Reflectons the Junction Bridge

White cottonwood furballs, graffiti, steps, triangles, cables, electrical connections, tourists, kids, pigeon dung, dog dung, couples, individuals, kisses, strollers, cries, strawberry ice cream melting, trolley car, red and white striped tent, grungy brown river, white foam, sparrows, titmouses, crows, trellises, piping, cement, shadows, blue, red, grey, white, black, trash, music, laughter, wind rustling paper pieces in dirvishes, clanking, coughing, cacophony of conversations, i-pod shuffle, flag fluttering, bird nest, tunnels, clock, barge, riverboats, submarine, silence.

Baroness Orczy

"In the afternoons the air would become insufferably hot, and Marguerite would throw open the window and sit beside it, her gaze fixed upon the horizon far away, her hands lying limp and moist upon her lap.
Then she would fall to dreaming. Her thoughts, swifter than flight of swallows, would cross the sea and go roaming across country to her stately home in Richmond, where at this hour the moist, cool air was fragrant with the scent of late roses and of lime blossom, and the murmur of the river lapping the mossy bank whispered of love and of peace. In her dream she would see the tall figure of her beloved coming toward her. The sunset was playing upon his smooth hair and upon his strong, slender hands, always outstretched toward the innocent and the weak. She would hear his dear voice calling her name, feel his arms around her, and her senses swooning in the ecstasy of that perfect moment which comes just before a kiss"....page 261, excerpt from The Triumph of the Scarlet Pimpernel

What? WHAT???

I hate these moments when something just isn't right and I have no understanding of the catalyst causing the uneasiness. Are the stars not aligned? Was my roastbeef for lunch disagreeable? Did I sleep too long or not enough? Was it the last e-mail or the fifty I still need to write?

What? WHAT???

Not seeing the Little River Band? The three false fire alarms in the most inopportune moments? Skidding over trolley rails? Getting a key chain rather than a water bottle for my FORD car give-away entry?

What? WHAT???

The bank not posting my 825.00 deposit? Misplacing my wireless car remote again (who thought keyless entries were a good idea anyway)? The hair in my tomato basil soup? Not getting to hit a bucket of golf balls on my lunch hour? The price of gas? Not getting a dark chocolate graham cracker (from Starbucks) for my afternoon snack?

What? WHAT???

The sun shining brightly on a work day? Work? That letter that needs to be edited? The 5:30 meeting? Bad hair day? An itchy flea bite? Full Tivo? Taking those pills with salted water (can that really be necessary)? Him?

Perhaps, there just............King George moments, or it could be, I should have had a V-8?

Bombs Bursting In Air

Even the hay spread over the mud couldn't stop my feet from getting sucked deeper in the mire. The rain had been constant since early this morning. I still wanted to hear the band that I would sing with on the radio, during the college years. The Little River Band was scheduled to play but as I neared the stage, the announcement advised it was a wash. I had gone prepared. I wore pink capris, rubber boots with hot pink trim, a white v, sleeveless shirt, silver 21 inch long necklace with clover charms and an umbrella. I had thrown a garbage bag in my backpack just for good measure. It was not necessary because wearing it would have not offered any further protection. Besides, there was something freeing about letting the rain pelt my body with no real care or consequence. Not since I was making mud pies or stomping in puddles did I have such fun in the rain. Since there would be no "I was born in the sign of water", I was ready to break out in a little "singing in the rain." The wind caught my umbrella and turned it inside out. I grabbed the corners and pulled it back. It reinverted but from then on it popped in and out as the wind demanded.

I was going to wait for the fireworks but it appeared even those would be diverted. I decided I'd return home. On the walk back, the rain intensified and I decided I would no longer fight the impulse to seek cover. I've been too protected too long, in my work, my friendships, my faith, my follies and even my relationship. It was time to let go and let the water baptize my spirit with desire to linger awhile and breathe.

I had barely changed my wet clothing for dry jammies when the first bomb hit. The pressure from the blast reverberated off the window. I jumped. There was a second and third. The fireworks. I grabbed my robe and flew to the balcony. The river threw up a cool breeze as the wind tiptoed off the white caps. My face was damp from the spitting rain. The colors mixed in reds, greens, blues and silver stars shot out from the remnants. The bombs bursting in air signified the adjournment of the festival and as I lingered, I examined the contents of my heart and breathed.

Rain on the River

The day began raining, blowing, raining on the banks, next to the river. There was never a reprieve. All day, the murky skies stayed hovering. In 1983, my middle brother was killed on a drilling ship in the South China Sea. For six months, the Houston based company gave us hope that he and others were alive, having been able to evade the typhoon in an escape pod. It was suggested that the crew had landed in Vietnam and imprisoned. Every phone call that was received, left me breathless as I anxiously watched forelorn parents faces. Holidays came, gifts were wrapped and saved, until, divers explored the capsized vessel and found bodies. One of which was my brother.



His voyage home culminated on a tarmac in Mississippi on a script written sweltering, humid summer afternoon. His body was first deployed from the freight cargo bay of a 747. I stood, motionless as the wooden crate was lowered and hurled onto a cart for transport to the waiting hurse. Before the oversea coffin was loaded, I finally acknowledged the truth that he was gone from this life and I would never see his tall statuesque figure again. My closest friend in life was no longer of this Earth. I screamed as I ran my trembling hands over his metal embossed name plate.



I would not scream again, until 1986 when death claimed my beloved Father. He had succumbed to melanoma and sarcoma of the lung which had metastisized to the brain. My Mother and I stood watching him fight, gasping for the last hope at life. My body frozen as the Code Blue Alarm was cancelled with a DNR announcement. I had always hoped that his death would come in loving words and smiling as he slowly drew upon his last. I was angered that his end was violent. This man from humble beginnings remained a humble man throughout and I felt he earned to die graciously and quietly.



His remains joined my brother in the family plot in the family church in rurul Mississippi. Death has taken them all now, another brother and my adored Mother just this past June. She was just shy of her 90th birthday.



My heart is not unaccustomed to days like today when no sun or light warms the solemn, silent grief that abounds. But life does go on, just like the rain on the river. It will head downstream in the fast paced current. Grey skies will be pushed from the heavens and light will escape as it has each time before. Love, laughter and life, will abound and never be, overshadowed by these intermentent moments of rain on the river.