Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Monday, May 28, 2012
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Swimming
Since I was the smallest of children, I loved to swim.
I was always in the water, diving and flipping around like a slippery little frog. It was nearly impossible to get me out once I dove in. It became my second home. Large portions of my Summers were spent with wrinkled hands and shriveled fingers. My entire body was simply waterlogged, I stayed submerged so much.
The best times were when a storm was coming. As that misshapen and compressed wall of dark blue clouds slowly pushed in from the northwest, even the brightest of days dimmed little by little. A cool breeze quickly turrned cold, icy, against my wet skin. I knew instantly, I was not getting out of the water. I remember the wind kicking in and thick heavy raindrops, the size of marbles, falling...but "under"...nothing.
There, it was oh-so was warm.
Well...
I am ever the one for analogies, and last night another one hit me as I was trying to sleep.
My love life (is that what it is called for men?) is much like my joy of swimming, and in some ways, similar to swimming on those stormy Summer days, the days I liked best, when only the water could keep me warm.
I am sadly seeing I have been far more careless than I should have been. Time after time, I have gone around seeking the prettiest pool I could find. And once I found that pool...I dove right in (I am a man of extremes). I didn't check to see how deep it was or even if the water was cold. I was ready to swim! And once I was in...I refused to budge....until the water drained or I was dragged out.
And you know what I realized? I did same damn thing again!
I saw this pool...and I had to go swimming in it. I had to. There was no stopping me. I snipped the caution tape and kicked down the barricades warning me about the dangers of this particular pool. I laughed at the fools running the other way. Ha! Fine, I had an oasis. So when I got close enough...I took the biggest swan dive a man have has ever taken and aimed directly at the center of that beautiful pool I just could not live without.
The dive almost broke my neck.
I found out, a little too late, where I landed is very shallow. It's not even deep enough for me to swim. If I twist my body the right way, if I contort and turn, I can glide across it at times...but, if I am honest with myself, it isn't meant for a man to be in. I should say, it isn't meant for this man to be in. I will always think there is a deeper end to the pool (I have to believe that.) but for some reason I can't get there. There is some sort of barrier I can't see. Every time I try to cross over, I get cut up..hurt. I will forever have the scars to prove it, to prove how goddamn hard I tried.
So, for the first time in my life...I need to get out of the water on my own.
I'm going to get out of the water...I have to face this crisp wind that is coming. But, I'm afraid of being cold.
It is much easier to stay where I am, to float along. However, I know will never really swim.
I've been urged for years to get out of this pool by many people, loving people. And, indeed, I have tried a few times before...but when it came down to it, I couldn't or I did, but jumped right back in.
What makes this time different, though, and why and I know I can get out of the water, is because someone stepped out of the bushes, or maybe out of the clouds (a friend, a long lost friend).
This friend has walked up to the side of the pool I am in, tears in her eyes. She's crying for me, with me. She isn't offering a hand to pull me out (...No, I must do that on my own...) but, she is holding this huge warm towel.
You see, the weather is cold outside and she knows it...she can feel it, herself. She knows the chill very well.
And because she knows me so well, she also knows how much I want to swim...how I long for it.
But, she isn't pressuring me to exit the water. She's saying, "Okay, John Newberry, if you want to stay in there, that's fine. I'm not leaving. Let's talk." She understands me, understands if I want to stay in this pool and never get out. No matter what my choice, she'll sit there...she'll be there...for me. For me.
I so love her for it. To try to express in words how that makes me feel is almost an insult to the emotion.
She's my own cherub.
So, don't worry, I truly have an angel watching over me and I'm going to get out of this water soon.
However, I don't care what anyone says. This was a good pool. I had to take the shot. Yes, it's sharp very very sharp and coarse in spots...but it has some really warm places too. I just wish it was deep enough for me to swim in.
I was always in the water, diving and flipping around like a slippery little frog. It was nearly impossible to get me out once I dove in. It became my second home. Large portions of my Summers were spent with wrinkled hands and shriveled fingers. My entire body was simply waterlogged, I stayed submerged so much.
The best times were when a storm was coming. As that misshapen and compressed wall of dark blue clouds slowly pushed in from the northwest, even the brightest of days dimmed little by little. A cool breeze quickly turrned cold, icy, against my wet skin. I knew instantly, I was not getting out of the water. I remember the wind kicking in and thick heavy raindrops, the size of marbles, falling...but "under"...nothing.
There, it was oh-so was warm.
Well...
I am ever the one for analogies, and last night another one hit me as I was trying to sleep.
My love life (is that what it is called for men?) is much like my joy of swimming, and in some ways, similar to swimming on those stormy Summer days, the days I liked best, when only the water could keep me warm.
I am sadly seeing I have been far more careless than I should have been. Time after time, I have gone around seeking the prettiest pool I could find. And once I found that pool...I dove right in (I am a man of extremes). I didn't check to see how deep it was or even if the water was cold. I was ready to swim! And once I was in...I refused to budge....until the water drained or I was dragged out.
