Waltzing Souls

Worn pines floors below creek and bend
Music’s melodic beat enchants
Entwined souls gliding
Slow sensual dance of paramours
Strong hand guides with gentlest touch
Euphoria captures my heart
Love engulfs my life

A Twinkle

The usual Saturday morning breakfast consisted of an English muffin toasted until crunchy covered with peanut butter and orange marmalade, fresh strawberries, and plain yogurt with a hint of honey. Nancy made sure the decaf black tea was strong with two sugars brimming in a porcelain tea cup painted with four leaf clovers. It was her sister, Grace's, favorite china pattern. After the tray was loaded, Nancy walked slowly into Grace's bedroom.
"Good morning, Precious."
"Nancy. You are the sweetest."
"Would you like to go to the park today to get that creaky body of yours out and about? "
"That would be wonderful. My old bones could use a bit of sunshine."

As Grace ate her breakfast, she and Nancy chatted about the day before them. Nancy smiled as she looked into Gracie's eyes; they twinkled with delight as they spoke. A twinkling eye can mean many things. The one that was twinkling at her right now was full of life, and the sole reason Nancy took care of her sister.

Nancy cleaned up from breakfast and poked her head in at Grace.
“Need more tea?”
"Excuse me, ma'am. Do you know when my mom is coming to get me? I am going to be late for cheer leading practice."
"Soon," as Nancy fluffed her sister's pillow, Nancy looked into Grace's eyes; the twinkle was gone. Only a blank confusing stare looked back.

Point of View

Asiya (ah-SEE-yah) stood in front of the hospital looking into the street; she saw nothing but rain. It was nearing the end of the monsoon season. The sun would come out soon, but it would take another month for the land to dry. With this thought, she smiled, opened her umbrella and ran for the city bus. As the bus weaved through the watery streets, Asiya gazed out the window. The cityscape made no impression; her thoughts kept her pre-occupied. Every detail swam through her head. This project had taken years to get off the ground. The government and private funding were a nightmare to get going, let alone the plans and permits. That was all behind her now, in two months, the architect’s drawing was going to become a reality. The bus came to a stop; Asiya snapped back from her thoughts and started the brisk walk home. Upon entering the main hallway, her mother called to her from the kitchen where hot Darjeeling tea was waiting for her. The smell of hot samosas filled the house. These were her favorites. The spiced potato filling with onion, peas and coriander surround by fried pastry was the perfect ending to a long week of work at the hospital.

* * * *

The final bell had rung indicating the exam was over. Numair (noo-MAIR) put down his pencil and looked over his calculations as he walked to the professor’s desk. Numair stared out the window. The rains were not as heavy now; the signal that the rainy season was coming to an end. This was the only time he could ever remember being so happy for rain. He even prayed to Allah for more rain, but he knew his prayer was selfish and arrogant and would not be answered. Gathering up his backpack, Numair headed out of the class room. He meandered down to the first floor and just stood in the lobby; finally, he walked over to the bench near the side wall, pulled out a history book and just read for a while. He was not interested in going home just yet.

The walls of the Mathematics department were old stone and cold. The noise of people echoed though the lobby and up into the stairwell. This building was built in the 1900’s even though the Government College University had been in existence for almost 60 years. An hour had past and Numair was finding himself a bit hungry. He packed up and headed for the bus stop. While riding home, he couldn’t help but notice how pretty the city always looked after the rains. Oral ledged dates the city, Lahore, back 4000 years.
While looking out the bus window, the Badshai Mosque came into view. The light rain created a bit of a mist around the orange, 17th century brick structure with spiraling towers. It seemed to be floating in the clouds. Numair just started at its beauty. His father took him there to pray during Ramadan every year. The bus turned the corner, and the mosque disappeared from site. The bus finally came to a halt. Numair grabbed his backpack and jogged home in the light rain; his mind cleared from his worries. As he opened the front door, he could smell the Samosas. He quickly put his items away and walked briskly into the kitchen. His sister and mother were engrossed in a conversation. “You ate all the mango chutney?” he pouted and stormed out of the kitchen.

