If you were still here.I would remind you of the hot, heavy and humid June day when you were finally born-fighting the forceps that yanked you, almost against your will from the womb.You loved these sweltering days-you were born to thrive above 90 degrees, I believe. You were a heat up the grill and ice down the beer kind of guy; call everyone up and go camping at the lake kind of man. My son. My first born with almost a twin-like hold on me…Oh, I miss you. Yes, I know you have been gone already fifteen years. Yes, I have moved on-it’s just I drag your smiling spirit along for the ride. There are so many things, I would like to sit on the deck and discuss with you. The world as it is now, which is nothing like the world you left behind. Politics-I imaging we might bump heads on that one; the concept of Face Book and Instagram. I checked the freezer for Elgin sausage and fat chicken legs; I will barbecue inside because I never liked the weather this time of year. I did hear it might rain, too. I might make a chocolate cake and you would eat it all and then rub your full stomach and SMILE. I guess that is what I miss the most, my son, your smile; how the smile started in your eyes before making its way down to your mouth. That is how I remember you, how I always see you in my mind’s eye. I hope where you are there is a lake with a great place to swim, and cook for your friends and family; where the weather is to your liking and there’s a smooth spot to pitch your tent. Happy birthday, Steve.
We recently completed our most recent trip around the Sun another year encoded in the history book of life
as we know it on this small blue oasis in the milky way in my world the temperate weather had streaks of cold, icy weeks, even snow. Though aches in my old bones, I still managed to have a sparkle in these eyes as the memories of winters past moved through my memory bringing a glow with the remembering…
Last night, a Super Moon shivered in the January sky. I smiled as I watched her glow in the gauzy watercolor night even as I struggled to sleep. Let’s all buckle in for our newest journey into the wide open.
©Nancilynn Saylor 3 January 2018
Today we celebrate our son, Mike on the occasion of his 46th birthday.
He was not with us
for so many birthdays
Lost in a world where mom's and
Dads don't go
except in the nightmares
Of their minds when sleep curls up in
a cold corner of the dark room
And they can only stare silently at the
Ceiling, while the whirring fan seems
to mark the months on invisible
We joyfully celebrate his love and his gentle spirit
Thankful for his presence across the dinner table
he is in arms reach and but
a heartbeat away.
Happy birthday, sweet child o' mine!
© Nancilynn Saylor
14 December 2017
Bathed in soft blue light, I ask,
" Mary, did you know!"
8 December 2017
It has been six weeks since my fiftieth high school reunion.
I had the pleasure of staying a day with friends in the small town of Floresville,Texas about 30 miles southeast of San Antonio.
Bonnie and I were buddies our Senior year, eating lunch together almost every day, along with Claudia, another friend. We were, all three from military families, bonding over our newness at a school, where many had known each other most of their lives.
Social media reconnected us several years ago. Facebook it is good in that respect. When Bonnie and Charlie invited me to stay at their home, reunion weekend I enthusiastically accepted.
The Sunday morning after the reunion was a stellar early autumn day. We leisurely drank coffee outside under the trees and after breakfast later, went into the picturesque country town to visit a Nursery. Looking at plants, is always a favorite pastime of mine made even more enjoyable with friends.
The quiet, small town America I visited that day was brought to its knees yesterday, as a gunman murdered over two dozen people in a little Baptist church in the next community over. Two people among those who lost their lives were the people I met at the nursery-kind, pleasant good people.
When I read the message from Bonnie this morning, letting me know this, I was reminded of how fragile life is and how interwoven our lives can be. I recalled a Buddhist parable titled Indra's Web,which I read long ago. It speaks about the interconnectedness of us all.
The universal "we" of mankind made even more clear this morning in the aftermath in a small Texas town.
© Nancilynn Saylor
6 November 2017
"Your hair is like mums,"
Words murmured fifty years past
Today, mums remind.
15 October 2017
Each one called the other,
Now won't speak
one to another
Far beyond, an angel's tears
for brothers both held so dear
Mother's counsel goes unheeding
Stubbornness from both, stampeding
She turns off her light while grieving