Entanglement

Every prayer begins with, thank you; a fervent offering of gratitude for all that I am and all that I have. Thank you for my life, for my children and for this sweet, crazy dog lying next to me. Thank you for our health. Thank you for my parents and for their health. Thank you for this house. Thank you for clean sheets and a warm bed to lie in. Thank you for food in the pantry, indoor plumbing, electricity, a car that gets us to and fro and a job to pay for it all. Thank you for birds, honey bees, sunshine and flowers. Thank you for the Earth. Thank you for the rain and for your protection during the storm. Thank you for hard times and lessons learned. Thank you for all of my happiness through the years and please bless all my family and friends, and those who are no longer my family and friends. Thank you for laughter, love and hugs. Thank you for the gift of growing older and my able body. Thank you for my past self, my future self and my higher self. Thank you for the gift of discer...

Long before there were digital cameras and iPhones, we all took pictures with 35mm film that had to be developed at Wolf camera, or if you're really old like me, a Fotomat. Sometimes, that film would stay in the camera for months if you didn't reach the end of the roll on family vacation, so by the time it was developed, you'd forgotten what was on it. Getting those 4x6 prints was something to look forward to—to re-live your days spent at the beach with your beloved husband and two beautiful babies. *sigh* OR, you get a crashing wave of embarrassment seeing all of the unflattering fat pictures your evil, passive aggressive, narcissist husband has taken of you. Awful eating pictures, bad bathing suit pictures, sitting pictures, like this one, each one more humiliating than the last. I was not in denial about my size, but I was genuinely happy on that trip, and it never occurred to me that my husband was doing anything other than capturing our moments, our memories, because ...

I have a Mockingbird. He has claimed ownership of the bird feeder—militant sentry bully bird, chasing away my beautiful Cardinal couple and every other Wren, House Finch, Nuthatch and Thrasher. Can you see him? Perfectly camouflaged, he blends in with this bleak monochrome winter palate. Our dog does her best to deter this fearless feathered foe—charging and barking, like the frontline trooper that she is...alas, her nemesis takes flight with little effort, and if it were to be measured, a sassy attitude to boot. This battle of wills goes on, all day, every day, with no end in sight. It was all fun and games at first, but casualties are starting to mount—the sliding glass door I can’t even talk about, it’s not pretty—the lawn, or what’s left of it, remains to be seen this Spring and I don’t know how many more hits the fragile fence (or my nerves) can take. I love my dog. I love my birds. “Warriors want a worthy opponent. There is no redress in fighting the pathetic.”―I love this life a...