Returning

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October 30, 2019, returning from Athens to NYC.   My daughter and I had traveled together for two months without having any major disagreements. There was just one night in Dubai when I was verging on being a selfish, judgmental person; I got over it. At the outset of the trip, I said I wanted only three things— to go to Prayer Mountain in Ghana, to do a day trip to Morocco, and to visit Pompeii.   I am easy to please most of the time.

 

I take it back. There was a moment on the train from the Athens airport to our hotel in the heart of Athens when I was so nervous about getting off at the correct station that two pickpockets targeted us. My daughter felt a hand in her bag and looked the thief in the eye. He bolted without her wallet. It was an elaborate scheme where one thief held the door from opening, while the other went for the cash. My lesson— stay alert, don’t become a victim.

 

Now that I am remembering— the other time my daughter got mad at me was at the Catania Airport when I turned into an “ugly American” and told off a group of Italians on the tarmac bus to move closer together so everyone could get on. I was shouting in English and nobody moved an inch.

 

 

trip of a lifetime

pray for Europe  Africa

and all of the world

 

 

 

dVerse prompt to use a poem written about myself and write a haibun based on that poem. I used my poem Language written October 7, 2019, while I was on this trip and at one point, didn’t know where I was. Now I pray that someday I can return, especially to Ghana.

Returning

Fill the Day

Fill the day

with discernment

new language

& the Spirit

create a spa

for the mind

& the skin

purification

of the pores

& receptors

of the brain

take in the sun rays

& maniacal rains

stand under heavens

& weepingly smile

My God

 

 

 

——————

deVerse quadrille on the word fill

Fill the Day

Opposites

I was in my mother’s kitchen. It is autumn and she is about to die. Years later my father died in the springtime. They were opposites like that. Mom was a believer. Dad said, “When you’re dead, you’re dead.” Mom was always nice to people and dad would care less. Dad drank himself into a stupor and my sober mother always helped to carry him home, or to rehab.

My mother’s kitchen was her workshop and out of it came strawberry rhubarb pie, fudge brownies, fudge, meringue on pies or simply cooked on a baking sheet, peanut butter cookies she would crisscross with a fork, peanut brittle, anise candy, cinnamon rolls, French breakfast puffs and tapioca pudding. She loved sweets.

My father’s workshop was in the basement, just like his father before him. Every tool was hung up in order across the wall over a huge workbench. Those tools hung so perfectly, waiting for him to pick them up and build something, anything. 

place with no seasons

where nothing ever happens

sad to imagine

_________________

Haibun prompt at dVerse about Spring

Opposites