change · poetry · writing

Moving

The rumble of men’s voices
grunting shifts beneath
heavy wooden furnishings

The transition is underway
Broom and cloth at hand
I hover out of sight

Will erase each vestige of us
bless this passage, prepare
to welcome the new.

(Moving day! Prewritten for Eugi’s Causerie weekly prompt: transition. Image mine.
We will not have access to the internet for a few days. I hope to be back on the weekend.)

change · life · poetry · travel · writing

Moving

Outside, clouds hover,
heavy, threatening.

Inside, men haul –
china cabinet,
weathered couch –

accumulation
marking years,
exiting under duress

echoes fill in the spaces

scent of soured sweat lingers

kitchen counters
glare, empty

layers of our lives
stripped away

our vacated shell,
an emotional tug

Is it fear?  Sorrow?

What was it all about anyway?

closing the door behind us
locking memories in the past

we load our small boxes
essentials for a simpler life –
a home on wheels life

point our nose forward
and drive away
as the sun breaks through.

(A year ago, we sold our bricks and sticks house, along with its contents and moved into a motor home.  Now we are reversing the process – accumulating and setting up house again.  Apparently, we like change.  V.J’s weekly challenge is fittingly about home.)

blogging · creativity · poetry · writing

Storing Energy

Comfortable is the state
I aspire to today –
lounging pants,
a weathered tee,
and a pace to match.

Tomorrow, we prepare:
finish up packing,
load the vehicle,
await the signal –
the house is ours!

Small town living
is the setting of choice –
Stonetown – quaint
shops, cottages of lime,
a river running through it

We’ll settle in amongst
other seniors, register
for local activities, walk
along the trails, and
visit nearby theaters

take the grandchildren
swimming in the quarry,
blue as it is deep –
water trampolines
and kayaks ready for fun.

Yet another adventure,
in our life of many –
so today, I rest, make plans,
nap – save my energy
for busy tomorrows.

(Thanks to Fandango for the daily prompt: comfortable, and to the Ragtag community for quarry.  The focus of my weekly challenge is home. Love it if you’d join me.)

culture · Family · life · nonfiction

A Cup of Tea

My husband and I recently returned from a trip to the US, and as usual, the first thing I wanted on return was a cup of tea.  It is the one thing – next to my own bed- that I miss the most  when I am away.

What is it about a cup of tea?

Raised by a Brit, tea is part of my heritage.  Growing up, we started every day with a cup of tea, and quite often ended each day with one also.  I especially remember that as teenagers, my siblings and I would convene at the end of a night out and share stories over a late night cup of tea.  Every dinner would end with someone putting the kettle on.

My children’s father was also a Brit, and he introduced me to tea time – a ritual cup every day at four o’clock, always accompanied by a sweet or biscuit.

The secret, not practiced in many restaurants, is in the preparation:  the pot must be warmed first, and the boiling water added to the tea and not the other way around.  In our family, the milk went in the cup first, with just the right amount of sweetener to offset any bitterness.

Special tea, a concoction of mostly warm milk and honey, with a splash of tea, is a family recipe for curing childhood ailments.

I don’t drink tea in the afternoon anymore as the caffeine keeps me up at night, and I have replaced the milk with non-dairy alternatives, but I still have a sense that all is not well unless I’ve started the day with that one lingering cup of tea, prepared just the way I like it.

Ahhh, the simple luxuries of home.

(Image: officemum.blogspot.com)