* * * * *
Four months passed since the rains. Numair sat on the porch of the medical clinic reading one of his history books; while his sister closed up for the evening, he just wondering why he was here and not in school. His dad had insisted he chaperone his sister on her trips. They were only 3 days at a time every few weeks; she would be fine without him. There was another doctor here and two nurses. No one tried to compromise Asiya’s honor or ransack the center. He just didn’t see the point. Numair looked at the sun setting in the distance against the orange color of the mountains and decided to get ready for evening prayer. Something moving slowly in the distance caught his eye. As it came into view, he realized it was a woman pulling a child of 7 or 8 on a stretcher, which tied to her waist. “Asiya,” he screamed franticly, “Asiya.” She came running to the porch. As she turned to look, she saw the woman collapse to the ground from exhaustion. “Help me,” Asiya said as she grabbed her brother’s arm. They both took off running towards the woman and child. They frantically untied the stretcher from the woman. The child had a badly broken leg and cried in pain. The doctor and her brother picked up the stretcher and carried the boy as quickly as possible into the medical center. After the boy was placed safely on the examination room table, they both ran back out to help the woman into the other examination room.

“Numair, take care of her. Get her some water,” barked his sister as she ran into the other room to see about the boy. Numair, fetched a cup of water for the woman and listened. The woman explained how she came to carry her son by herself. Her husband managed a rather large herd of buffalo, and with sightings of thieves in the area, he was not able to leave the livestock unattended. Moments later, Numair heard his name called from the other room. He ran to his sister. As he entered the examination room, Numair thought he was going to vomit. The bone from the child’s leg was sticking out of the skin. He was in such a rush before he hadn’t noticed it until this moment.

“Numair, I need to you hold him while I set his leg.”
“The other doctor and nurses should be back from town soon…”
“This child cannot wait anymore; come help me!”
“Stand at his head and scoop your arms under his arm pits and hold him firmly…Now.”
Numair did as he was told, and within seconds, the boy was screaming in pain as Asiya pulled on his leg and popped the bone back into place.
“Numair, I need you to get a pan of 2/3rd water and 1/3 alcohol and a clean cloth.” Again, he did as told and then just stood by the boy. The sister explained how to bath someone. “Just maintain eye contact with him. Tell him a story from one of those books of yours.” Numair fumbled with the damp cloth for a second and began talking in a sing-song voice like his mother used a hundred times before when he was sick; he asked the boy his name.
“Sameer,” replied the boy.

“Well Sameer, there once was a prince named Lava.” Numair recanted the tale of how his city, Lahore, was created all the while keeping eye contact and wiping down Sameer’s face and arms. Asiya knew the cleaning had no physical medical purpose for mending the boy’s leg; however, it calmed Sameer while she formed his cast, and it gave her brother something to do. After the story told, the leg casted, and the boy had eaten, Numair sat next to Sameer for awhile without words.
Quietly in a very small voice Sameer spoke, “Evening Prayers, I didn’t say them.”
“I didn’t say mine either; do you want to say them together, now?”
“But I cannot get to the floor.”
“To be humble before Allah, simply bend at the waist as far as you can. Now bow your head.”
After making sure the boy was situated, Numair quietly knelt on the floor; together they said their evening prayers.

A Strange Day in July

A Strange Day in July

The car rolled into the gravel driveway; as soon as it stopped, Peter and Becky jumped from the car and started running. Their mother was yelling to them to change their cloths, but they didn’t listen. They just ran across the field and into the woods. Soon, they came to McMillan’s pond. Becky asked Peter to teach her how to skip stones across the pond’s cool blue water. “You do it like this…” said Peter as he showed Becky how he held the stone in his hand. ‘Watch how my arm throws it sideways and not overhand like a baseball.” Becky watched his arm movements closely. Peter threw the first stone, then the second. Just to show off, he throw with all his might, but the third stone came skipping back. Both children just stood and stared at the stone as it finally plopped into the water near Peter’s feet. Becky sat down on the large rock where she was standing.

Unbeknownst to the Brody kids, Ella hid in the cattails behind them snickering. She loved playing this game. The children never know what to do. All of the other kids just ran home, but not these kids. They just stared in amazement at the stone. Peter picked up another stone, turned and looked at his little sister. She smiled, and he threw it. They both watched it skip across the pond. Nothing. Then Peter threw the second stone; it skipped across the water. “Look at this,” whispered Ella to little Roxie sitting next to her. Roxie’s eyes grew bigger as she said “Look.” Ella pointed her finger at the skipping stone and then gave her finger a bit of a twitch. The stone reversed directions and skipped back towards the Brody kids. The two small girls nestled in the cattails just giggled quietly.

Becky screamed with amazement, “Do it again!” Peter picked up a stone and tossed it. Little Roxie clapped her hands and said, “Do it again!” and with that Ella twitched her finger at the stone. All of a sudden, a voice trying to shout but whisper at the same time said, “Cut that out! You’ll get into trouble.” It was Samuel, Ella and Roxie’s older brother. Ella looked at Samuel with an eye of defiance, and then she looked Roxie with a big smile and said, “Watch this.” Little Roxie parroted her older sister in a high pitched tone, “Watch.” Ella lifted both hands and began twitching all of her fingers.

