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Reflection~

 

 

This is blog entry #2 in response to Writer’s of Kern challenge and I want to say “thank you” to those responsible for putting the challenge together, it has been a much needed motivator for me.

What is it about Santa Monica that we always end up on its beaches, walking along the pier and now sitting in a hospital. The week after we were married we came to LA, because Dennis was working there during the week. And the following week we were holding hands walking along the beach. When we lived in Colorado and would come to California to take the kids to an amusement park and down to Bakersfield to visit family, inevitably we would find ourselves driving along until we saw the pier and smile at each other and park. It was never planned or prepared for, it really was a natural evolution of events. Just as stepping into a shower and my husbands femur snaps like a dry branch, cancer had spread into the bones. No orthopedic doctor in Bakersfield could operate, and the only hospital that would was UCLA Orthopedic Santa Monica.

I look out the hospital room window and decide to go for a walk while they take him for another bone scan. I ache from missing my kids, who are not really kids anymore but will always be to me. I know that the beach is maybe a half mile away give or take, but there is no way I can go alone. I will just take a walk.

Familiarity is what I notice, Rite Aid, US bank and across the street Bank of America and of course there is Vons on the next block. Homeless souls wondering, struggling along, while young unaware professional’s wait for lights to change, nope they can’t wait and hurry across against the lights advice, speaking and gesturing to devices in their ears.

Three blocks later I see a pretty boutique shop. It is one of those upscale resale clothing shops, so I step in to look around and right away attract the sales woman’s attention and have a tail as I glance up and down the aisles. Taking in the styles and price tags of 175.00 for a blouse, which is a bit too upscale for my retail. I turn and smile at the sales person who is standing close but not too close and she smiles tightly back. Blah, blah, blah, high prices no style back out the door I go.

Immediately startled by the screaming and ranting of a woman’s voice. I see her across the street pushing her cart as she pumps her fist in the air. Everything she owns is in there or she is wearing it. I walk on and head the other way back toward the waiting hospital room, anxiety rising up with in, how long have I been gone? I can’t help but notice the man huddled in the doorway of an empty shop, his hand pressed against his head. I wonder if he is in pain, I hope not. These are the people I see where ever I go. They are in Denver, Los Angeles, Bakersfield, Fort Collins. They haunt me in a way that I can’t explain.

The five blocks seem to take me forever. Hurrying through the large beautiful halls of the hospital, I anxiously step into the elevator. I smile at the nurses who now know me by name and how many children I have. I push open the heavy door to his room and see that they have not brought him back yet. I am relieved, out of breath and tiredly I sit down and pull out my notebook.

What Do You See?

The       Tragedy                Comedy

Beauty          Romantic

The        Common

Unexpected Drama

Fragile human Minds

Splintered yet Alive

Voices lost on city streets

Muscles Pumping

Blood Rushing             Street Lights Blink

Outrun it     Ignore it              Get ahead of it

What do we leave behind?

Broken Hearts

Shattered Minds

Simple Lives turned inside out

Synchronicity of time

Brings me back where I began

Again and Again.

10 thoughts on “Reflection~

  1. Iola, beautiful, descriptive writing. You made me worry, wonder, and gasp. You made me remember, bringing forth memories of how walking on the beach soothes and heals me, of illness and how crazy-making it is for the partner as well as for the one who is sick. Love the poem at the end, too. Thank you. xoA

  2. Iola, I agree with the others, your writing is beautiful. In a few lines you have captured the heart of the reader and revealed truths about our cities. I see the great drama of life; most people do not stop to see it. Terry

  3. Your sensitivity to the have/have-not disparity in our culture reminds me of Yvonne Daley’s novel, Octavia Street, in which she writes about “the impact of the counterculture and deinstitutionalization, the conflict between progressive politics and capitalism, and her own response to people sleeping outside her door while the city [San Francisco] spends tens of thousands to install mature palm trees and kaleidoscopes on the corner.”

  4. Your sensitivity to the have/have-not disparity in our society reminds me of Yvonne Daley’s novel, Octavia Street, in which she writes about “the impact of the counterculture and deinstitutionalization, the conflict between progressive politics and capitalism, and her own response to people sleeping outside her door while the city [San Francisco] spends tens of thousands to install mature palm trees and kaleidoscopes on the corner.”

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