SHE She feels like she’s disappearing inside her own life. She apologizes for everything: for laughing too loudly, for talking too much, for complaining about her constant pain. Just taking up space feels wrong. She’s learned that no one cares anymore. Her parents and siblings are gone; there's no one left to tell. More importantly, there's no one left to care. She's too old to start over. Too sick, too infirm to manage getting around. No car, no money, no life; she's become someone she's never been before. She's not sure how it will end. That's not true, she understands the end is death.  She just doesn't know what will happen  between now and then. And that worries her, a lot. She feels like she’s disappearing inside her own life. She apologizes for everything - for laughing too loudly, for talking too much, for complaining about her constant pain. Just taking up space feels wrong. She’s learned that no one cares anymore. Her parents and siblings are g...

259. LAST NIGHT I had a stand-off with a spider the size of a half dollar and a two-inch centipede. This happened in the night-light-lit-dark of our bathroom, where I'd gone to get a drink of water to wash down a pair of red-coated acetaminophen. I'm usually brave, an expert squasher of bugs, but last night I whimpered, waking my husband . Lacking the stamina for violence, I chose diplomacy. I bargained with the centipede: if he promised to eat all future spiders, he could live rent-free. He didn't say no, so I headed back to bed. Under the covers now, I wait and watch to see if that creepy crawly keeps his end of our bargain. *comments welcome LAST NIGHT  I had a stand-off with a spider the size of a half dollar and a two-inch centipede. This happened in the night-light-lit-dark of our bathroom, where I'd gone to get a drink of water to wash down a pair of red-coated acetaminophen. I'm usually brave, an expert squasher of bugs, but last night I whimpered, pulling m...

 258. sparkle of street lights grid of brightly lit windows night-time on my block *comments welcome

258.  from the hall window I consider the North Star make a wish for peace

  257. In the spirit of the Nat King Cole Trio: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hph8xZTq2ZY LA-DI-DA, DI-DA-DI-DUM, OCTOBER Black wrought iron furniture, lacy with scrollwork, is now neatly stored in their cluttered garage for another winter. The garden gnome a much younger son Tom gave his father, has been put on a shelf. Hoses, freshly drained and coiled, plus sprinkler and garden tools, go on the shelf next to the gnome. Outside water has been shut off so it won't freeze and break pipes. The Heller Brothers will come in a few weeks; it's their job to rake up the leaves in preparation for the cold weather to come. There should still be enough leaf cover to make the bumblebee queens,  moth cocoons and butterfly chrysalides happy. The worst job of all involves the very large, very heavy, awkward wooden storm windows that have never fit properly in the 49 years we've lived here. They must be hung on the porch plus the screens taken down and stacked in the garage until the ma...

256. ETERNITY IN A DRAWER A branch of dark gray willow, rind rough and furrowed, tap-taps against the window. Late season flower petals fall, litter the ground in the ambering light. The phone rings once, twice, the sound anxious and stinging. She feels things shifting and  resettling. Autumn waits impatiently,  months swiftly vanishing until,  blissfully ignorant, the new year  arrives in all its neonate splendor. Deterred for now, eternity hides  away in a bottom dresser drawer. *comments welcome