Becky started laughing with delight as the stones around her and Peter started dancing in front of them some splashing against the water almost creating a tune. At this point, Peter looked at Becky and said,

“I think we should go home.”

“No, teach me. I want to make the stones dance,” yelled Becky with delight at seeing the stones frolic above the water.

“I’m not doin’ it.”

Becky paid no attention; she stood up and started to clap and dance with the stones.

Samuel grabbed Ella and Roxie’s hands and took them home.

Peter stood up and grabbed Becky’s hand. All of a sudden, the stones fell to the pond. There was a wrestling noise coming from the patch of cattails behind them. Peter and Becky turned towards the noise. They both looked at each other then back at the cattails. “Did you see?” Peter hesitated

“ Kids, they flew away. Where did they go? Peter, where did the kids go?”

The Pearl Diver

The Pearl Diver

On the southeastern coast of Honshu, the ancient port city of Tomonoura has faced the Seto Inland Sea since the beginning of time. Its Japanese landlords along with various other Asians occupied the city streets. Sprinkled amongst the natives were a few European men. Murtagh O'Farrell was one of these men. As he walked the streets from his docked ship towards one of the small beach coves north of the city, the locals always stopped and turned his way gazing at his tall, lanky stature topped with a tussle of reddish orange hair.

It was a time of adventure and great culture for it was 1867, and the world seemed open and alive. This was why Murtagh, captain of the Draper, came to Japan to trade exotic treasures, search for adventure, and acquire riches. That would be the tale he would weave as you shared sake while in port. However, every sailor knows a man who pulls into the same port year after year does it for one reason. Love.

As the road neared the north cove, the captain could hear the steady crashing of the sea against the tiny shore. A small gaggle of girls ranging from 11 to 17 years old was playing in the ocean surf. Upon further inspection, one noticed the organization of the children by 2 of the oldest. With buckets in hand, the girls were given directions to various locations out in the cove. They all began wading into the water then swimming towards their destinations. You see these were not just any girls; they were from a long line of Ama, pearl divers. They drove the coves and nearby sea for shells and abalone in order to harvest the mother-of-pearl.

Sitting in solitude on a rocky jetty was a gangly girl of thirteen years with a pale complexion. From a distance, the girl heard a whistle. She immediately dropped her shells and headed for the man standing on the beach. As her feet hit the sand, “Papa,” she shouted while running. Within seconds, they embraced. “My Ashling, I have missed you. Let me gaze upon you.” Her brown eyes were enclosed with a less pronounced Asian fold over her almond shaped eyes. Her skin was more yellow tones than of her father’s pinkish white skin. As Murtagh, looked at his daughter he saw only love. When the other children in the town looked upon Ashling, they saw only an awkward looking girl with flaming curly red hair.

Their time together as a family was always brief due to the captain’s travels. He saw her only twice a year.

“How are your diving skills?”

“Excellent. They said I cannot be an Ama because I am only half Japanese.”

“Hum…Precious, time will call you an Ama, you will see. You will not just be pearl diver; you will be the Pearl.”

Three years past since Captain Murdagh’s last visit, Ashling used this time wisely. She studied all the books her father had left for her. While standing on the edge of the cove as the sea touched her toes, Ashling practiced breathing. It was something taught to her by her maternal grandmother, one of the oldest Amas on the island. The other girls would mock her and call her Sabure meaning sand, but they meant is as an irritating granule or pebble. Her diving skills had become legendary though out the port city. Merchants paid dearly for the mother of pearl and pearls she and her grandmother found deep in the waters outside of the cove.

The northeast winds were heavy for several days. This was good sailing for the captain; he pulled into port a week ahead of schedule. Murdagh tended to his business during the mid-morning and took lunch while in town. This left him the afternoon to wonder up to the north cove. The wind carried a bit of a chill, but it cooled the skin from the hot, humid summer day. As he approached the cove, he prepared himself for this customary arrival whistle; instead, he was greeted by a sound he hadn’t heard in years. The elders of the cove called it the “song of the sea”. At first, the sound resembled a chant, but as he came closer, the chant blossomed into melody.

The captain stood in awe as the two women, one petite and old with years the other tall and slender with the radiance of youth, standing at the edge of the cove with their toes kissed by the last touches of the Seto Inland Sea practiced their breathing. Quietly, he sat in the sand and watched the two women swim out beyond the cove and drive for pearls. Upon their return to the shore, Murdagh whistled. The young woman turned towards the sound. She pulled the cap from her head revealing a mane of long auburn hair. “Papa,” Ashling shouted as she ran across the beach. As she came within steps of her father, he gasped at the site of her. “Look at the pearl, Papa. Look.”

