I Can’t Hear You

I was trying to explain it. But he walked into the kitchen and turned on the water. “I can’t hear you,” he called back, “the water’s running.” The truth is, he didn’t want to hear. My version of the truth didn’t fit with his – his didn’t fit with mine. We’d been arguing for months and neither of us could understand what the other was saying.

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The Gong

At the healthplex where I’ve been going for physical therapy for a while, you get to bang a gong on your last visit. That’s today for me, and I plan to ring it with vigor. My epic win in my Super Better game, however, was to get back into my hour long exercise class and make it through. I did that last week. Two big achievements toward better health.

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Dance me to the end of love

It was an ordinary day in the park. I was sitting on a bench in the sunshine, reading “The Museum of Extraordinary Things.” A group of about 20 young people walked down the path, humming “Dance Me to the End of Love.” They set up in an open space, formed a semi-circle and began to sing in earnest. I put my book down and listened for almost an hour. They sang nothing but Leonard Cohen songs. When I got home I learned he died. I felt like I’d been in the park of extraordinary things.

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Dinner’s Ready

Happy holiday remembrances usually involve the smells of wonderful things cooking and baking while mothers or grandmothers labored in the kitchen. The rest of the family waited eagerly for that announcement, “Dinner’s ready,” so they could crowd together around a table and praise the food and eat too much. If you had a happy family, and happy memories, you’re really remembering the love. Do that. Remember the love.

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The Sunrise

Sandia Sunrise

I’m waiting for the sunrise, just to make sure the world is still turning and that last night’s election results didn’t cause the end of everything. I woke up dreaming I was on the phone with a 911 operator because a crazy man with a gun was inside my home threatening everyone. I need the sunrise to cheer me up.

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Nanosecond

I look away for just a nanosecond and lose all train of thought. It’s this election. No one can focus on anything but watching it come to an end. Tonight it will be over. The people will have elected a new President. Maybe then we can all concentrate on something for longer than nanoseconds again.

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50 Pounds

She was a skinny little thing. She wanted so much to be big, strong, tough. No matter how much she ate, she just couldn’t reach her goal of 50 pounds. Finally, when she was almost to her 7th birthday, she hit the mark. She pumped her arms and cheered. Her therapist, who helped her climb on the scale at every therapy session, cheered along with her. I gave a couple of whoops and the nurses nearby came over to give her high fives.

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Mrs. Erickson

Mrs. Erickson taught English. And drama. Boy, was she dramatic. Things were pretty calm and quiet around my house, and a dramatic woman staging an entrance or exit was something I didn’t quite get.

She was old, or she seemed so to me. Looking back, I realize she must have been an actress when she was younger, before she gave up and became a teacher.

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Good morning

I always say, “Good morning.” The full two words. I’m a hopeless morning person. Cheerful and ready to go.

My boss hates morning. If he can squeeze out a greeting at all, it’s, “Mornin'” in a barely audible grunt.

By late afternoon he’s after me to do 10 things that I’m too tired to do.

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One Vote

The election’s over for me. I cast my vote on the first day of early voting. The polling place I went to was crowded already. Each of us is equal in the voting booth: one vote, one person. It’s the loudest way I know to announce my position on the fate of the country – filling in circles quietly and feeding my ballot into a counting machine.

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