5:17 am. 25° F. Rollin’ down I-95 South in light morning traffic, with other insomniacs and the red tail lights of the hulking convoys.
I roll the tape back to the scene last night.
“Wow!”
“Wow what?”
“How much did it cost?”
“$55.”
“$55?”
“$55.”
“$55 per eyebrow?”
“Really Dad?”
“What?”
“Eyelashes. Eyelashes Dad. And, who would get just one eyelash extended?”
I ponder that for a moment. She has a point there. [Read more…]
Zeke dreaming.
Our mid afternoon nap.
His paws twitching, his gentle whimpers.
The Yellow Goldfinch and his cousins.
Tiny claws clutching the perches at the feeder.
Beak on seed. Velvet hammer tap, tap, tapping.
Man still searching for a matching, lemon color palette.
Long Train Runnin’. The Doobie Brothers.
A 3.5 minute nostalgic carpet ride.
Foot tapping, lip syncing, and running the math.
40 years ago!
Family dinner.
Memories shared.
Melancolía filling the pauses.
Pending departures.
The Coldstone vanilla milk shake.
Thick gobs of deliciousness pulled through the straw.
Hit me.
Again and again.
Its lazy days.
Its hushed evenings.
August’s final murmur.
I perfectly recall the elephant’s eye and the whale’s eye that blinked.
I skipped counting individual drops in favor of the general feeling of rain.
[Read more…]
Start your day with anxiety. First thing. Every morning for last month. Sharp pain for 75 seconds. Then poof. Gone. Until the next morning. I google it. Up pops Just Answer. Eye with a customer question describing the identical experience:
I wake up every morning with a sharp pain in what I believe is my optic nerve. The pain is so bad that it sometimes makes my eye water when I try to open it wide. It is also painful to press on my eye when closed. The pain is always in my left eye and there are some days that I wake up without pain. My eye does not seem to be more red or bloodshot than normal. The pain does subside as the day goes on and I haven’t experienced any vision problems.
I quickly close my eye and pain subsides. Water fills the vacuum. (The human body is. All on its own. Repairing. Soothing. A miracle.)
I open and close several times. Blinking. (The body is a miracle. The mind, my mind, on the other hand, can be a torture chamber. I need to see. I need to read. Heart begins to race. Relax pal. Just Answer Doc said it’s just dry eyes. Yes, that was the first line. And the rest? What about the rest? This will right itself by itself.)
What if?
Mind quickly shifts gears to Sunday’s paper.
You are four years old. You run to answer the door bell. Life from that moment on changes. For you. For your family. Forever.
Josh Miel, you define courage. You define perseverance. You are an inspiration.
(On the other hand, you pal, have dry eyes.)
Live & Learn 