Autumn dreams

Great big mounds of sand, light and fine. We're underground. I clamber to the cusp of the dunes and see the finest grains start trickling down the other side. My link to history is there. She looks at me from below, near her vehicle. The trickle of sand start to increase in volume, soon the whole surface is moving, sliding slowly, slowly down towards her. I stand there, calling to her, as the sand starts to settle around her and the vehicle - I can't see her any more! The vehicle is engulfed, a deepening of the sand where it is. What's happening - is she ok?

I'm in an underground space, ceiling above me grey and darkening. Lockers like those in a high school, but no, not exactly like that, stand in a corner of the vast space. She is here with me. I open a creaky door by unhooking a basic lock device. Fine sand lays in small dunes along the edges of the space, covering the edges of a big portfolio. I reach in and lift it out, balancing the handwritten notes inside carefully to the table. As I start to leaf through it I hear sounds, it's war out there beyond the walls. I hear something - he's coming, and I am both excited and ashamed to be going through these memories. Suddenly she and I look at each other and I hastily try to replace the portfolio in the locker, shutting the door loudly, engaging the locking device - it's not working now - oh no! He's in the room, large and frail. It's ok. He looks at me with the deepest clarity in his eyes, and I see him for the man he once was. I disengage the lock on the locker again and replace the portfolio on the table.

Ode to Saga

The seasons are changing. I keep repeating that to everyone, but foremost myself. It's clear; the air nips at my chin if I don't keep it tucked into my scarf, and full days of rain remind me that my outerwear is not water proof. Clear skies shift and are replaced with a lucid cover of greys. Soft and mellow anticipation of blustering winds comes and goes with the arrival of gust lifting surprisingly long strands of hair into the air, like antennae.

Shifting into a space that is open and inviting, however challenging, maybe inviting because it is challenging, challenging because it is open. Engaging seems just ahead.

___


Sometimes you meet people and they make an impression. Sometimes you meet people and they hardly register as a blip on your radar. Sometimes the briefest of encounters stay with you forever, and occasionally a seemingly meaningless meeting turns into something of longevity.

Out of two potential relations, what then makes one relationship last, and another falter? How can maintaining a relationship with someone on the other side of the world come so much more naturally than staying in touch with someone just up the street?

___


It's all about movement, now. And daring. Moving, and daring.

A girl and her mom

Waiting at the bus stop one day not too long ago a woman arrived with her daughter in tow, perhaps 8-9-10 years old and wrapped in hat, scarf and winter coat and lugging what looked like a heavy little backpack and a gym bag. The mom was carrying three other bags (backpack, two cotton bags) and looked slightly stressed. After a while of discussions on what was or was not in one of the bags, the girls went back to where they had come from to retrieve said item. Arriving back lugging all the bags, the mother discussed their upcoming commitments and remembered that "your father", i.e. the girl's dad, hadn't filled in a second copy of a form for the girl's school. So, she pulled out her mobile, entered her (apparently) ex-lover's phone number and said, "You call your dad, and tell him that he should have filled it out a looong time ago! He never does what he has to, he is so irresponsible.".

This in itself made me uncomfortable, but the ensuing conversation, in which a young girl was made an instrument in her mother's poor communication with someone she had chosen to create a child with made me want to slap the mother. She told her exactly what to say, speaking the next point to make while the girl was speaking. The girl is becoming equipped be a very talented PA one day: multitasking, filtering information and dealing with a rubbish boss who makes unreasonable demands on her.

That a mother can be so insensitive to the effect her actions may have on the well-being of her own child is beyond me. Some people need to grow up and take responsibilities, and it's not the girl in this story.

Finally getting onto their bus the girl offered to carry one of the backpacks in addition to her gym bag. The mom responded, "No, no, that's fine darling, it's fine. I'm used to carrying all this stuff". You sure are. And so is your daughter. "Are you sure mom? I can, I really can take it!".