Category: Loss

Small Sins; Have Mercy

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Jack couldn’t afford the sensitive toothpaste. Not if he wanted to buy groceries for the kids. His teeth hurt so bad, though.

“Do you want it?” The clerk pointed at the toothpaste in the locked case.

Like it’s diamonds or something. “Let me see it.”

Another customer needed another case unlocked on another aisle.

“Why do you lock everything up?”

“Store policy. Put it back if you don’t want it.”

It might not work. Jack’s stomach rumbled. The guy trusts me. Or doesn’t care. Or sees I need it.

They locked Jack up. But not before he’s brushed his teeth.

Third Eye, Third Way

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My third eye started as a zit in the middle of my forehead. It popped. A stream of foul smelling doom scrolls, news stories, and government edicts covered my face. The mess came off in the shower, but the wound required dressing changes for weeks.

I got wise. A diet of cozy mysteries, poetry, eighteenth century women’s novels, and Buddhist philosophy cleared my mind of junk. Zen koans had a cleansing effect, so much so that I started doing yoga and meditation.

My third eye emerged. My brain contained the cosmos. My food for thought: the restful sounds of mantras.

Minnesota Nice Meet Minnesota ICE.

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Good said, “I’m not mad at you.” 
ICE said, “Fucking bitch.” Then he shot her. 
What would Freud say? 
Opposing instincts, 
Eros, the life force versus Thanatos, the death force. 

Comity versus violence. 
Consensus versus fascism.
What would Jesus say?
Turn the other cheek.
Like Martin Luther King, like Mahatma Gandhi, like Jesus himself.

What would George Harris III say?
Flower Power. Carry a carnation. Insert it into the barrel of a soldier’s gun. 
Hope they’re so surprised they forget to shoot you. 
But I’m mad. I want to bloody curse.
Choose life, choose love.

Don’t be mad, be transformative.

It’s Better to Flip a Coin

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They were compatible except for different ideas about where to vacation. She wanted a cruise on the Rhine. He preferred the Nile. She wanted to visit a democracy. He said that Egypt is a democracy, but they both knew better. She wanted to leave her raincoat at home. He said, “Then Egypt is the place to go.”

The negotiations lasted for a week. Every evening, they huddled separately with their phones. Their conversations were revealing. They were determined to compromise; also to keep trying for their vacation choice and win the other’s heart. In the end, they flipped a coin.

When the Going Gets Tough, the Tough Share a Meal

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Justice O’Connor, who died two years ago on this day, was an advocate for informal lunches at the Supreme Court. Even Clarence Thomas, who’d stayed away from the events, succumbed to her invitations. 

O’Connor and her fellow female justice, RBG, advanced equal rights for all. There are four women on the bench now. It was probably easier for them to get there thanks to the two women who went before them. Here’s hoping they will ease the way to full equality for others. Here’s hoping they will make those SCOTUS lunches welcoming for all as O’Connor did in her day.

Sandra Day O’Connor died on December 1, 2023. Ruth Bader Ginsberg died on September 18, 2020.

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The One That Got Away

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I want my baby back. Ribs. That’s back ribs. I was standing at the meat counter and there was one package left. It’s been ages since I’ve barbequed ribs, ages. 

The last time was at a cabin up north, summer. The mosquitos were buzzing and I slapped at them and then made a fire to smoke the skeeters away and once you have a fire, then you need some ribs. So we had ribs, potato salad, beans, and apple pie. 

I looked for the ribs. Gone. They were in this lady’s cart heading for dairy. So, I got some tofu.

Advice from an Older Me to My Six Year-old Self

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I traveled in time to my sixth birthday party. I spoke with my younger self. “Psst. It’s hard to wait when you’re six.”

“Yeah, it’s not fair. It’s my birthday. I’m last in line for all the games. My aunt said I should get to go first, but Dad won’t listen to anyone.

“Relax. Life is waiting in lines. You’ll learn to notice what’s important. You’ll see; that’s your superpower.”

“I’m mad and I’m sad.”

“You’ll remember the party that way. But learning to wait is valuable, even when you think waiting isn’t worth it. Also, Dad’s not always right.”

In Retreat

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Lily had a cup of coffee and a bowl of granola after an hour of yoga. The beach was a ten minute walk away. She didn’t gag at the disagreeable smell of rotting algae. She reveled in it. The  sight of plovers hopping along, their beaks poking the wet sand to find breakfast, delighted her. The sunrise shone behind them.

She was beginning to enjoy the solitary days, the solo walks, the freedom to set her own schedule. A month after her partner passed, she had found  a natural habitat where death and life mingled and new mixed with old.

After the Funeral

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Sven was filled with Guinness and peanuts. Distracted by a roadside fruit stand, he ran a stop light.

An ordinary goat in a neon vest and hard hat was selling a variety of grapes: blue concords, tiny green Champagnes and four other kinds. 

“I’ll take a pound of the Muscat,” Sven said through his open window. 

The goat ambled over, leaned on the roof and stared. “You’ve had enough.”

But Sven wanted grapes more than he could say. “They’re for my wife.”

There were no grapes. There was no wife. Sven began to weep for grapes and so much more.

A Mother Knows

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A beloved king lived in a modest bungalow on the edge of the forest. His wife was the kindest and most beautiful of all women. Together they ruled the kingdom of Thryngia in peace and prosperity. If only they had a child to succeed them. 

A charlatan heard of their plight. He found his way into their confidence and promised to bring to life the stillborn child they had buried scarcely weeks before. The charlatan’s cousin, a witch, transformed him into an infant and raised him from the child’s grave. The queen was not fooled. A mother knows her child.