Tag: travel

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Traveling Light

Yikes! Look at that baggage!

How often do we have an unpleasant experience and then carry it around with us for hours, days, weeks, or even years? I do it and I bet you do, too. It’s called being human.

But boy, I’d much rather not do it! I’d rather be like my dogs. Although, thinking about that, I know there are some things dogs carry. Trauma. The memory of going to the groomer or the vet. More often, Miles, at least, carries happy memories. He totally remembers every house where a kind friend lives. He knows which of my adult piano students brings treats or sits down on the floor to play with him. And those are much stronger with him than any bad things.

Maybe a scooter backpack?

You’ve probably heard the story of the two monks who were walking along and were confronted by a wealthy woman and her servant. There was a big mud puddle between them and the woman was very upset at the thought of having to walk through that. So the older monk carried her across and set her down gently on the other side. She did not thank him and went away still grumbling. After a few miles, the younger monk angrily asked his elder, “How could you carry her and then let her treat you like she did?” The elder said, “I put her down long ago. Why are you still carrying her?”

Those unpleasant memories we carry around are heavy. And yet we’ve stuffed our backpacks with them, maybe put them on wheels so we could drag them along, or shoved them into heavy bags that weigh down our shoulders. Boy. It’s hard to just leave them. And yet, just think how much more joy we’d have without them! These are our journeys, our own lives that we burden with hurts, slights, and bad memories. Not someone else’s. We only punish ourselves by carrying these things around forever.

Ahh. Much better.

Here’s what I want to have in my little backpack.
* Equanimity
* Openness
* Acceptance
* Love
* Wonder
* Joy
* A cozy jacket
* A tiny stuffed dog
* A little chocolate

Having a list of what you do want is helpful.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you had your own inner TSA agent going through that backpack and pulling out all those burdensome things, saying, “I’m sorry, ma’am, you’re not allowed to carry that. You’re going to have to throw this out, too, if you want to go on.” Trash can sitting right there. Toss, toss, toss. I know just what I’d throw out. And I can see myself skipping away, light as a feather. La!

Oh, it’s not as easy as all that but we can lighten our loads. I love this image. I just now made it up, too. I hope it helps you on your journey.

“I was coming to see the heavier your heart got, the stronger you had to be to keep carrying it around.” ― Alexandra Bracken, In the Afterlight

“Resentment is like taking poison and waiting for the other person to die.” – Malachy McCourt

“Accept yourself, love yourself, and keep moving forward. If you want to fly, you have to give up what weighs you down.”― Roy T. Bennett, The Light in the Heart

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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All the Places

Taroko Gorge, Taroko National Park, Hualien Taiwan

This morning as I thought about what I’d write to you, I was sad to consider leaving Taiwan. Again. Now I’d be leaving behind my writing of it, having left the actual place over a month ago. I’m not sure I’m ready to do that. This got me to thinking about how certain places continue to live inside us long after we’ve left them.

I’m reminded of the lovely Beatles song, “In My Life.” Listening to this song now is bittersweet. I suppose it’s always meant to have been. I love so many of the places I’ve been, both humble and grand, and the people who were with me. I’ve continued to keep Akumal and Taipei in my phone’s list of weather forecasts, along with places my sons and siblings live. More importantly, I keep them in my heart.

There are places I remember . . .

The farmhouse at Jughandle Creek Farm and Nature Center

I remember Jughandle Creek Farm and Nature Center on the California coast near Mendocino, where my sister and I once stayed for a couple of nights. Great big old house with huge common areas, a rickety upright piano, and cozy bedrooms; tiny cabins on the property if you’re willing to walk up to the house for the bathroom. The best thing is, it’s across the road from the ocean! Beautiful beach at hand, breathtaking views from the headlands above. We picnicked at both spots.

I remember the Grand Canyon and Phantom Ranch, where another sister and I stayed. That’s a very hard trek with a great big fat reward. I remember us doubled over with laughter on the way back up, just as some miserable looking backpackers carrying God knows how many pounds came trudging by. And I can still picture the crescent moon hanging above the ridge as we started out early in the morning.

I remember green, gorgeous Scotland. My son Peter lived there for fifteen years and I managed to visit him there twice. Of course I fell in love with Scotland and every last thing about it, too. I adored the kilts, the bagpipes, peaty single malt scotch whiskey, millionaire’s shortbread, the Isle of Skye, the Highlands, neeps and tatties, the charming accent, and of course the local idioms. Och! It’s a bonnie land!

