I still remember the day
I first put on glasses
Everything looked so crisp and clear
But what I didn’t expect
Was the color
The way it jumped into my vision
The brightness of the clarity Continue reading “I Still Remember”
Tag: Anxiety
On Being Present with Fear
“Will I be OK?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the pool.
“Of course! Mommy and Gammy are right here!” To myself I thought, “Even on the bottom step the water would only reach your chest. Why is this such a big deal?”
We were swimming for the first time in a long time. He only came to watch his baby brother swim, but something in him still remembered the exhilaration of moving through the water. So, he consented to wear a swim suit, and then decided to put it on in advance. When we arrived, he put his feet straight in, bottom firmly planted on the side of the pool, kicking and splashing.
But now we were asking him to go all the way in.
“Will I be OK?” he asked again. Continue reading “On Being Present with Fear”
The Sepia Room
Today I sit in my usual place, sipping tea and watching the passers-by.
Within these walls, I live in the safety of the past, everything faded and known. Muffled voices come through the crackle of an old radio, narrating a brown-and-tan world of well rehearsed dance and drama.
As I peer through the sagging window, nothing threatens, nothing surprises. The memorabilia of past joys collect dust on a nearby shelf, comforting reminders of love, belonging, and home. From this vantage point I can participate in the present at a distance (only I must ignore the cracks that might let in a beam of something new).
It is safe, yes, and also numbingly familiar. Continue reading “The Sepia Room”
In Pursuit of More 