Used to…

Used to...

Enjoy picking out the dress clothes for work especially the tie and socks and watching her, the night before, laying out her wardrobe, draping clothes and lingerie over the vanity bench.

Enjoy packing the lunch for the children with a surprise treat and hustling them into the car to get to the school on time.

Enjoy early morning grocery shopping; a time to browse different produce and engage the staff with a host of how do you prepare it.

Enjoy going to the bank, the post office, even gassing the car especially at a station where the machines always gave you a receipt after charging your credit card.

Enjoy random road trips to no place in particular, no pre-determined destination, and then discovering a quaint restaurant, an intriguing shop, starting impromptu chats with staff and owners.

Enjoy being a weekend guest; looking forward to the hosts’ morning breakfast…Cuban coffee, fresh squeezed OJ, scrambled eggs garnished with pancakes, sausages and bacon, a sautéed veggie; sitting at the wooden table with bench seats on the DIY deck to share that first meal to jump start the day…helping do the dishes. And then the “looking forward to” afternoon cook-out, jostling for the coldest bottle of beer or sipping others made-it-myself strange cocktail from their glass and passing the glass back to the them. No harm. No foul.

Enjoy walking with my grandchildren; engulfing their hands tenderly in mine, or trying to give piggy-back rides, and then those hugs were little arms were tightly wrapped around my neck and heads dug deep into my neck and shoulder. “Why do you have to go?” “Please stay.”

Enjoy going to a movie, a theatrical production, restaurants, the hole-in-the wall for a drink.

Enjoy hanging in someone’s kitchen; cooking food with a tasked culinary division of labor; rubbing shoulders, hip-checking or a gentle yet get out of my way back nudge to whomever blocked your way to the stove.

Used to…

I hum “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)…” and think that Anne and Dave would not mind when I substituted Memories for “dreams.”

As Life changes, so will what I enjoy.

***

Chrystal Berche (photo provided)

Chrystal Berche is a photographer, artist, and writer living in North Central Iowa. These poems are from her Weary Blues collection. Ms. Berche will have three poems in the forthcoming aaduna 2020 double issue and is a former visual art contributor to the journal.

Welcome Ms. Berche.

When Laughter Erodes

Some days it doesn’t pay to smile
Laughter met with scorn is common now
It’s so easy to crush a dream with words
Bitterness, jealousy, flip a coin and take your pick
It’s easier to tear down than build up
Almost as if it hurts the world to see you laughing
What a shame, to shy away from happiness
To keep joy hidden behind a cloud of indifference
Desperate to avoid the doubters, the naysayers
It’s easy to tell someone no, to tell them don’t
To find the bad and highlight every crack
It’s harder somehow to keep on climbing
When grasping fingers clutch your heels, drag you down
Sometimes it doesn’t pay to dance outside the circle
Dare to dream, to be different and the world gets up in arms
Their own personal war to enforce conformity

I’ll never conform
I’ll dance in the rain and laugh as you order me in
Spin, twirl, leap higher
High enough your criticisms will never reach
From my perch I’ll mourn your narrow view
Your false sense of superiority
That smug look on your face as you wag your finger
List all the things that make you right
What’s right anyway, it’s just a point of view
Keep it

Fragile Masks

Flirt with the light
But…
dare not touch it
Skitter around the edges
Slip
slide as you weave silken threads into masks
veil your eyes
block the world from seeing
all your deepest fears
Spin yourself a trap
More tangled than a spider’s web
All while praying it doesn’t snap
Revealing you for a fraud
that slips on evening dew
and slides along a tendril
unraveling shadows 
Drifting towards light
holy flames forged in orange and gold
Daring you to dance a little closer to the edge
Do you fear the burn?
Or is it the lie beneath the mask you fear to shed?
The illusion woven to hide the horror Inside. 

***

April is Jazz Appreciation Month. Have you listened to a jazz recording this month? 

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