Showing posts with label Marriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Marriage. Show all posts

Saturday, March 26, 2011

so if i lie to you





so if i lie to you today
would you follow me to the store
and watch the old men buy pickles
and complain about having
to listen to children beg their
mothers for sugar puffs and ice cream
or would you reach for
the doorknob on your own - without my warmth
and step away
into the night, its not that
i have lied.  i just
thought I'd ask
because asking questions (i read somewhere) keeps the dendrites
firing  
and thinking about things like there being more to the cosmos
than a sun that politely wakes me
in the morning, because you
and the cat
always forget - or maybe its because the seasons pass so quickly
and should i soon fall
under the spell of some evil fairy godmother
and take up lying
would i then have to
plan on purchasing bananas, all
by myself

bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2011

Sunday, August 8, 2010

Gather the Water Can

Magpie Tales #26

let us gather the water can
it sits on the garden wall
it has been sitting there all summer
i recall - since
our walk now months ago

we will need to store it now
before fall winds and winter's snow
i know we have another - that appears to serve us well,
but the old one is my favourite
darling, that you can surely tell

let us together head to the garden
to gather the water can -
it was the first one that you bought me
remember, when the garden's youth matched ours
then too you would accompany
me to the garden

where we gathered love
for endless hours...

bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2010

Note:  I will be traveling most of next week - so I do not know if I will be able to check in on everyones tale ...will do my best as time permits......blessings to everyone....bkm

Monday, July 19, 2010

Incidentals

The texture of incidentals,
gray woolen socks, cotton shorts
silken designer ties from Nordstrom's
these incidentals, your incidentals filled
the cedar lined mahogany
chest of draws

"Texture," you said to me,  "our marriage
lacks texture,
you know taste...." you paused
"Wait, I will  finish for you,
our marriage lacks testicles."  I said.

" You know, it lacks balls! " I continued, "Well, you can
take your fine uptown words like,
texture and taste and wipe them up with your fine,
silk ties
and virgin wool suits.
 ..and just give me..."

Grabbing me, we fell to the bed
I could feel his steel blue eyes
undressing me,
I added, "Now that is texture, now
that is the man I married.."  

bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2010

Friday, July 9, 2010

The Last Summer Garden






Carol stepped out through the back door screen.  It had an irritating squeak that reminded her she needed to add, oil screen door to her list of things to do  She never kept a to do list until just a few months ago.  It was right after Jake died in January she began having anxiety and panic attacks, wondering how she was going to handle everything from the finances to taking care of all the necessary tasks around the house.  Over the twenty-eight years of their marriage Jake had spoiled Carol and she knew it.  He not only provided for her financially, he also took care of all the repairs and maintenance around the house.  She never got involved and though he always reminded her how spoiled she was and take she needed to take an interest in these matters he never pushed it.  He was old school he said meaning he enjoyed every moment of watching over her.  

Jake was eight years older than Carol and viewed her like a fine Japanese porcelain doll.  She was born in Japan though raised since a baby in California.  Jake was from the Midwest and was just weeks away from turning sixty-five when he experienced a massive heart attack while in Tahoe fishing with a few of his friends.  Carol was at work when she got the call and it was that call that brought her now to moments like this thinking about oiling squeaking doors and mowing lawns.   Over the last six months she found it difficult working through the transition from being two to being one. 

There were no children to lean on or share in the grieving.  Carol had only been pregnant once which turned our to a tubular and a matter of life an death resulting in a hysterectomy.  Jake was more than supportive to Carol during this time, he was there for her physically and emotionally every step of the way and it haunted her that she was not there for him in the last moments of his life. 

She moved towards the vegetable garden on the far side of the backyard.  It had been Jake's pride and joy every summer since his retirement.  He had always wanted to have the time to grow his own vegetables especially tomatoes.  There was nothing Jake loved more in the summer then fresh vine ripe tomatoes and over the past few summers he became a master at growing what he said were the finest tomatoes in Sacramento county,a county known as Sacra-tomato for all the tomato field and canneries in the area.  Carol really never spent much time with him out in the garden, though she enjoyed the fruits of his venture and gladly prepared all the squash, green beans and tomatoes to his liking which they feasted on and laughed over all summer long.  And as instructed she would package, using her gifts of creativity, all the produce they could not eat themselves so he could proudly distribute to all he friends.  He was rightly proud of his accomplishments but never failed to compliment her on her part in the process.  Summer was their season and here she now was walking toward the summer garden with Jake not there to greet her.

