This moment is vibrating, the formation of an event horizon.
Tonight I feel the tension before the birth of circumstellar disks, accretion disks, spinning matter in flat bands. Two disks occupy near space. One expands to spiral outward, colliding with and altering all it touches; the other spins debris inward, as if to a black hole.
Inauguration Eve ©19 January 2017 8 p.m.|Sandra R. Davidson
Spiraling In or Spiraling Out? [Image Credit: ESO/L. Calçada]
A month shy of his third birthday.
Many friends know our cat, Murrpey, had blockages in his stomach and intestine, one half of a toy in each. Surgery was 13 days ago and he’s been on a diet of the same flavor of soft food for the duration.
At some point he figured out it was easier to feed himself than to tolerate syringe force feeding.
Preparing my husband’s coffee this morning, I catch the cat trying to bury his canned food as he might bury his waste.
After they remove his staples tomorrow, I predict the surprise return of dry kibble, which he prefers, is going to go over very well.
©2016 Sandra R. Davidson (text and image)
Randy could see nothing exceptional in this man—a man at least twice their age. This made no sense for a survivor.
He slowly kicked open wide the driver’s door, his heart pounding against the constraints of veins. He tried to wet his lips with a dry tongue. What he wanted was a smoke. He’d quit tobacco three years ago and there was no one in the motel parking lot to bum a cigarette from anyhow. Continue reading
Candied Coffee: Sweet, creamy with a touch of vanilla.
To engage the world and remain centered is difficult. I suppose I’m a realist, not glib or glum.
“It is unimaginably hard to do this, to stay conscious and alive in the adult world day in and day out.” —David Foster Wallace
When we first saw the property on which we now live, lovely white blooms were set against emerging green foliage, the tree of which graced us with thumb-sized plums of the right color but whose pits were nearly as large as the fruits! The leaves shaded one end of the drive and a portion of the master bedroom.
The dogs began to eat the fruit—pits and all—as soon as they fell ripe. You can imagine this was a painful lesson and one the dogs repeat at the first available fruit of each year. I also discovered the leaves were shot with holes, bugs and disease. The first year was enough. I wanted something that didn’t seed itself everywhere the chipmunks buried its fruit.
My husband wouldn’t hear of cutting down the tree, commonly called a pioneer plum. We added a Frost Peach and two Rainier Cherry trees near the plum. Sure enough, the pests infecting the plum thought our new additions were tasty.
With a redwood core and bark meat sandwiching a golden ring, the wood will make great art pieces as well as a sampling of plum-smoked edibles. Long live the cherries (and the peach)!
Oh, oh, and oh. I’ve been given two gifts today, this the latter.
However commonplace the title of Broken might be, I am lifted by
“…with a willingness to die.”
Rich. A relief of a destiny at hand. Soul station found and dialed in.
I have no children, so each mother’s day I consider the many mother’s I have, as I’m sure you have as well.
I was four when my father asked my brother and me whether we would like a woman he had been dating as our Mom. Both my brother and I were overjoyed. It isn’t easy to step into the life of a man with two small children. My stepmother will always be Mom. Three years later, Mom brought our sister into our lives.
My biological mother came into my life when I was 22, 19 years after she left in hopes we would be in better care. With her reintroduction came two new sisters and a niece. In 2001, she moved 930 miles closer and became my friend. I call her Momma.
In all these years I’ve had my grandmother, my aunt, two blessed mothers-in-law and numerous other mother figures who provide guidance and comfort beyond simple friendship.
Each of these remarkable women had and have no obligation to reach out, to settle themselves into their roles in my life. I can’t imagine who I would be without them; I am so thankful.
Perhaps mother’s day isn’t a Hallmark moment. There may be anger, grief, guilt and myriad complex emotions tied to the title of the day. And then there are other mothers, temporary or forever loving figures who, mistakes and all, have fulfilled some motherhood.
And you…you may have no idea how you’ve fulfilled the role of mother in the lives of others.