A Way to the Heart

I believe in the healing power of a home cooked meal. I say there is nothing as heartwarming or welcoming as a table filled with plates of food, because food is love, and aside from the nutritional value is the beautiful gesture that comes during its preparation.
Some of my warmest memories are linked to great meals. Some of the memories are from crowded family tables and some are more intimate and candlelit. Like the time I made acorn squash, mashed with butter and sweetened with brown sugar. I plated this with chicken and served it as the first meal I ever prepared for the girl that became my wife.

Food is love . . .

After a long day at work, I had the kind of day that left my bones aching and my Continue reading

butterflies and the times

I began my shift at 5:00 this morning, and like most days, I started with a cup of coffee, a long stretch, which followed with a loud yawn, and then I changed out of my clothes and into my uniform. I grabbed my tools and did the best I could to wipe the sleep from my face. I was stationed on the 11th floor and waiting for the water to drain from the building’s sprinkler system.
After running through different stairwells and shutting different valves, it was time to drain, and wait for the repairs.

One of the interesting facts of my location is the building was completed in 1927. It was the tallest building in the world . . . for six months. And sometimes after demolition, I find things tucked in Continue reading

A quick morning thought.

This morning, I sat on a bench on the platform where the morning train carries its share of bodies into a constantly moving city. I faced south because the south side was the sun’s side. Its early orange globe began its hike above the morning horizon, and other than a few strips of pastel clouds, the sky was beautiful and clear.
Below at street level, Sunrise Highway scattered with an early version of life, which would soon congest with traffic, and angry drivers behind steering wheels would complain about other drivers on their cell phones and curse at the rearview mirror about the cars that tailgate behind them.
Continue reading

Junkie Poem: Nods and Metaphors

 

Tiny bells chime in my ears and the world becomes soft.
The rush pulls me in and I am overrun
I am overtaken and swallowed into the warmth of beautiful lies

Outside . . . an ambulance keeps passing my window.
It’s the same one, I think,
and the whispers I hear have apparently arrived. Continue reading

the mechanics of sanity

Like any morning, I was up earlier than anyone else in my home. I paid my respects to the coffee gods, and after pressing the magical blue button on the coffee machine, I poured myself a cup, and then I made my way into the room I refer to as my section of the world.
I never change this room much. I keep it as is, and when the sun comes up, I twist the clear plastic rod to crack open the blinds and let the sunlight in.
This is part of my daily process; this how I prepare myself for the day and this is where I sort out the thoughts that clog inside my head.
I have a similar process during the sunset, and whenever possible, I like to Continue reading

The Girl of my Dreams

After all the turns and changes in my life; after all the pitfalls and poor choices,
I knew that somewhere in this world there was love for me.

I dreamt of you once, though I’m not sure if I ever told you about it.
You were sitting on the steps of a green wooden porch in front of a white shingled house.
There was a screen door behind you, which was white with black screens, and the inside door behind it was partially opened.
This was somewhere in an upstate cottage or bungalow and you were smiling.
I don’t remember anything else about the dream.
I only remember you sitting on the porch . . . and your smile.
It was perfect.

I was very young then. I didn’t know who you were or Continue reading

It works . . .

My friend Jack once told me, “Kid, the best revenge is good living.”

It was my last day in treatment and I followed through with the usual handshakes, farewell hugs, and the well-wishes that came from the other patients.
The morning flew by and my bags were already packed, but there was something stagnant about Continue reading

about depression

In the wake of a recent tragedy, I feel the need to explain some of my own darkness in order to shed some light on the effects of depression.
Depression is a mental virus or cancer that decays from within. I cannot pinpoint when my struggle began. I suppose it began when I was introduced to the classrooms at school.
This was where I learned about my differences from other people. This is when I realized I was different in size and strength. I learned about the different structures of popularity and I struggled to fit in.

But let me pause here . . .
Before I go on, I will explain that I am not licensed on this subject in any way. I am not a therapist or a doctor.
This is only an account of what happened to me and my survival. . .

At a young age, nothing seemed easy or reachable to me, and whatever did come Continue reading

prose: reflections and my friend the old tree

The other morning I woke and the sun was the brightest I had ever seen. Its yellow beams touched down, glistening through the trees and onto my street, which was still wet from the morning’s dew.
I stepped onto my front porch and the wind was perfectly still, which I interpreted to mean that I should be still, at least for the moment.

I live on a quiet street near the edge of my town. I say this town is mine, not only because Continue reading

Sunday’s Thought 8/10/2014

 

This will not be the first I mention size as it relates to time in my entries.
And I doubt it will be the last.
It is proven that our sense of time changes as we grow. Whereas, a year in my childhood was slow, a year in my adulthood passes too quickly.
Time changes as we grow in size, and so does our ability to relate to it. We learn about its intervals and its value. As we become older, we learn the true and sometimes painful fact that is time is irretrievable. Continue reading