Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
I’ve noticed that as I’ve grown older, the span of years among my friends is much greater. I have several good friends who are older than my parents. That enlivens some conversations when I say, “Mom is getting older.”
I struggle with imagining having a friend who was twenty-five years older than me when I was, say, five, but if I wrote a novel about it, I’d probably call it, Her Oldest Friend.
Inflammation surged in her right shoulder through several days, demoralizing her. Pain afflicted her with the smallest motion, dressing, cleaning, even brushing her teeth and combing her hair. Trying to think through options, she put bread in the toaster and considered conversation with her rheumatologist. He disliked giving cortisone shots. What else was there for the agony?
The toast popped up. Flinching her shoulder at the sound, she cried out in pain and fell to the floor, where all she could do was laugh and cry. Sometimes, that’s all that’s left.
Watching others cope with diseases and declining health, slowly moving hunched bodies as they struggle to remember simple words and phrases and master common movements, do you ever wonder, what’s secretly going on inside yourself that’s waiting to come out?
It’s like looking for the monster hiding under the bed.
He sighs when he wakes up, realizing it’s another day, and sighs when he gets out of bed, stands, and sits, motions stiff with pain. Sighs slip out as he makes his meals and eats them, and as he reflects on his life. Sighs accompany every task, as if his world is filled with strife. Sighing, he works hard to do what he can, trying to get by, contemplating his death, sighing, holding on, and trying to stay alive.
Do you ever seem to wait literally forever (right, no hyperbole or exaggeration here) for something like pizza or an ATM delivering your cash, so you begin a drum roll, because it seems apropos?
No? Is it just me, then? Are you implying that I’m impatient?
Went out to cut the grass. It started raining. I hustled my equipment into the garage and went into the house. Looking out, I saw the rain stop. The clouds parted and let blazing sunlight through. Went back out to cut the grass. The skies darkened. Drops began falling.
Refusing to be deterred by the weather, I went back into the house, opened a bottle of wine, and poured a glass. Then I went out onto the covered porch and watched the rain-shine show.
See, I wasn’t deterred. I adjusted. When life gives you lemons, open a bottle of wine.
Got my special space
at the special place
checking out the people
thinking what a waste
but for God and grace
there I go
Been lucky again
just like I always been
living life like it’s a mortal sin
I’ve always had an in
because of love and kin
and here I am
here I am
on the top
of the bottom
there I go
thinking I have problems
here I am
working the middle
there I go
again and again
you say
he’s such a waste
no style or grace
what’s the matter with him?
but that’s not the truth
you don’t know what he’s been through
thinking that he’s just like you
there you are
on the top
of the bottom
there you go
thinking you have no problems
here you are
working the middle
there you go
again and again
Before time lies
and says you died
and that maybe you never were
find the sun
and get things done
stroke a cat and feel a purr
look into yourself
for what you want to be
and how you want to live
before time lies
and says time to die
and you find that it’s the end
He doesn’t remember the days
he went from being remarkable to unnoticed
loved to unwanted
cherished to forgotten
he was just another human sliding down the spectrum of life
The perfume of you and I
still intertwines
with the thoughts of what we doing
what we meant to say
before we went away
left me wondering who we think we’re fooling
we never talk
and stay distant in our walks
with a feeling that something’s brewing
it never boils and never perks
but it’s always there, it always lurks
I think our love is cooling
Michael Seidel, writer 