The captain glanced at the black pearl and then into his daughter’s face. “It’s beautiful.”

facing Seto Inland Sea facing Seto Inland Sea

The Twilight Zone...

Creating the first draft of the baby shower list was a simple task. The general rules of etiquette were used to invite close friends, family including 2ND cousins, and a friend or two from work. So when Lily’s mom, Nancy, asked why Mother Wheeler wasn’t on the list. Lily just moaned, “She is just going to ruin everything like she always does. “
“Mother Wheeler is your only living great-grandmother.”
“Mom, she knocked Sarah’s bridal shower cake off the table.”
“Oh honey, she just tripped on the dining room rug.”
“We call her Cruella DeVil. She always has that awful scowl on her face.”
“Honey,” Nancy tried not to laugh, “You have to invite her. It’s not an option.”
Lily grumbled under her breath and wrote Cruel la on the guest list. There was a tear in her eye as she picked up the brochure from the bakery and looked through the cake flavor list. “Can I get her a personal cake laced with arsenic?” Nancy ignored Lily has she started writing out the invitations.

It was a beautiful June day in Stone Harbor, NJ. From the beach house porch, Lily could hear the ocean waves pounding the surf. At seven months pregnant, Lily weighed about 128 pounds. Her long blonde hair seemed to glow as the summer sun hit it. The sun dress Lily wore was white with big bright orange and pink geometric flowers on it. The empire waist had an orange ribbon with pink polka dots. The dress would seem too childish on any other grown woman, but on Lily, it seemed fitting. Not that she was childish; let it be known that she could be a bit bratty at times. Being the youngest of 4 will do that to a girl. However, Lily had this air of naivety that just seemed so surprising at times for a woman of 32 giving birth to her second child. Lily smoothed out her dress and proceeded into the house heading for the living room, which was full of ladies and baby shower gifts. As the guest of honor glided across the room towards the open chair being reserved for her, Lily hesitated a second before she passed Mother Wheeler. Her great grandmother sat perched on the sofa dressed in her usual black attire with a walking cane held out before her as if it was a royal scepter. Lily gave a forced smile to the old grouchy woman just as if she were a small child trying to please someone she feared. Just then a piercing pain came to Lily’s ankle, and within seconds, she was falling to the floor belly first.

Lily awoke in a hospital room unlike she had ever seen. As she looked around, nothing looked familiar to her. She wasn’t even sure it was a hospital room. The nurses who came into the room were wearing white dresses and little winged hats on their heads. Trying to get attention, Lily opened her mouth to speak by nothing came out. She was in such pain tears came to her eyes. That was when Lily noticed something strange. As she looked out the window, Lily saw sprawling city blocks, but it looked like a movie set of New York City from the 1920’s. The pain had become so unbearable she just closed her eyes and prayed for it to go away.

When she awoke again, Lily realized that her arms were in full casts. A nurse came over to the bed and started wiping her face with a cold cloth. The coldness of the cloth felt good against her warm skin.
“Now, there Mrs. Wheeler, bet that feels better. Don’t you worry about a thing. Your husband will be here soon so we can discuss your condition with him,” the nurse said calmly has she wiped down Lily’s legs. Thoughts were racing through Lily’s head. “Mrs. Wheeler, What the &*#$ does that mean? Mrs. Wheeler? What?” The nurse was walking out of the room when Lily finally pushed all the pain aside and in a desperate voice pleaded to the nurse, “My baby, nurse, what about my baby?” The nurse just walked away. Lily looked at the bump on her belly. With her arms in casts, Lily tried desperately to touch her stomach. She needed to feel the baby but couldn’t feel her baby from inside her anymore.

An entire day past before a thin, dapper looking man in a dark suit walked into the room. A fedora hat was perched just so on his head. As for his attire, it was obviously custom-made and reminded her of the type of suits the old Jazz musicians used to wear during the roaring 20’s. The vest had 5 or 6 buttons. Lily giggled to herself and thought, “A vest and cuffed pants with wing tipped shoes? Who is he, F. Scott Fitzgerald?” His bright blue eyes were attractive at first, but if you gazed too long into them, you would notice that they were angry and soulless.
“Little Annie is dead; thanks to your deplorable mothering skills. How could you let a 3 year old go running out into the street?” shouted the angry man.
“Who are you?” whimpered Lily through tears. The man walked towards Lily’s bed, and bent over her. She could feel his hot, sour breath on her face. “I am your husband, you stupid woman. And now you are worthless to me with broken wrists.” More tears streamed down her face as she stumbled over her words.
“The baby, what about the baby?”
“It’s dead!” and with that the man disappeared as fast as he had appeared.

