Fall in New England

Driving along tree-lined back-roads painted under a canopy of golden and sienna leaves.
Occasional pops of cherry red.
The music of Mozart on the airwaves.
A harvest of colors and sounds on an October New England morning.
I remember these days as a child; walking home from school and looking for the driest golden leaves I could step on, just to hear the crunch under foot.
Today was one of those days.
Blue sky.
Cooler temps.
A taste of winter in the air. The golden leaves on the sides of the roadway waiting for a child's footstep, and the crunch that followed.
Timeless.

AME

Midnight

In the still of the night,
under the warmth of the blankets,
his fingers find my hand.
He wraps them silently around my fingers.
I hear him breathe.
Slowly.
Deeply.
He's fast asleep.
But, somehow, his love for me is there.
His gentle touch in slumber
fills my heart.
Love. It never sleeps.

AME

Becoming - a poem by Andrea

Becoming me.

A difficult discovering...

of lost memories, 

births, 

deaths,

and forgotten dreams.

A painful process... 

of taking risks, 

losing,

winning,

and waiting.

A tender time...

of holding friendships

to the light,

touching the qualities

and imperfections woven within,

and sometimes doing without.

Becoming me.

Learning to believe

in a friend that has lived in my soul since time began.

To forgive the sins of the fathers,

and of the self.

To test the limits of laughter,

and tears.

To heed the call of instinct,

and not question actions guided by love.

Becoming me.

Understanding the importance of my life.

Embracing pleasure.

Looking out for number one,

yet treating all spirits with the gentleness and independence

I allot myself.

Becoming me.

Realizing that failure is another path to success,

That sorrow is not infinite,

That happiness is fragile,

and knowing that beyond today,

there will never be another me.

- AME September '89 

Calm after the storm

We were lucky.
The storm spared us
from power loss and ice dams.
This time.
Some were not so lucky -
losing power, property, and some - their lives.
New England is a beautiful place
with weather that can make each day a paradise
in Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall.
But weather patterns are changing.
The storms I welcomed in youth can now become threatening and violent.
The rain can turn to flood waters.
The warm days to scorching fires.
Yes, weather days are changing.
But, there is the calm that follows the storm
that still brings the wonder of blue skies,
the radiance of sunshine
and the song of hope in the voices of the birds in the air.
Storm. Calm. Hope.
The trifecta still works.

ame 2/9/13

Airport Diner

Voices bounce against each other
and echo against these thick, glass restaurant walls.

The heavy sound of dishes clashing

shout out from the kitchen door.

Silverware and glassware chime in,

while the abbreviated sentences of diners add to the breakfast noise - a conflagration of sounds.

The airport diner.

A stop for waves of hungry humans

waiting for their turn

to eat-and-run.

Waiting for their turn to consume moments, meals and time

before they fly away,

leaving echos of words in their wake.

ame

Sept 2011

Vanity

Age sneaks up on me like an invisible pen.

Drawing lines.

Adding depth and volume

to my neck and chin - previously smooth and slender.

It's challenging to see yourself in your mind's eye as the youthful young woman

you once were,

only to continue to be greeted by an older woman in the mirror.

There's still beauty there;

but, veils of wisdom and time have carved their memories into your smile and your eyes.

The spark of surprise and the blush of anticipation

can be found somewear in the valleys of wear.

Oh, how I miss those pristine fairways.

ame

1/11/13

It's been over a month since my Mookie passed on to Kitty Heaven. I have his ashes and my Ernie's ashes which I retrieved from the Animal hospital (Ernie passed on in 2006 and his ashes have been in storage there as I didn't have the emotional balance to pick them up until now). They were brothers and loved each other so very much. So, come the Spring, we'll have a little kitty burial in the back yard and let their Spirits free to run around in the yard and woods as they did when they were young.

I posted this tribute to Mookie in Dec 2012 when he died:

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My Golden Boy

He sat on a pillow in the middle of his cage at the mspca in Salem, Ma. He was 8 weeks old, gold, and the last of his litter. 

He was a tiny cat with ears too large for his head. No one wanted him; yet he positioned himself so regally upon that pillow, and he was the color of Halloween. Why not pick him up? He was soft and gentle. He nuzzled his way into the palm of our hands, and won our hearts. We called him Mookie in honor of Mookie Wilson - one of the great Met baseball players. His body quickly grew and balanced out his ears, turning him into a very handsome cat. 

Sleeping like a baby in his living years

Mookie wanted everyone he met to be his, so he would rub his chin against you as his mark that you now belonged to him. Everyone loved him: vets, handlers, friends and family. But, at the end of the day, he followed me upstairs, hopped onto the bed, and curled up next to me, and purred himself to sleep. He was my top cat for over 17 years. 

He died last night while sleeping comfortably. He had Cancer, but this was not expected. I've lost my little friend and I am very sad. He lived through my many life stages and slept by my side for these 17+ years. I will miss him more than anyone will ever know. God bless his little kitty soul that held so much love. My Golden Boy.

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Andrea