I don’t write to be famous, I don’t write to be known, I write because I am and I want to be read. How sad to fill a room with paintings no one sees or play music no one hears. Writing is talking without sound, singing without score and dancing without movement and yet, it is all of them. It is a solitary art conjured from thought and expressed by the need to communicate.

HEAD-SLAPS, SPEED-BUMPS and LIGHT-BULBS, one woman's WTF, oops and ah-ha moments of life.

They were published once, and as every writer knows, once is not enough.



Monday, November 28, 2016

The in between


Here along the edge of Long Island Sound, the by-the-minute stretching and relaxing of the ocean, is called tides.  High, low, as well as storm and neap tides are the constancy we lookers live with. The time of tide I find most interesting, and a bit confusing, is during the milliseconds when the ocean rests; it’s the breath the water takes just before it flips to either coming in or going out.  When you’re watching, it’s almost impossible to tell when it switches to going the other way. But, if you’ve stood on the shore long enough to feel your feet settle deeper in the sand as the water washes you in, you know, because you know.

My feet have settled in life long enough to know that for us, all of us, the tide has flipped. Storms-a-comin’, yup. Washouts, hell yes. Hard to know exactly when the rain, wind and flooding will stop so I turn to the experts who used to have all the answers and now speculate.

Within the family dynamic some flipping has been going on here too. Good flips, flips beckoning the sun in a good way, a very good way, almost too good. Is that possible?

For me-the-writer, I’m still taking a breath, paused at the shore wondering if I’m going out or coming in. Maybe it’s the time of year, so much going on, or maybe it just is what it is: the in between.

If I’m out of the sand flats the tide will soon overtake me, and if I’m standing at the high-water line, it will be going out without me. So what do I do? I pay attention.

When was the last time your tide flipped? And, were you paying attention?

3 comments:

  1. Wow...this is sheer poetry, my dear! I missed you. I personally think that the world has gone mad. But I also think that when everything is shifting, something new can slip in through the cracks…I'm counting on it! ;-)

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    1. Oh Lilac, you are so kind.
      I'm hoping the cracks fill in during the shift too. It's a little scary out there.

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  2. Merry Christmas to you and yours, my dear! Thinking of you! :-)

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