And you know what I realized? I did same damn thing again!
I saw this pool...and I had to go swimming in it. I had to. There was no stopping me. I snipped the caution tape and kicked down the barricades warning me about the dangers of this particular pool. I laughed at the fools running the other way. Ha! Fine, I had an oasis. So when I got close enough...I took the biggest swan dive a man have has ever taken and aimed directly at the center of that beautiful pool I just could not live without.
The dive almost broke my neck.
I found out, a little too late, where I landed is very shallow. It's not even deep enough for me to swim. If I twist my body the right way, if I contort and turn, I can glide across it at times...but, if I am honest with myself, it isn't meant for a man to be in. I should say, it isn't meant for this man to be in. I will always think there is a deeper end to the pool (I have to believe that.) but for some reason I can't get there. There is some sort of barrier I can't see. Every time I try to cross over, I get cut up..hurt. I will forever have the scars to prove it, to prove how goddamn hard I tried.
So, for the first time in my life...I need to get out of the water on my own.
I'm going to get out of the water...I have to face this crisp wind that is coming. But, I'm afraid of being cold.
It is much easier to stay where I am, to float along. However, I know will never really swim.
I've been urged for years to get out of this pool by many people, loving people. And, indeed, I have tried a few times before...but when it came down to it, I couldn't or I did, but jumped right back in.
What makes this time different, though, and why and I know I can get out of the water, is because someone stepped out of the bushes, or maybe out of the clouds (a friend, a long lost friend).
This friend has walked up to the side of the pool I am in, tears in her eyes. She's crying for me, with me. She isn't offering a hand to pull me out (...No, I must do that on my own...) but, she is holding this huge warm towel.
You see, the weather is cold outside and she knows it...she can feel it, herself. She knows the chill very well.
And because she knows me so well, she also knows how much I want to swim...how I long for it.
But, she isn't pressuring me to exit the water. She's saying, "Okay, John Newberry, if you want to stay in there, that's fine. I'm not leaving. Let's talk." She understands me, understands if I want to stay in this pool and never get out. No matter what my choice, she'll sit there...she'll be there...for me. For me.
I so love her for it. To try to express in words how that makes me feel is almost an insult to the emotion.
She's my own cherub.
So, don't worry, I truly have an angel watching over me and I'm going to get out of this water soon.
However, I don't care what anyone says. This was a good pool. I had to take the shot. Yes, it's sharp very very sharp and coarse in spots...but it has some really warm places too. I just wish it was deep enough for me to swim in.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
The Sweetest Christmas Cookie...I Have Ever Had
Last night, for whatever reason, I made the choice of going to my Aunt and Uncle's Christmas Eve party. I am so glad I attended, because I will remember this event the rest of my life.
It was a wonderfully warm and casual gathering of maybe twenty people. Folks were lounging around or taking turns visiting with whoever they chose. My cousin Jaime and I were playing some strange card game by the fireplace. As we were doing so, I was snacking on some very tasty cookies my Aunt Kris had given me for Christmas. They had come sealed in a container not at all unlike a to-go box for Chinese food, sporting a few ribbons and streamers. Quite clever.
I glanced from over my cards and saw this tiny thing tumbling towards me. It was Gi-Gi. She is very young and Brooke's (Jaime's older sister) absolutely beautiful daughter.
Earlier in the night, the two of us had already shared many cups of invisible tea from her pink princess set (which I... think....was far far too hot for me to drink at first. But guessing whether I was supposed to be enjoying my drink or be scalded by it, is much tougher than it would seem if you only go by the expressions of a little girl), she was also so kind to as to refill my mug over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over...(sigh)..and over and over and over. She even let me hold her dolls for a few minutes as she readied them for bed.
So, seeing her head my way...I figured, odds were, I must be thirsty again.
Nope.
I found out I wasn't hungry.
I watched as two-inch long fingers reached into the box of cookies I had before me. They pulled out one, then two, then three... Soon, all the cookies (all my cookies at that!) were pinned to the chest of this little (yet, respectfully brazen)thief, who then went around the room and passed them out to other people. Out fairness to Gi-Gi, she did leave me with the corner of a sugar star.
I survived the heist and went back to the card game. Fine. I didn't want cookies, anyway,
How much time passed? A year? A month? Twenty minutes? I couldn't tell you. But when I looked up, there she was...again.
The girl was stalking me.
Her impossibly small hand was outstretched. She was holding something...just for me...only, this time it wasn't imaginary. ...and, there was no need to search her expressions. I knew what it was. It was a cookie. Well...at some seemingly very distant point in history, it was a cookie. More specifically, it had belonged to a cookie. You see, what she held couldn't have been an actual cookie. The thing between her fingers was globular. It edged and drooped over her miniature digits. Cookies don't do that. Generally, they hold form...or at least, my cookies did.