I remember New York City, the Met, Central Park. I remember Pt. Reyes. Yosemite with my sisters. Yosemite with my boys. Ogunquit, Maine. Acadia National Park.

San Francisco and the Golden Gate Bridge. Paris! Florence, Rome, Lake Como. Roundup Montana, my father’s birthplace.

Acadia National Park in Maine

All the places. I’m amazed that I’ve traveled as much as I have, and that all these places now live inside me. Now Taiwan tugs at my heart, even moreso as it’s so far away and getting there is so not fun (although I’d do it again) and I might never be there again–but most especially because it was with my son and he arranged the whole trip for me.

So the places are beautiful, grand, evocative, amazing and humble . . . And then there are the people. Almost all of the places in my sentimental wanderings come with people who are dear to me. Sure, there were a very few sojourns I’ve taken that have given me something else completely that I’ve treasured; and I do love wandering our woods alone with my thoughts or commenting on this or that to my dog Miles. (Or singing. He loves that.) But for the big trips, I want to be with people I love. All the places. And all the people.

I know I’ll often stop and think about them.

“Haud yer wheesht!” (Hold your tongue!) – Scottish saying

“A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively, wrenches it from itself, shapes it, renders it, loves it so radically that he remakes it in his own image.” ― Joan Didion

“Regular maps have few surprises: their contour lines reveal where the Andes are, and are reasonably clear. More precious, though, are the unpublished maps we make ourselves, of our city, our place, our daily world, our life; those maps of our private world we use every day; here I was happy, in that place I left my coat behind after a party, that is where I met my love; I cried there once, I was heartsore; but felt better round the corner once I saw the hills of Fife across the Forth, things of that sort, our personal memories, that make the private tapestry of our lives.”

― Alexander McCall Smith, Love Over Scotland

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Hello, Old Friend, Part Two

As I write this, I have not yet left for Taiwan, but when you receive it, I will be flying back to the U.S. It feels a bit odd to write into the future.

Anticipating my trip, I have settled into a pleasant curiosity about the long, 14 hour flight from San Francisco to Taipei. As one who has never been able to sleep much on an airplane, I had been dreading that part of the trip, thinking of it as something to get behind me. Now, suddenly I’m imagining that it might be a cozy, cocoon-like experience. I’ll be in my window seat in my comfy clothes, perhaps my most loved slippers, with my little pillow and my melatonin, with nothing I must do or take care of. It could be nice! I mean, you know, not lying-on-the-beach nice or cozy-at-home-in-my-bed nice, but it could be nice in its way.

Oakland Airport

And I’ll be on my way to have a wonderful time with my son, in a completely new environment, a completely different culture. I’m looking forward to all of that very much.

But right now, as I write, I’m still at home, shivering in my studio. And as you receive this, I’ll be in the cocoon again, flying back to San Francisco. There’s an oddness and a comfort in imagining all of this, too. It’s as if I’m sending myself into the future.

I went up and down and around and around over this trip. It challenges me in many ways and at first I was afraid of it. Where’s my pluck? I wondered. And now here it is. Now I can say, Hello, Old Friend. I know you. You used to drive all over the place, alone, to shows. You loved going to new towns, all alone. You once tried like hell to get that crazy old conversion van out of the driveway in 20″ of snow, to drive north to Iowa, of all places, for a show. In December! I do know you. And I’m glad to see you.

I’ll come home with stories and ideas and nuggets of wisdom and a heart full of love and loads of photos. I’m sure of that. And I will share.

“Never did the world make a queen of a girl who hides in houses and dreams without traveling.” ― Roman Payne, The Wanderess

“It is not the strength of the body that counts, but the strength of the spirit.” ― J.R.R. Tolkien

“All of us have moments in our lives that test our courage. Taking children into a house with a white carpet is one of them. ”― Erma Bombeck

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Intrepid

What the heck? I used to call myself “a plucky show artist.” For years I traveled, alone, to various cities, for a long time in an old worn out van, set up my difficult booth, knowing no one upon arrival but ultimately meeting lots of new people. I braved wind, rain and even tornadoes in a precarious booth weighed down with cement and straps. I loved it. Loved loved loved it.

And then I grew tired of it. The weather challenges grew very tiresome. At a show in Springfield MO, first weekend in May, one year it was in the 90s; the next year it snowed. No, thank you. So, tired and burned out is one thing. But fearful?

