Saturday, March 9, 2013

FRIDAY FLEES TO SATURDAY



Looking out the Hall Window
A morning of wet snow.
Then an afternoon of rain.
My Super has not responded to the kitchen sink leak, has rescheduled painting the repair of hall ceiling to Monday I hope.  Incommunicado--his defense against tenant needs.
I escaped back in time with Antennae TV for an episode of the 'perfect' 1950's fantasy family, where "father" who "knows best", reluctantly agrees to let the kids submit a photo of them to a contest, hoping to win a free trip to Hawaii.
 Jude's  beautiful posts about her mom's frailty
plunged me into thought.

Memories of my own mother rose up,
carrying nostalgic longings for home,
for protection and belonging.

The Courage that my mother had
by Edna St. Vincent Millay

The courage that my mother had
Went with her, and is with her still:
Rock from New England quarried;
Now granite in a granite hill.

The golden brooch my mother wore
She left behind for me to wear;
I have no thing I treasure more:
Yet, it is something I could spare.

Oh, if instead she'd left to me
The thing she took into the grave!-
That courage like a rock, which she
Has no more need of, and I have.
 


 Another friend facing another kind of crisis
spent time processing it with me via telephone. 
Sometimes, just witnessing is all one can do.
Upstairs elephant-footed neighbors added noise
to the ambiance while building something.  Hammers and thuds echoing off my front room ceiling all afternoon.
I watched parts of the funeral in Venezuela,
reading English subtitles.

Read news feed about the Vatican Conclave,
now set to begin Tuesday.
 Wrote a bit,
napping when I could.
Night encircles day.
Dreams encircle dreamers.

6 comments:

grace Forrest~Maestas said...

the last month of Winter.
nothing to do but endure, right?
no choice but to receive it.
Soon.....
xoxoxo

deemallon said...

As usual, a stimulating tour of your day... Jude's posts have reminded me of my mother as well. I have been missing her a lot lately (she's been gone for 17 years now). I love the poem and it, oddly, captures one of the things I miss most about my mother, too -- her incredible ability to say what she thought... a particular kind of courage.

Nancy said...

This is all most wonderful and touching. The feather, the poem, the video. Thank you. Thank you for another favorite circle song, this was a very nice version :)

Nancy said...

BTW~ My sister and I grew up watching FKB!!! Love that show :) "Oh Betty, you can't wear those jeans, you're a girl!"
I can't even type the way Jane Wyatt pronounced 'girl'!! Ha!

Judy Martin said...

I feel as if I am with you while you go through your day in New York.
be well.

grace Forrest~Maestas said...

i did comment.
so...where's today, Sunday?
SUN day?