In Your Hands Or Face

Sometimes you just have to take things into your own hands.  Now the police will tell you this isn’t wise and there is no possession that is worth your life, and of course they are correct. But sometimes instinct kicks in.

Like when a mother and her adult daughter went on an errand to grab some items from a 7-11. They were just out and about, doing their thing, when someone tried to steal their stuff.  The mother swung her bag of items at the would-be thieves and the daughter, well she had hot cocoa in her hand so she threw the contents of her cup in their direction.  The assailants fled, and no one was hurt, but you know the police frown upon this type of thing.

I’ve often wondered what I would do when confronted in such a fashion, the kind where you can’t just ignore your way out it.  That happened to be recently as well. A rather derelict looking individual came up to me asking for money for a cup of coffee.  Not threatening as per say, except it was dark out, I was alone and he had managed to come at me from an angle so I was trapped against a door leading to the stairs.

When I tried to ignore him, he flipped open a tiny little switchblade.  And that’s when my mouth took over.  I asked him where was he planning on getting his coffee from and what size of coffee was he looking for?  He looked at me like I had lost my mind, backed away and then just kept getting further away from me. 

Of course that’s when help showed up in the form of a foot patrol officer who asked if everything was alright.  You see I didn’t know the door I was backed into was locked so I couldn’t have made for the stairs if I wanted to.  I explained the situation, pointing to where the man was now on a bench pretending to be asleep. And the officer shook his head and said he had never thought to question someone like that before. And he didn’t recommend it. It wasn’t in his rule book.  But if that worked and I was okay he’d be dealing with the individual who was loitering illegally on the bench. 

Because sometimes your mouth takes over, or before you know it, you are just taking things into your own hands.


Never Anticipated This

I never anticipated that where I was born, what I did for a living or who I professionally associated with could result in me being unable to freely travel to countries.  Now I can’t change where I come from.  And I will be hanged if I will let anyone tell me who I can and cannot associate with.  Same goes for what I do for a living and I’m fully aware that what I do is something that a lot of people feel is unnecessary.

Perhaps if I had been born in a different country I wouldn’t feel so strongly attached to having had the freedom to choose my career. I may not even feel so strongly about keeping my career, but I was born in a country where the government did not dictate my choices.  And I was blessed to grow up with parents who didn’t tell me I couldn’t do things because of my gender or such.

I cherish my freedom to travel, to speak and to associate.  I also cherish the position I’m in that allows me to help others, to be a voice of the voiceless.  And now it is rather possible that I will have to consider which of these I value the most.  Or perhaps it’s a case of which of these is the best to continue to use for now so I can hold onto the others for when I need them.  At the same time I have to consider if it is possible that I may not be able to ever regain back that which others which to take from me.  And this time I know I’m not the only person in this situation.

What Need For Speed Taught Me

So I met a friend for coffee the other day. A friend I haven’t seen in a while. Life kind of got in the way of us getting together, well that and occasionally an ocean or two and a few thousand (give or take) miles. Now with this friend, let’s just say we clicked right away. I’m not sure how or why, but we just got each other from our first meeting. It was like we were always friends.

While we were having coffee, well technically she was having a tea latte of some type while I savored, or is that devoured, a coffee, we caught up on missing time. You know all the usual stuff, except her what’s new news was that her husband was dying. She didn’t lead up to it, didn’t soften the blow, just told me that he was dying and had a few months at best left.

Usually this is news you come up to in some what of a gentle fashion, or at least a slow lead up. But she felt there was no need for it. How she told me wasn’t going to change the fact he was dying. It wasn’t going to ease her pain or her loss either. She felt it as a raw open wound every moment of her life and she let her way of telling people be just as raw. It wasn’t mean. It wasn’t deliberate. It just simply was the way she said it.

She said that she learned that she had a need for speed these days, every second she spent on the road away from home was a second she’d have less with her husband. And yet, here she was, spending time away from him because life does go on doesn’t it? She found that with her desire for speed in getting back to him she also no longer considered things in the same light. A speed limit shifted from a hard fast rule to just something that was placed on a road. It didn’t’ take into account driver’s skill or the car’s performance. She also no longer worried about driving as fast.

Basically she was far more willing to take risks these days if it meant more time with him. And in having a higher tolerance and acceptance to taking risks, her frustration level with the slower, more cautious people was growing to the point of no return. And still she sat across from me, having a tea latter while she explained all of this to me. Her anger, her frustration, her despair all tumbled out and onto the table, along with a speeding ticket.

The ticket, she told me, didn’t really matter. Not in the big picture. She was certain there would be more of those as time became more valuable. She was positive there would be one for the drive to the airport for their final vacation. The type of vacation where only one person comes back in the same state as they left.

And then she would have a different need for speed. Speed would be important to get past those long and lonely hours. What she would be running to I wouldn’t be able guess. What she would be running away from? Herself and an empty house.

We visited far longer than I had thought we would and when I got home I looked at my four-footed companion in wonder. Marveling at her ability to simply live in the moment. Maybe if we figured this out the need for speeding would be less.

Of Silver Strands And Sunlight

Ii was watching the sunlight play across the odd silver strands in Beloved’s hair as he had his morning tea, wondering how this came to be.  Not the silver in his hair, nor the fine lines around his eyes when he laughs or smiles.  Rather how I came to this becoming my morning view.

I know one day, those silver strands will no longer be odd, but rather come upon his head.  And surely those creases around his eyes will deepen and may acquire friends, but  I hope that’s from many more years of laughter and smiles.

If not for a strange set of circumstances I would have a different morning view.

Some people say things happen for a reason, there is no such thing as circumstances.  I’m not so sure what I honestly think, be it circumstances, happening for a reason I do not understand or what.  All I do know is that I am grateful for this, my morning view.  I also know I shall never have the words, not adequate ones, to expression my gratitude and appreciation for the man who sits across from me.

For this poor being knows not what he has gotten himself into.  The crazy whirlwind of emotions and actions that make up who I am.  The need to fill my life with adventures, to reach beyond my stretch and see and feel more.  The chaos that is my life and filled with paws,  wild ideas and intense beliefs.

Perhaps, though, he know all of this and in his own way is prepared.  If not, I’m sure he will figure out how to hold on, and let the light play across the silver strands!

It Lives

Well friends, I don’t really want to tempt fate,  but I have to tell you.the orchids are still alive!😁. It’s actually a wee bit scary for me because other than herbs and african  violets I seem rather content to happily kill plants.  Not that I mean to, but somehow I end up killing plants.

Beloved isn’t much better.   Actually he is worse because he forgets to water them and then when he remembers, he over waters them.  As though this will somehow balance things out.

ive pointed out how we can’t do this, it’s akin to forgetting to feed the dog for a while and then cramming a ton of food into the poor creature.  It just doesn’t work.  There are some things that you just can’t say balance out that way.

so every day I have to bring up the courage and cautiously peek to see how the orchid is doing.  Yes friends, cautiously.  As in tip-toe over to the plant, whisper to ask how it’s doing.  Call me crazy!  But friends  im terrified, truly terrified, that if I speak too loudly or walk to heavily, the magic and wonder of the fact this plant is still alive will vanish!  Poof!  Alive one day, dead the next.

I’d love to say it’s because of something im doing, but I suspect that rather this orchid is a survivor despite my attention!😉