I’ve flown many, many times, within and outside of the country. Now? Flying had become a thing that unraveled me. Okay, Covid unraveled me. After canceling several flights last year, I have just braved air travel. But getting myself on that plane was a real challenge. I was fearful and worried. The mask mandate had just been dropped. This plucky show artist, this intrepid traveler nearly cried on that first flight, where only six of thirty passengers wore masks. I nearly got off the plane.

How is this anxious person me??

It was touch and go that morning, but finally, I decided it would feel like a defeat if I didn’t go. My mantra was, “I’m boosted. I won’t get Covid. I’ll have a wonderful time.”

I didn’t get Covid and I did have a wonderful time. I saw siblings, nieces and nephews I hadn’t seen for over two years. I saw one of my NYC sons! There was a family picnic (and family drama). There was a birthday. There was a cottage overlooking the sea, with the romance of a telescope in a many-windowed room. I ate barbecued oysters in Bodega Bay, had fabulous meals in restaurants and in the homes of my sisters, went into shops and galleries, got my feet in the sand and the ocean, sank into a foot and a half of snow, and saw breathtaking, gorgeous landscapes and rainbows.

I breathed in air that carried a different loveliness than I’m used to, renewed my love affair with the ocean. In Oregon for my first time ever, I walked in snow wearing jeans and a t-shirt. I saw grand rivers, rivers of cold turquoise water, with roaring waterfalls, and wet, moss-covered rocks and boulders, surrounded by huge tall trees I cannot name.

Magical nature abounding.

I came home with a full heart and so many memories. I am so happy that, after over two years, I broke the seal on flying. What’s next? Greece. Cinque Terre. Cycling the perimeter of Taiwan? Maine, again. The Riviera Maya, again. Machu Picchu? New York, again and again. The national parks. I am, after all, a plucky 70-year-old woman. I shall go and do while I can.

“The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.”― St. Augustine

“I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move.” ― Robert Louis Stevenson

“I read; I travel; I become.” ― Derek Walcott

“. . . to travel is worth any cost or sacrifice.” ― Elizabeth Gilbert

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And if you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Leaving

Sweet Rufus’ latest malady is terrible allergies.

I am traveling this week, which means not only that I’m having to steel myself for actually flying in an airplane once again but I’m leaving my dogs at home. This is very hard for me, always, even for one overnight. While Rufus spends most of his time in Oliver’s company and seems happiest there, and he won’t look devastated when I leave, he does have all kinds of health problems and issues, so that it’s hard for me to leave him.

And then there’s Miles. Well, Miles is really my dog. He is lying on the rug right here by me, at the moment, as he often does. He is a one-woman dog. I am his person. He gets a stomach ache whenever I leave. He sees all the telltale signs of any upcoming travel, and then he worries and frets and gives me that look. When will you come home? Will you ever come home? Maybe not. This might be the last time I’ll ever see you again. And then what?

Darling Miles

And I fret, as well. Does Oliver tell Miles he loves him, every single day? Probably not. Who am I kidding? No. Never. Will he kiss him on the nose? No. Will he let Miles give him a French kiss? No. Oh dear.

And Miles has gotten visibly older and has some difficulties, as well. He has a bad neck and sometimes, especially lately, a limp. I can hardly bear to see this.

Lately, though, Miles has spent a little more time in Oliver’s room, and that gives me some reassurance. Still, the looks he gives me on the leaving day, oh, they’re hard to bear. Almost always I want to take my bags back upstairs and settle down on the couch with him. Once or twice, I have.

If I were better organized I would put here a poem that this drawing goes with, a poem called “Do You?” It is about being away from home and seeing other dogs that make me think about my own two messy dogs, waiting for me back at home. But I am not organized and I wrote those Daily Poems for over a year a long time ago and marked them only with the date, which makes them very difficult to locate specifically. So I give up. I am, after all, getting ready to travel! I’m stressed! I cannot do everything! What do you want from me??

If you are particularly interested in finding it, you could search through the Daily Poems in my blog. Please do let me know if you find it and where. I would appreciate it.

“Outside of a dog, a book is man’s best friend. Inside of a dog it’s too dark to read.”

― Groucho Marx

“If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.”

― Will Rogers

“Heaven goes by favor. If it went by merit, you would stay out and your dog would go in.” ― Mark Twain

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And if you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Nudges

Brandywine Falls at Cuyahoga Valley National Park

I recently went on a big trip. I’d been longing to see my son, Peter, whom I had not seen for over two years. He and his brother live in New York. Cole was home for two nice long stretches of time in the past year but Peter, no. I talked about it with various people and almost every one of them encouraged me to go. Do it. Go. I made half-hearted plans to fly out, and even booked a flight. But I still felt reluctant. You hear all kinds of stories about air travel these days. And I hate to leave Miles, who is so much my dog that he gets a stomach ache whenever I am away overnight. So I cancelled my flight.

