i focus hold my breath for a minute
then bear down with all that i have
willing her willing myself
patch heal recover

small broken down apartment
narrow hallway low ceiling paint peeling off the green front door
she quickly brushed off the wooden table
into a white plastic laundry basket
mixed media pile of tshirts jeans markers plastic tubes of paint books receipts
she talked about how lucky she was to work for the after school program
she had scored all these supplies for free
i curled my toes hard in my shoes
held my tongue and nodded

words poured out of her faster than i could hear
a jumble of we are so sad we will make it together we are best friends
a duststorm of we were so much alike
swallowing me

i walked back to my faded red truck
the smell of american spirit cigarettes caught in my nose
the faint bitter taste of coffee in the back of my throat
my mind spinning with all that she said
sinking heavily into we are the same

i stood on the top step of the porch
nervous as i looked towards the microphone
past the string of lights to the women on the grass
found tables salvaged chairs legs crossed some rocking most smoking
all listening
quiet
waiting
i read from the craft paper scroll i had taken from my wall
i hadnt thought this through
didnt realize how big it was how apart i felt
these words would be out there in the world
they would all know
my voice cracked and my eyes filled with tears
and i could feel myself stepping out of the depth of sameness
toward something more real more authentic

she beamed proudly
my friends clapped surrounded me hugged me
and i knew that was the only time for me
no next time
the end of our shared story

shout from my soul

ideas visions dreams words
float through me around me in front of me
sometimes transient and fleeting
a breeze carrying the sweet scent of cookies baking or smoke from a grill
lovely and savory
short lived and delicious
sometimes they rain down on me possess me
drench me
soak into my skin
all that i can see all that i can smell all that i can taste
overrun me overtake me
fill me up

i shout from my soul into an empty room
and the words fall back down onto me
tangled in my hair
dropped on my shoulders on my lap
caught in the cuff of my jeans
and i carry them with me on me in me
dropping syllables peeling off as I walk through my day
parts of me
parts of my soul

my father had a checklist

My father had a checklist to help me prepare for my trip to Minnesota for school. Not a written one but a mental list that he walked through carefully and in an organized way.

He found a sweater from land’s end that was practical – warm without being too heavy so I could transition easily from the cold winter air to the warm classroom. He bought every color. Sherbert hues of pink, yellow, blue and green.

He did exhaustive research on my winter coat – it needed to be long enough to cover my hips and be able to withstand the unimaginable cold of Northfield, Minnesota. I saw it and knew right away that it was long and dorky and that I definitely did not want to wear that coat. Pac boots with a shearling felted insert, lug sole and laces to close the suede upper. Comfort level 20 degrees to negative 40. Practical. Rugged. Dorky.

Two large heavy suitcases - full of my practical cold weather gear. I flew to Minneapolis the week before school to start the pre-season soccer camp. Kristen picked us up in the white athletics van – four long bench seats and an interesting mix of nervous freshman and good to see you again upperclassmen. Kristen was striking in that she was short and stocky and sporty in an REI kind of way. She was the team captain and smiled easily and worked hard to make us feel comfortable. I sat next to a girl from Oklahoma who told us all how she was the best player in the state; how she had played for the best select teams Oklahoma. My mind raced back to the summer letters from Herve – all of which included very specific conditioning plans to prepare the incoming players for the season.

Houston is Africa hot in the summer and the idea of running outside seemed like the most ridiculous thing in the world to me. I was a natural athlete and soccer had come easily to me since i started playing in the fourth grade. Unlike school – where I felt like I worked hard just to keep up in my accelerated track classes – soccer was joyous and it made sense to me. I was a strong player and my love for it only made me better. I reasoned that if I could play in the Houston summer – then I shouldn’t have any problem in the fall season in the much cooler world of Northfield.

I did not train that summer and only re-read the letters for a second time on the night before I left for school. I was terrified as we travelled the hour from the twin cities to Northfield. How was I going to explain to my dad that I had come all this way and did not make the team. Clearly the girl from Oklahoma was the star and I would be lucky to even earn a jersey.

i remember

I remember my grandfather in the VA hospital in temple
Yellow skin and a hollowness that was new
He was always rail thin and taller than my dad
Meticulously groomed mustache and ironed wrangler jeans
Boots
Everyday
He would turn his hearing aid down sometimes
Watch tv and just watch
Away from the noise of so many kids and so much commotion
We would walk through the house carefully – don’t touch anything
Rabbit hutches in the back and some cows roaming in the pasture just outside the kitchen window
Peach trees growing just inside the chain link fence behind the house
Sometimes ripe enough to add to the homemade ice cream
He married Alice when my dad was 17
I knew from the overheard conversations that he wasn’t my real blood grandfather
But he fit the bill in every other way

He stood with my dad in the hallway of the house in Palestine
My dad looking down the barrel of the new shotgun
Feeling the balance of the gun and singing the praises to his dad
And then the loudest sound
We all screamed and my grandmother about had a heart attack
And then started in on them both
What were you thinking - why did you do that
Huge gaping hole in the front door
Glass scattered all across the carpeted floor
Grandmother still yelling
Someone could have been killed – what if I was on the porch
And I saw a glimpse of anger in my dad that I hadn’t before
A this wasn’t my intention and I didn’t do it on purpose and I am sorry it scared you but stop yelling at me kind of anger
And I am not sure that his mother ever let it go
If there is one thing that I know about the fielders it is that we are world champion grudge-holders
My dad replaced the front door and cleaned up the glass and my grandfathered joked that he couldn’t hear any more because of it
They were fine – but my dad and his mother didn’t ever really recover

When my dad died in 1997
The suddenness shocked us all and my grandmother was distraught
You shouldn’t have to bury your child
Nothing was good enough
My mom’s decisions were wrong for the family
Disrespectful of Alice's new found religion and rules
She demanded a viewing and my mom relented
Its this one small piece in a far away room and you kids can go if you want but im not
She said
My brother tried to stop me before I went in
Don’t burn this picture into your mind
Don’t let this be what you remember
And I pushed past him and told myself I just wanted to see his face one more time
It wasn’t him – just a familiar hollowness a gaping hole
And I didn’t speak to my grandmother after that
Never another word
Angry about how she treated my mother

I drove with my older sister to my grandmother’s funeral in 2009
A long ride in a my Honda accord with a sibling I hardly know
We changed clothes in a Whataburger bathroom
And I remember her black pantyhose and how uncomfortable she looked
And then realized that maybe it was really my own discomfort
My own I don’t belong here feeling

Open casket
Empty hollow cheeks
Jet black hair in the perfect updo
As though she had just come from the beauty shop
Pink dress? Don’t really remember
Just that she looked uncomfortable too