This Ain't Nothing

Friday’s mental siphoning usually happens on the drive to and from work. Considering options, the weighing of alternative routes, and roads less traveled – it generally shows up in blips and blurbs of thought. Today being a Friday, the course continued as I ticked away the minutes following 18-wheeled flatbeds and milk haulers up the Thruway. I give friendly waves to the milk haulers. I figure we need them to know they’re important and are of the few and proud left helping to feed this country.

My mp3 player buzzes on with the song Every Reason Not to Go and I am reminded of my dear baby sister playing that same song and singing along as a reminder to my brother. At the time, he was dreaming of the consideration to work at crop harvesting and the very idea of him leaving left all of us excited, yet sad. He stayed; for now. But I could hear her singing as I listened and put my blinker on to move into the right-hand lane for someone who appeared to have a much more important place to go than I.


Thoughts: *every reason not to go…how about every reason TO go? How about that? Let’s see, number four-hundred and seventy three would be:


 - No matter the direction you point from our house at the center of Main Street, you would find friends, family, love


- Where we work hard with the feeling of sweat on our shirts Monday through Friday, and even Saturdays – but we pray for the chance to do it again the next week


- Where Sunday morning church service is a reminder to do better, to do right and to do the best that you possibly can every day


- Where street signs stand as memory markers for years of reminiscing on what it means to be raised well


- Where greenery flourishes: happy plants equal happy heart


- Where there’s good food on the table and music in the air


- The stars! January through December they’re outstanding, all wrapped in a blanket of Milky Way and falling periodically through the night sky with just the right amount of time to place a wish


- Where accountability marries responsibility – that’s a good one


- Community – have we forgotten? Family, friends, neighbors working to support encourage and understand each other – that makes a community


- Where I will write my books, paint my art, raise my family, teach and cook and clean and entertain those well off and less fortunate than I which gives us culture.


- And mostly – the reason to go: Family. (They are my heroes, they are my weakness)



All that I could muster at this point, was the desperate plea: “God, please protect us and show me how…”. As I spoke, a car pulled in front of me from the right and my shuffled mix of songs switched to the next in line. The crystal hanging from the rear-view mirror dangled like a pendulum and I look ahead to the car that was so hasty in their driving. That’s when I noticed the license plate ahead read: “UR VALUE”, the song played on with the words “This Ain’t Nothin’” and the sun shining through my windshield passed through that pendulum and showered me in rainbows. Promise. Remember the promise.



And there was peace.

The Right to Write: Monarks

I am mostly raw. Bare bones adjusting turns to keep Spring winds from gusting through my rib cage and bringing about too many gasps from the floating head on top of a spinal column with slight curvature. Yesterday’s ravens made carrier pigeons look as bedazzled as a peacock – as they laughed mockingly at my forward (slowed, but still forward) movement to make things righted again.

At 12:23pm I received a phone call from the school…something, something full body rash…something, "yes, pick him up."  Engage instinct. In less than an hour I arrived at a monitor affixed to a brick wall and adjusted my dress in the mirrored doors. I pushed the big, black button, wishing it were red and then answered the static-ridden “*garble, garble can I help you?*” from the wall box.

“Yes, I’m here for my son”. The doors unlock.

And as quickly as I am inside, the desire to get back out again jumps to the front of the line. I go through the motions though: sign the pink sheet, initial, date, half-smile, palm breath-check, quasi-admire art work that’s outdated, sigh on the inside, decide which one of the three clocks in the room I want to reference for the time (they’re each different) …and wait.

The waiting part gets the most response. Similar to visiting a zoo to find the lioness on the outside of the bars – you’re gawked at. It is the perfect opportunity for onlooker to throw supposition and what-if theories into the wind and see whose gossipy ad-libs are most favored. Like, “maybe they let her out on purpose?”. I could have saved the Monarks time by proclaiming them all winners and chewing on my arm or sucking on the end of my sweater sleeve. That seems too easy though. I’m not sure what my latest ailment by their count is anymore. I would have to throw the wow-factor in there if I wanted to trip them up.

I started thinking *maybe unkempt and woodsy…or becoming a deliberate fashion faux-pas…possibly painted and rail thin, make them think I’m depressed and medicated*. I stopped when I realized I had just described 78% of the population or thereabouts. Turns out that acting normal and keeping it together is more of a host for presumption than drooling on yourself or eating random paint chips. I had thought myself amusing for wearing dangly earrings that clanged against my necklace like wind chimes; certainly, straightening my hemline before being seen publicly would make them wonder. Eh, anyway.

I queried the art work for origination, read something about a “community of learners” and counted floor tiles on my way to the classroom. I waited again. And then two, three, four ladies came out, gave me the once-over and then returned to their learning den. Lioness. Outside. Bars. No words uttered, but I filled in the script with what I knew was being thought: “Oh, yyyoou’re his Mommmm, ohhhh…”. I almost wanted to do the thought-process aloud for them: “Now you take what you see and add it to what you thought you knew about me. Just like legos! See how they don’t match? Yea, that means that one piece doesn’t fit with the other one. I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to make sure you have the right information to go with the correct observation, okay? Ohhkay.”

*big smile, lots of teeth*.

Not long after I had my son in-tote and we skipped out the front doors; saying goodbye to the wall box until our next showing.