taxi zip past

Did I feel like I was upstairs in one of their bedrooms

About to head down the stairs

Into the darkness

On pins and needles and

Tiptoes

Eager to see up close

Just what was in the stockings

Under the tree

Bake a cake before you eat it and

You’ll understand

Why Making Major Life Decisions Is Hard, But Shouldn't Be

I’ll have tuna and cheese

Yeah, a melt

With a little mayo

On wheat bread

What?                    

Do I want lettuce?

Sure           

But if I have lettuce

Maybe I’ll drop the melt and go with turkey

Yeah, sure, roasted sounds good

But do you have whole grain white bread

No?

Well,

What about chicken

Yeah, I’ll go with chicken

No, no tomato

Yes, keep the lettuce

No, no mayo now

I’ll go with mustard

Spicy brown mustard

What’s that?

You have Dijon too?

Ok, Dijon it is

Do you have avocado?

Yes, excellent

I’ll have avocado and chicken

Avocado and chicken

Wait a second

You know

I think turkey would go better

And hold the mustard

Yeah, mayo would be great

Right, sure

Let’s see

That would be turkey, mayo, avocado on

What kind of bread did you say you had?

Ok whole wheat

But you know

In that case

I’d like tune

Tuna and mayo on whole wheat bread

With cheese

A melt?

Sure, then drop the mayo

But keep the avocado

Yup

Sounds great

What’s that?

Chips or apple slices?

Divergence

What I wouldn’t do to find myself

Standing in the woods

At the point of divergence of two roads

Rather than standing on this hand cart

Smack dab in the middle of a switching yard

In the early afternoon

Having skipped lunch and

Having only used the extra time

To scoot around some more in the yard

Peering down the various tracks

Into the distance                                 

Into the horizon

Not a yellow wood or

Bit of undergrowth

Anywhere in sight

Peering and

Staring and

Looking and

Hypothesizing and

Dreaming

Because

I’m standing out in the sun

Not at the mercy of shadows and wild beats and

Because

After all

It doesn’t make any difference

Way always leads on to way 

The Skeletal Day

Water

After breakfast

Banana

Yogurt covered pretzels

Pistachios

Toast with butter

Water

Apple juice

After lunch

Cookie

Apple

Blackberries in soy milk with sugar

Water

After dinner

Cake

More cake

Cracker

Toast with butter

Water

The Discomfort of True Love

It felt like I was lying on a small branch and

I’m sure that could you have seen my eyes

You would have seen the eyes of a Lion

When his mouth is open as wide as he can get it and

His beloved trainer’s head is inside

It was practically circus worthy

But for the look in his eyes

When he sized up my head and neck for an opening and

Then took advantage of it

It was the look that my beagle used to give me

When she was searching for a way to join me on the couch

So

Obviously

We were there like that for the entirety of the singing performance

Plus an extra minute or so

Enjoying the love

That Only

A

Dog

And

A

Cat

Can

Ever

Know

Getting a handle on things

He’s helping the cashier bag the

Six rolls of packing tape and

The grout sealer and applicator

When he runs into a problem with the plastic bag

He fusses, sighs, and says in a noticeably annoyed whisper

That he can’t find the handle

When the cashier helps him fix it

He thanks her

I sign the electronic signature pad and

Hand in hand we head for the door

Each of us content with the illusion

That we have a handle on things

I am Five, Hear Me Roar

I like cheese

I actually love cheese

I eat pizza crusts

For dinner

As the main dish

Occasionally with a smattering of raisins, grapes, peanuts, and maybe leftover pasta to accompany it

But pizza?

Which is essentially crust

In a less chewy and challenging form

Covered in cheese

Do I eat pizza?

Well

As of today

Yes

If you cut it into bits the size of a small Lego brick

Place them directly in my mouth

One by one

And dwell on the fact that I did not need to wash each bite down with milk

Without giving much thought to what might happen tomorrow

If you don’t

Or even if you do

Going forward

You would do well to remember that

I like cheese

My Grocery Lists

Every week I write a grocery list

On an ordinary eight by ten sheet of paper

Folded in half lengthwise

Produce on one side

Dry goods, meats, cheeses, and the like on the other

The week’s menu inside

I fold it in half again the other way to carry it in my pocket

Upon entering the first store I make marks to indicate where I might find each item

Then I usually scratch off the items on the list

One at a time

As I find them

Until every item on the list has a line drawn through it

But not always

Then I bring the list home

But not always

And refer to it throughout the week

But not always

Then I throw it away

Always

Eventually

Because

Every week I write a new one and

Age isn’t valued

Every where

Every week

New Foods Can Be Trying

Determination

Stubbornness

Inflexibility

Ridiculousness

Bemusement

And

Frustration

All intersect

At the moment

When your son

Pukes

While

Trying to force down

A piece of cantaloupe

Trapped In Winter

It's not cold enough
For me to escape the rain
So I stay inside

Happy Birthday ... With Love Baked In

A peanut butter sandwich cookie

Is not always

Just

A peanut butter sandwich cookie

A two layer carrot cake covered in cream cheese icing 

Is not always

Just

A two layer carrot cake covered in cream cheese icing

A piece of construction paper that is folded in half, covered in stickers, and scrawled across with letters

Is not always

Just

A piece of construction paper that is folded in half, covered in stickers, and scrawled across with letters

A blue Cape Cod with four bedrooms, two baths, a crumbling driveway, brand new marble countertops, dutifully made beds and emptied trash cans, and the fine aroma of juicy hamburgers and frying Brussels sprouts floating through the air

Is not always just

Levittown

And will not always be home

But

He knows that better than we do

It’s why he could look at me and solemnly dismiss my suggestion that we buy a cake

With a simple statement

Delivered as if he was a philosopher

Talking with an annoying but lovingly tutored graduate student

“Dad, we can’t buy a cake, we have to bake the love in.”

to my wife on her birthday ... a thank you for the perpetual spring

Outside rain washes

Away the remaining snow

Inside it’s always

...

flowers