As yummy as this multicolored mass of goo was to her, I didn't want any. There really was no need to share this me. She could keep my cookie, if that's indeed what this sad and soggy thing in her hand had once had been. It wasn't that big of a deal. At this point, it was hers. I was okay with that. I really really really was.
Nonetheless, my pleas of "No Thanks" and "That's Okay" and "Oh, you have it" did nothing to dissuade, this now generous vandal. I had to give in. I had to. She's a Jedi. At two feet tall, she towered over me...I was powerless. There was no use in fighting any longer, so I extended my hand.
Gi-Gi gave me, what could only be described as, the "paste of a cookie" and it didn't plop into my hand as much as it smeared.
My response, as Gi-Gi gleefully trotted away?
"Brooke, your child is so disgusting." But even as I said it, I couldn't help but laugh. I have never had such an experience. Ever. Even after it was gone, I felt that cookie, or cookie-corpse, in my hand for twenty minutes.
Before Brooke and her husband (Mike) left, Gi-Gi came to see me one last time. I wasn't sure what else this little thing could possibly do to me. Unexpectedly, she gave me a kiss on the cheek to say goodbye. It was like a little dew drop.
And then she was gone...with my heart in tow.
Today, as I write this, and I think of the innocence of that child, of her handing me the last bites of something she thought was so wonderful, I can't help but think...it may be the sweetest Christmas Cookie I have ever had.
Merry Christmas.
It was a wonderfully warm and casual gathering of maybe twenty people. Folks were lounging around or taking turns visiting with whoever they chose. My cousin Jaime and I were playing some strange card game by the fireplace. As we were doing so, I was snacking on some very tasty cookies my Aunt Kris had given me for Christmas. They had come sealed in a container not at all unlike a to-go box for Chinese food, sporting a few ribbons and streamers. Quite clever.
I glanced from over my cards and saw this tiny thing tumbling towards me. It was Gi-Gi. She is very young and Brooke's (Jaime's older sister) absolutely beautiful daughter.
Earlier in the night, the two of us had already shared many cups of invisible tea from her pink princess set (which I... think....was far far too hot for me to drink at first. But guessing whether I was supposed to be enjoying my drink or be scalded by it, is much tougher than it would seem if you only go by the expressions of a little girl), she was also so kind to as to refill my mug over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over...(sigh)..and over and over and over. She even let me hold her dolls for a few minutes as she readied them for bed.
So, seeing her head my way...I figured, odds were, I must be thirsty again.
Nope.
I found out I wasn't hungry.
I watched as two-inch long fingers reached into the box of cookies I had before me. They pulled out one, then two, then three... Soon, all the cookies (all my cookies at that!) were pinned to the chest of this little (yet, respectfully brazen)thief, who then went around the room and passed them out to other people. Out fairness to Gi-Gi, she did leave me with the corner of a sugar star.
I survived the heist and went back to the card game. Fine. I didn't want cookies, anyway,
How much time passed? A year? A month? Twenty minutes? I couldn't tell you. But when I looked up, there she was...again.
The girl was stalking me.
Her impossibly small hand was outstretched. She was holding something...just for me...only, this time it wasn't imaginary. ...and, there was no need to search her expressions. I knew what it was. It was a cookie. Well...at some seemingly very distant point in history, it was a cookie. More specifically, it had belonged to a cookie. You see, what she held couldn't have been an actual cookie. The thing between her fingers was globular. It edged and drooped over her miniature digits. Cookies don't do that. Generally, they hold form...or at least, my cookies did.
As yummy as this multicolored mass of goo was to her, I didn't want any. There really was no need to share this me. She could keep my cookie, if that's indeed what this sad and soggy thing in her hand had once had been. It wasn't that big of a deal. At this point, it was hers. I was okay with that. I really really really was.
Nonetheless, my pleas of "No Thanks" and "That's Okay" and "Oh, you have it" did nothing to dissuade, this now generous vandal. I had to give in. I had to. She's a Jedi. At two feet tall, she towered over me...I was powerless. There was no use in fighting any longer, so I extended my hand.
Gi-Gi gave me, what could only be described as, the "paste of a cookie" and it didn't plop into my hand as much as it smeared.
My response, as Gi-Gi gleefully trotted away?
"Brooke, your child is so disgusting." But even as I said it, I couldn't help but laugh. I have never had such an experience. Ever. Even after it was gone, I felt that cookie, or cookie-corpse, in my hand for twenty minutes.
Before Brooke and her husband (Mike) left, Gi-Gi came to see me one last time. I wasn't sure what else this little thing could possibly do to me. Unexpectedly, she gave me a kiss on the cheek to say goodbye. It was like a little dew drop.
And then she was gone...with my heart in tow.
Today, as I write this, and I think of the innocence of that child, of her handing me the last bites of something she thought was so wonderful, I can't help but think...it may be the sweetest Christmas Cookie I have ever had.
Merry Christmas.
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