Lily cried herself to sleep. When she awoke, she called for the nurse, but no one came. Lilly looked around the room. The walls were old white tiles, dirty and cracked. There were no signs of a TV or any medical equipment. Just a white enameled metal bedpan sat on the table next to her bed. As she looked out the window at the cityscape, Lilly saw something odd upon the window sill. Stones. Three roundish, grey stones resting on the sill. All lined up next to each other like soldiers on guard.

There were no visitors, only nurses came into the room to take her temperature and to feed her food. No one spoke to her about her baby. Lily only knew that Mrs. Wheeler had fallen down and tried to brace her fall with her arms. Each time the nurses entered, they would call her Mrs. Wheeler. Lily insisted her name was Lily, but the nurses would just smile nicely and told her she was stressed. After several days, the pain started to subside, and Lily was awake more than she was asleep. Seven stones now sat on the window sill. It was right after she had finished her lunch when Mr. Wheeler, her supposed husband, walked into the room. “Get dressed, Mary, it’s time for you to go to your brother’s house.” At that moment, a nurse walked in with some clothing and started dressing Lily. The man walked out of the room as his wife dressed. “What about the baby?” Lily whispered to the nurse.
“I’m sorry. You are going to have to wait until your body passes the baby,” the nurse whispered back. Tears started streaming down Lily’s face. She started crying so hard she began hyperventilating.

When Lily woke up, her eyes were still closed, but she could hear people talking and what sounded like a baseball game playing in the background. Slowly, she opened her eyes to see her real husband, Ryan, sitting next to her, holding her hand, but watching the TV. An IV drip was in her arm along with several wires attaching her to various pieces of medical equipment, and its humming sound was comforting to Lily. Ryan turned his head towards her, “Hey babe, you gave us a big scare.”
“The Baby?” she whispered.
“He’s fine, same as you.”
She closed her eyes with relief.

After Lily’s discharge from the hospital, she went to stay with her mother. The guest bed room was full of flowers. It brought a smile Lily’s face. As she walked into the bedroom, there were three stones on the window sill.
“Mom, why are there are there stones on the window?”
“Oh, it’s some tradition your dad’s family has.”

The night was long and full of tossing and turning. The morning seemed to take forever to arrive. It was seven in the morning; and Lily was exhausted. Thinking a shower would make her sleepy, she got up and took a long hot one. She crawled back into bed and promptly fell asleep. She awoke to Mother Wheeler staring at her. “Good of you to join us.” Lily looked around the room and wondered who the “Us” was. The Great grandmother just started at her hands. Then without warning, she rose from her chair and started walking out of the room. “Annie wasn’t your fault,” Lily blurted out. The old woman stopped in her tracks. She didn’t move. Lily continued, “Do you remember the stones on the hospital window?” Mother Wheeler nodded her head up and down ever so slightly, but kept her back to Lily. “I know what they mean,” said Lily in a hushed tone.

While Mary Wheeler lay in the hospital with her still born child, her husband filled with remorse over the loss of the youngest children, filed for divorce from his wife and gave his two boys, John and Milton, to Mary’s older sister. Mr. Wheeler kept the thirteen year old daughter so she could take care of the house. John and Milton went to school during the day and then would return to their aunt’s house. At night, they would slip out of the house, and down to the hospital to visit their mother. Since children were not allowed in the hospital, the boys had to take extreme care to sneak their way into their mother’s hospital room. She was always sleeping, so after each visit, the boys would leave a stone on the window sill to let their mother know they had visited.

The old woman slowly turned towards Lily. There was a small tear running down her cheek. “I never knew,” Mother Wheeler said as she looked up and saw the small stones lined up along the window’s ledge. A small smile came across her face.

Belated Christmas Poem for 2010

Christmas is coming. Bringing love and good cheer,
I just want to knock over those pre-light white reindeer.
Neighbor’s houses wrapped pretty and bright,
What have I eaten to make these pants so tight?

Party after party, Smile happy please;
Oh God, I just eat some really bad cheese.
Going over the list, what have I forgot;
This bustle twists my panties in a knot.

During the twelve days of Christmas, I panic and complain;
Then Christmas Eve comes and bad thoughts wane.
It fills me with joy seeing family and friends;
Peace and love; these thoughts I will send.