Missing Clare

Funny. It's been over four years since my sister, Clare died. Still, on a clear beautiful day like today, a slight breeze, not a cloud in the sky, it's like she's right there. And I miss her as though it were yesterday.

that's it then
that's all there is
i love you
goodbye
no second chances
no why
meaningless
i said that i'll see you
on the sunshine day

you said
no, sooner
but i found out
i'll see you
every night
in my dreams
there - joy

for a moment we
speak
and hold
each other
and laugh and hearts sing
until
i realize
you are gone
and i'm dreaming
sorrow is like a giant
silent wave
and once again
i whisper
i love you
i love you
i love you
i love you
i love you
i'll see you on the sunshine day

In the beginning

The tale of how I came to cook and dig. Not all at once. Wouldn't want to lose anyone. Not that anyone is watching.

My first memories:

1. Peeing on my mom at Cherry Street church when she left the diaper off me too long (yes, I remember this, before I was two). Her laughing at me. Me laughing with her. She is still the most beautiful woman in the world to me.
2. Stacking cans in the kitchen, pretending to make something wonderful.
3. Julia Child. I would patiently wait all week until she came on. She would describe miracles of taste and then, astoundingly, prepare them. I learned from her, joy in preparation.
4. The Galloping Gourmet. He was the laughter after the learning from Julia. This wonderful thing, cooking, could be fun! There is quite a difference in joy and fun.

When I was about five years old, before I went to kindergarten, my mother finally caved in to my pestering. I wanted to help cook, dag nab it, and I was going to help! One Saturday morning she pushed a chair up to the stove and I cooked the pancakes. That was it for me. Baking was officially in my bones. And on my fingers. Definitely appealed to my messier side.

Remember to keep them close

I had a friend in highschool. We were pretty close, for a time. As a matter of fact, she was my girlfriend for an official two days in the 9th grade. Anyone who really knows me understands that this is a pretty big deal, since I'm an "avowed" homosexual. But, we all experiment when we are young, no? Anyway, we never got past first base.

A few years ago I heard that she had killed herself. I hadn't heard from, nor seen her in many years before that. Sadly, I also hadn't thought of her for a very long time.

Hearing the news struck a cord within my heart. Lesson? Don't let friends drift away unless you mean to.

Anyway, here's what I wrote, the day I heard........


i found a star
missing
in my sky tonight
i did not see it go
as i have not looked
there
in so very long a
time
i do not remember
the last time i saw
only memory that
i did
and that it
was
once
bright
in my sky
some other time
some other
night

What friends mean to me...

friends
are the well lit places
in our hearts
they cast away
the shadows
when they are near
they guide us
in the night
when they are far
near or far
they help us
lighting
the way