This spring in working through her grief Carol decided  she would plant some vegetables on her own, in honor of Jake.  She knew he would be watching, and he would be so proud of her doing this on her own.  But this afternoon as she stepped into the garden she felt a sadness overcoming her as the tomato plants stood tall waiting for her with several tomatoes now starting to turn red.  She looked at them and suddenly her sadness  took a turn to anger and she thought to herself;  What was I thinking? Why did I plant all these vegetables? Who is going to eat them? Who cares if I planted all these stupid things?  She found herself picking up the hoe and began hoeing slowly with a steady rhythm then faster and harder and harder still.   She started hammering the hoe into the ground, the moist soil flying all over the garden.  She started  talking to herself, and then began yelling at Jake.

"Why, she screamed, why did you leave me with all this? What am I suppose to do with all of these tomatoes?  Just what am I suppose to do with all these stupid, stupid tomatoes without you!" 
 
She slammed the hoe again and again and in the last swoop she hit one of the tomato plants slicing off the plant at ground level.   She looked down at the plant as it lay  in front of her and she started to sob.  The tears flowed down her cheeks and she fell to her knees next to the plant still bearing  the unripened tomatoes.  She lifted it to her breast, cradling it like a child and rocking it, unable to hold back the flood of tears.

"I am sorry Jake, she sobbed, I am so sorry, it is just that I miss you, I miss you so much."   

bkm

This piece was inspired by my friend Kathy who lost her husband a few years ago - the many conversations I had with her as she worked through her grief gave this piece its life....

Saturday, July 3, 2010

A Marriage of Hemsipheres

we come from separate hemispheres
you and I,
I viewing the world as diluted watercolor
you a ledger in balance --

out of balance is where we find commitment
meeting congenially under sheets of a finer texture
you marking as payment of debt incurred
I as a stain on canvass

still the world revolves;
uncaring

bkmackenzie
copyrighted



Friday, July 2, 2010

Canadian Blend - Magpie 21


I married a Canadian and with my blessing he has retained his citizenship over the years. I cherish Canada as much as he does though we reside in the United States. When July comes along we celebrate our differences with July 1st being Canada Day and July 4th America’s Birthday there are two flags flying red and white with a touch of blue. A blending of borders, a truce called on neutral ground. When he grew up in Canada he was constantly told he had the personality of an American, filled with individuality and fire. Where I grew up on a farm in the Midwest I believed everyone was good and kindness was universal; a true Canadian trait. Years of course have pasted and with them my views have melted into life’s reality; my husband’s reality has melted into mellow acceptance.

It is this first week of July every year when we plan our annual pilgrimage to Victoria BC, and Vancouver Island. Where we will tour castles and gardens, eat at favorites restaurants and have coffee and pastries at outside cafes, when we will again eat fresh blueberries and walk along familar shores. There will be a trips to Ladysmith  and Sooke , and the marking of new spots for exploration.

It is a magical time which we begin each year by riding the BC Ferry,  a border crossing both beautiful and life changing. A time when we see each other for who we really are one American and one Canadian.  It is in the hour and thirty minute crossing from Tsawwsann to Swatz Bay across the Strait of Georgia , that we move away from a world of what is - towards a Neverland of our own design, passing through the Gulf Islands of Mayne and Pender; accompanied by killer whales and bald eagles who have long waited our return, now guiding us from all history of past life and past lives. Every year this ferry ride becomes our sacred passage, a quiet and subtle transformation of our souls understood, but left unspoken. We both know we have been blessed with the peace of knowing who we are, each as individuals honoring our friendship and our freedoms first;  above all other. For me that friendship will be as it is every year solidified in that moment when I see my husband standing on the ferry’s deck, breathing in his first breath over Canadian waters and I realize once again that there stands my Peter Pan, my Captain Hook, there stands all the fireworks this American will ever need.     ...bkm