The Neighborhood

The most interesting house in the neighborhood has to be seen on foot. There are little art pieces all over the place. I first noticed a broken yellow sun. Standing over it was an ant sculpture with a raised club, like it was going to hit the sun again. Another day I noticed a tiny replica of a church sitting in the rocks. Then I saw a turtle. Another time I noticed a small madonna inside a wreath of grape vines. Then some tiny clay turtles with stones glued to their backs arrived. That yard is an art gallery.

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Tree

I love to plant a tree
In each home
Where I live.

I love to plant a tree
And watch it root
Into the earth.

I love to plant a tree
So I can visit it
When I visit former homes.

I love to plant a tree
And know the world
Is happier because of it.

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Labels

We’re running out of labels. The sexual and gender preferences of young people today are un.label.able! Which is a sign that it’s about damn time we stopped trying to give people labels that set them apart somehow. They are simply human, doing something perfectly acceptable for a human to do. Let them live without pinning some name on them that makes them feel “other.”

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The Perfect Number

Many mornings I conduct science experiments to find the perfect number of mugs of coffee. That is, the number of mugs I can drink before my stomach starts to hurt.

If I make one batch of java in my wonderful little French press, I’m only going to get two mugs of coffee that day. No pain. But what if I drink more? Is three the pain threshold? Or is it four? Bring me another refill, waitress, I’m doing research for science.

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Ten

Marion glanced at her phone. She was ten minutes early. She sat in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs. Ten minutes – she could do that.

Ten ladies dancing, on this day ten years ago, ten times ten. Her mind wandered. She glanced at her phone again. Eight minutes. Would they take her back on time, or would she have to wait longer? Now, now was what she wanted. No more waiting, no more sitting. . . .

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Magic

“It looks like magic, but it’s simply a matter of practice. You put in your 10,000 hours, you can do magic.”

I was there to learn to code. In 3 days. Why was the instructor talking about 10,000 hours?

I raised my hand. “I just need a job,” I said. “I don’t need magic.”

The instructor smiled. She  . . .

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Paint

There was paint everywhere. Paint on my shirt, my fingers, on the dish drainer in the sink where I’d washed the brush. But the job was done and I was thrilled I’d finished it. I stood back and looked at my handwork. I was going to have the best sign at the march, that was obvious. Wait! I misspelled a word!

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Today, We Celebrate

This is my last day in physical therapy. Today, we celebrate my release. The way that happens at the PT place I go to is with a gong. When you’re finally deemed well enough to go out on your own they let you bang a gong. Bam. You’re free. Well, you’re free except for the need to continue to walk and go to exercise class every day for the rest of your life. Good health is work, people.

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March, March, March!

Earth Day is coming and there will be a march for science. My two knee replacements have reached the point where I can participate in this #resist action. It will be my first ever march. I didn’t march during the Viet Nam protests. I didn’t march to ban the bomb. I wanted to be in the Women’s March. I’d like to march to save Planned Parenthood. Finally, on Earth Day, I’m going to join the resistance against our current administration. March, march, march!

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Sunny

She watched the sun move north. Each sunny morning the windows facing east told her the season, with the beams of light entering her kitchen from new directions. When June 21 approached she went outside with a can of spray paint and marked a line from the tree hiding the sun up to her window. A sun arrow. Now she had to wait for fall to finish her painted sun map.

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