Peter and his girlfriend bought a house a little ways upstate near the Hudson River last April, and I really wanted to see it. They have woods and their land borders the Appalachian Trail. They have lots of room. He suggested that my youngest son and I put the dogs in the car and drive out. Hmm. Miles hates riding in the car. Rufus has all those health issues. Peter and Anne have cats and my dogs treat cats as squirrels–something to chase. It seemed too difficult.

My two sons, on a bluff behind FDR’s home overlooking the Hudson River and railroad tracks

Then, serendipitously and independently, a friend and I both heard about Cuyahoga Valley National Park, situated in Ohio, roughly between Cleveland and Akron. We both love the idea of visiting all of the National Parks. And I had learned that an old friend of mine lives inside the park! Jan asked if I would be interested in taking a 4-day weekend to go there. But I had noticed that this park is situated a little more than halfway between here and New York. Hmm. I mentioned this. Jan thought we could drive to Ohio, explore the park, and she could fly back to St. Louis from Cleveland. I figured I could drive the rest of the way to New York.

That was the first nudge that really took. How could I say no to that? It seemed like a very good plan. And then Peter offered to drive back to St. Louis with me! The final nudge that was just too good to pass up. This trip was meant to be. And so it became a real thing.

I steeled myself against anxiety about leaving my dogs.

Jan and I made plans for our drive and the park. I got in touch with my old friend. And off we went. I bought tickets for Peter and I to go to the Frank Lloyd Wright house, Fallingwater, in Pennsylvania, on our drive back to Missouri. Peter took the whole week off work and Cole, miraculously, was able to work from home for a good part of my visit. Everything fell right into place.

It was a marvelous trip, filled with fun, laughter, oh so much natural beauty, hiking, walking, art, and best of all, freewheeling, easy time with my boys. It absolutely filled up my heart. This was a trip that went beyond any expectations that I had. I could not have conjured a more wondrous time.

So, these nudges. I think it’s important to pay attention to them but also to pick and choose. All those other ones, from well-meaning friends and family just did not feel quite right to me. I went with my gut by saying no to those others but YES! when it finally did feel just right. And the result tells the story. I am practically full up to bursting with love and lightness.

So I’m saying, especially these days (we all keep saying phrases like this), don’t let anyone else’s grit and spunk push you to do something you’re not ready for. We’re all wild and adventurous in our own (sometimes quiet) ways. Sure, look at the options for whatever it is you long to do–but let yourself see how each one of those options feels inside of you. And then maybe act on those little nudges that feel just right, the ones that truly do speak to your heart.

“May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears.” – Nelson Mandela

“Who can really say how decisions are made, how emotions change, how ideas arise? We talk about inspiration; about a bolt of lightning from a clear sky, but perhaps everything is just as simple and just as infinitely complex as the processes that make a particular leaf fall at a particular moment. That point has been reached, that’s all. It has to happen, and it does happen.” – John Ajvide Lindqvist, Harbor

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And if you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Living Large

I have a friend who does this cool thing. He has a red convertible and when the forecast looks good, he, his wife, and their daughter take a little day trip. They pull the name of a town in Missouri (their home state) out of a hat, put the convertible top down, and head out for that town. They enjoy the drive, have a look around the town, poke around in the shops, have lunch, and drive back home. The first time they did it, it was a little more random than he had imagined. There was no place to eat.

So now there is a little extra planning involved. He’s done some research on small towns to make sure they have a restaurant or diner. Since they live in central Missouri, he doesn’t choose places that are all the way to the edges of the state. The names are put into a hat or box or whatever and when a good day presents itself, one of them pulls out the name of a town and off they go! Loose Creek, Kimmswick, Cuba, Paris, Bonne Terre, Blackwater, Reeds Spring–a new place each time.

This seems to me a wonderful, fun, and creative way to spend a day. I love the joie de vivre of it! You wouldn’t need a convertible to enjoy the fun of exploring a new town, either. All you’d want is pleasant companions and an openness to small adventures.

