Upside Down Kris

The Last Gift  I miss them. I miss them already. They hesitated at the driveway's end, and my heart danced a bit. Would they turn around and walk back into the house? A cell phone tone jarred my thought pattern. I could see the passenger in the car put her cell phone to her ear. No, it was just them being conscientious and reminding us to close the garage door. It's one of the reasons I love them so much. I remained at the window in my fuzzy, cotton-pink robe until my wide viewing angle narrowed too much to see them anymore. They were gone. Still, I stood there, contemplating the snow chunks as they stroked frosty highlights into the evergreens. The evergreen took on a subtle tone of winter and wanting to stay. Truthfully, the them could be anyone I love that I will soon leave behind again. Am I ready for this? I could stay all day at the picture window, pictures of the past scurrying by. I am mesmerised by the movement of the snow, like the flames of a fire. It is steady and c

The Getting Back To It was the tiny tents that tugged at the corners of my mouth, twitching them into a smile. Their strings were well planted in the ground, and it was the care behind the ties that got me.  Most of the tents had stiff poles, their "skin" stretched just enough to cover the shrubs underneath. The tents were private–a cozy suite showing just how important each bush was to the landscape. Some other houses had cloths draped over the underbrush resembling children dressed up as ghosts for Halloween. I half expected that if I lifted up one of the short sheets I wind find a giggling toddler underneath. In front of one house a piece of fabric only half-covered the green head under it, perhaps to emphasize the red, white, and blue lights still decorating it. The scene for some reason struck me as intimate–so much so that it could have been a child's fort lit up by colored lights in order to read the tales of some passed down story book. Maybe the story spoke of Ch

The    Storm The wisps from the coal coating of sky shift with surprising alacrity. They remind me of a heavy set dancer light on the toes. There are cracks in the clouds, and you can glimpse a moment of periwinkle through them before they dance on. The stringy leaves from tropical plants stretch out in heavy gusts of anticipation. Despite the constant pushing the air rests where it is, stubborn in its humidity. It is an air full of waiting and waiting in full. I am in the middle, electrified even before the lightning strikes. I can feel it coming, the inevitable cry out, the unleashing of a who-knows-how-long build-up. I spin around, my hair whipping my face, the dampness pearling on my skin. But I am not cold. The energy beads hold heat until the storm comes. °°° Later in the day it is glorious–a glorious rage of rain thrashes around the pond outside. There are strange red-beaked ducks who have taken over the banks standing up to the storm. They are in the direct range of the downpou

Through the Eyes of theDog Einstein stared into my soul the other night. He searched and searched until he was sure of something. Just what that something was I’m not sure of, but I do know he was communicating it intently through his gaze. Einstein has wide, soil colored brown eyes set on the opposite sides of his boxer head. He is not an avid barker, although he growls softly sometimes to get you to play. Other than that, he relies on the power of his eyes to pull you in. He holds you in them and to them until you truly understand him. Then, as if under a spell you open the door or fill his bowl with food. However, the other night I kept misinterpreting his gaze. I tried to get up, thinking he wanted more space on the couch, but that wasn’t it. More staring. His owner explained that for the most part he has cracked the code behind Einstein’s mesmerizing looks, although he was just as baffled as I was with Einstein’s constant eye connection on the couch. Then it came to us that maybe