Category Archives: Uncategorized

A Random Walk Down Wall Street

 

She sat directly across from me on the subway this morning.

I didn’t notice her until the last three stops even though the car wasn’t particularly crowded. A young, well dressed woman (not much older than either of my daughters), her eyes red and flooded with moisture, obviously trying hard to focus on her surroundings rather than anyone or anything near her. Her mind was clearly in some other place.

Whatever the cause, she seemed to be in great pain. My mind immediately went to some recently lost love. You know, the kind of wound that feels so much like death at that age but on this side of the divide you know with certainty that it will heal. Then I wondered whether she had just been given some bad health news about one of her parents. Or about herself.

I felt myself beginning to absorb some of the pain that I saw reflected through her eyes. It was real and it was profound. But still, we made no eye contact.

When I got up for my stop, she did as well. Likely because I knew that we’d never see each other again, I looked directly into her eyes and told her, choking back some of my own heaviness, “I hope that you have a good day.” Profound I know.

She smiled, thanked me, and quickly returned the sentiment.

It happened that we walked in the same direction for several blocks, neither of us talking to the other or even acknowledging the other’s presence. These things are supposed to finish up by our going separate ways. This was awkward.

I suddenly realized that she might think that I was following her, or might even try to hurt her, at this dark, quiet, lonely 6 a.m. hour. I quickly began outpacing her so that I was no longer coming up from behind. Minutes later, though, we entered the same building. Even more awkwardness now if we actually had to talk.

The lobby security guard, Mr. George, greeted me as he always does, “Good morning Mr. Tom” as we then mock salute each other and extend our hands.

The young woman was right behind me. He then called out a “good morning” to Miss Rachel, informed her that I was his lawyer – a running gag between us – and she smiled at us both. We then exchanged formal greetings courtesy of Mr. George.

We finally went our separate ways, even if only to different elevator banks here near Wall Street.

Peace

Copyright 2019

Image Credit: Pixabay

Title Credit: Burton G. Malkiel

 

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At Winter’s Door

Putting distance between myself and yesterday no longer changes anything.

Gone is any confusion about starting over, as is the faith one has in options yet to be explored.

Today, I carry with me yesterday’s scars, last week’s baggage, and a lifetime of memories.

Some are even real.

But winter brings its own largess, only one of which is sleep. And with it contemplation, which often tricks the mind looking back

When at winter’s door.

 

Peace

Copyright 2019

Image Credit: Pixabay

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I Always Come Back To You

 

Doors swing out, dead leaves fall, years push by us.

I’m always on the lookout for the latest new thing,

the next big undertaking, one more shiny penny.

But I always come back to you.

 

There is nothing so enlivening as the wandering out.

The chance to manufacture for ourselves the ideal,

the perfect, the everlasting – if only for a moment.

But I always come back to you.

 

Yet I haven’t fooled anyone, least of all myself, not

today anyway. The doors have closed, the leaves

have all scattered, and I’ve stopped pretending,

That I always come back to you.

 

Peace

Copyright 2019

Image Credit: Pixabay

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Now That I Have Your Attention

 

Resting by my side, his breathing is a bit less labored today than it was yesterday.

I hope the fall’s coolness will help relieve some of the difficulty that dogged him through the summer’s heat – and yes, that pun was fully intended.

At nine, Toby still acts like a puppy. But mostly now in spurts.

You’re more likely to catch him taking a quick snooze next to me while I write rather than find him offering his favorite shredded and wet toy to throw.

His eyes remain sharp, his hearing strong. And he can still summon up any amount of courage to defend us against all manner of flying, hopping, crawling things that make their way into our house.

That last fly never had a chance.

Does he understand anything at all about time? Does an hour make any more difference than does a day? Can he sense that tomorrow may never come for either – or both – of us?

I find myself becoming more like him every day.

The need for rest. The unending search for a quiet, warm, perfect spot in which to nap. An undeniable preference to interact with others only from behind a screen.

And time enough for nothing but today.

Actually, he’s become more like me.

Peace

Copyright 2019

Image Credit: Own Photo (Toby)

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Today

 

Today is the day that I’ve been looking forward to, seemingly forever. The day that I can finally step outside to forge a new path back home.

It’s been a very long time since you and I met up here. And while you look exactly same, I have aged 100 years.

You should know that I’ve only just begun to realize how much smarter the heart can be, how much more captivating the soul. I’ve still got so much to learn about love and beauty and grace.

And the incorruptible power of laughter.

Our years together flashed by faster than lightening in a bottle. But today begins anew a countdown measured solely by a broken timepiece. One silenced so many years ago like the cold and distant memory of some long forgotten winter.

All this, some might say, just so that we can better understand the urgency of our quiet, ignoble passing.

I, too, believe it to be so.

Peace

Copyright 2019

Image Credit: Pixabay

 

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Mountain View

 

If your focus is set on that immediate next step instead of the walk still ahead,

If your movements fail to reflect the broken patterns discovered along the way,

If your single minded pursuit can outrun your desire for loveliness and grace,

You may never understand why a mountain is its most majestic from a distance.

Peace

Copyright 2019

Image Credit: Pixabay

 

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Dreamers

 

Somewhere in the torrent of words between us, we still exist.

What was once aloneness recast itself first into distraction.

Offering up daily excuses, we later failed to meet up on

common ground. But substituting hot dreams for the

stone-cold hard work of love never saved anyone.

And silence itself is now an open door.

 

Peace

Copyright 2019

Image Credit: Pixabay

 

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In The Letting Go

 

Surrendering first to the colors of aging and soon enough delivered by the wind, there is no more graceful exit than a leaf letting go in the fall. For all its insignificance there seems much, still, to take away.

But I am neither moved nor envious.

For I am not a leaf and not at all graceful in the letting go.

Peace

Copyright 2019

Image Credit: Pixabay

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Precise Moment

 

There is a precise moment that separates day from night, inhalation from exhalation, life from death.

It is within that space, where there exists neither boundary nor border, that the eternal becomes the present and the present disappears.

We will find each other there.

Peace

Copyright 2019

Image Credit: Pixabay

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The Forever Tourist

 

I think that late summer in New York City is the perfect time and the perfect place for that frozen image you just snagged of your traveling companion.

It’s safeguarded, now, for the person you’ve yet to become, the one who’ll be looking back with little memory of the day’s particulars.

Except, perhaps, for this brief photo flash that’s likely already been uploaded and shared and liked a hundred times.

It may even thrill your children’s grandchildren.

Or maybe it will help you – one day – to cut through the increasing haze of your own bruised and battered mind. At least long enough to give you a second chance to revisit this exact spot.

For the very first time.

Although you didn’t see me seeing you, we will forever share this moment, this space.

And one last indulgence of late summer in New York City.

Peace

Copyright 2019

Image Credit: Pixabay 

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