“The most visible creators I know of are those artists whose medium is life itself. The ones who express the inexpressible~without brush, hammer, clay or guitar. They neither paint nor sculpt~their medium is being. Whatever their presence touches has increased life. They see and don’t have to draw. They are the artists of being alive…” – J. Stone

My oldest son uses a website called Atlas Obscura–Curious and Wondrous Travel Destinations when he travels. Founded by author Joshua Foer and documentary filmmaker/author Dylan Thuras, it catalogs unusual and obscure travel destinations by means of user-generated content. You can search by town or state–or, for a bit more fun, just choose Random Place and find something cool. Who knows? It might inspire a trip you didn’t know you wanted to take! I searched for Missouri and found 122 places. You’ll find stories, places, and food & drink on the website. Anyone up for a Fried Brain Sandwich? Right here in Missouri!

I have another friend, a photographer, who takes road trips avoiding the interstates. He posts photos from these trips labeled as part of his NOTI (Not On The Interstate) Series. He finds great little signs and sights and sometimes meets the people behind them. There are so many creative ways to enjoy our world. It just takes a little thought, a little inspiration, and a bit of imagination. Or you could borrow those things from someone else. Who cares? The fun is real, whether it was your idea or not. You’d just have to have the openness to new things.Road trip season is upon us! Where will you be going?
If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And if you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,

Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”
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Mexico, Revisited

Having just last week expounded upon the notion of uitwaiien, I’ve decided this week that I need to go to Mexico, at least in my mind. Last year at this time I was in Akumal, Mexico, with my childhood best friend, who lives in Texas and whom I only rarely get to see. She works in travel and arranged a complimentary stay for us in a luxurious resort there. That trip was such a beautiful time for me. A gorgeous beach with perfectly lovely turquoise Caribbean water that broke way out in the distance, resulting in a gently lapping sparkle of sea on pristine white sand. Completely comfortable temperatures every day. I have kept Akumal as a weather location on my phone just to imagine I might be going there soon. Day after day, the temperature is around 82 degrees. Ahh.

My friend had some business to do, but I mostly lounged on an umbrella-covered chaise or a fabulous covered “beach bed,” gazing at the sea and sky. Endlessly. I found I was unable to read or nap or shut my eyes at all. I was simply mesmerized by that beautiful water and its gracious conversation with the shore. It was a meditation. When Anne and I were together on the beach, we chose not to talk all that much. We were easy with each other, as always, after all the years since we were 13. And I was perfectly content.

I came home utterly, totally, thoroughly, wholeheartedly relaxed. I felt like my heart had sprung wide open. And as often happens when I travel, I found a tiny heart-shaped memento–this time, a piece of coral in the water. I brought it home and placed it on a little table in my bedroom. I press my finger to it as I pass by. And my Romantic (with a capital R) heart took it as an omen. (Nothing to report as of yet.)

Living here in the Midwest, I long for the sea. I do. I long for it, even though I grew up here. I know many Midwesterners who feel pulled to the mountains. Okay. Gorgeous. Sure. Awe-inspiring. Yes. But not my heart’s resting place. Mountains, I feel, block the view. Nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there. 😉

I love a broad, expansive view, of fields, hills, woods, sky, water, any of those, with water right at the top of the list–my heart opener. If I was going to uproot myself, which would be hard, as I do love the Midwestern landscape, it would have to include proximity to a large body of water.

So here I am, in a particularly bitter cold February in Missouri. I accept it, as this is my home and this is what we have here: four seasons, each with its own unique beauty. But while meditating, I often envision that beach at Akumal with its glistening water. Quietly out and back, out and back, ever and always, teaching the art of doing nothing (another Dutch word, niksen). Intruding thoughts go poof! into that blue sky, to be carried off by a gull. Ahh.

So where do you go, in your mind, when you need to escape to someplace else? What is your heart’s resting place? I hope you have one. I imagine we all do, although some wander off to theirs more often than others. One day, I hope to get my actual physical body back to mine.

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And if you like this letter, you’ll find past letters and poems here. And if you know someone who would enjoy these letters, send them here!

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Leaving the Nest

Young hawk has left the nest perhaps

only for a trial flight but I hear it crying

at the front of the house this morning.

When Peter stood for the first time

on his own clinging to the edge of the

toy box he turned to me with a look of

panic at what he had done.  What now?

his small face seemed to ask.

A writer I admire died last night

left this world I hope without panic

though she loved all that it held.

I hold now to her earlier advice

about knowing what you love so

that you can do a great deal of it.

Peter now moves easily through the world

India China Africa Iceland Europe.

The hawk will one day leave the nest forever

soar and wheel as its parents do now.

And I?  I will continue to write.