Author: Monna McDiarmid

My blogs: http://monnamcdiarmid.com/

There were five

aplanewindow

There were five in the family.

We encountered them first
on the jet bridge.
They were so loud I thought,
“Please don’t let us be seated near them.”

The Universe does not like such invocations.
“Denied,” it said.
“You have brought this upon yourself.”

They sat down beside and behind us.
We were boxed in between fighting siblings
and a father who escalated every disagreement
loudly.

Boxed
in.

An airline attendant said
the children must be seated
with a parent so the father
took the seat behind us
and the daughter
who’d been sitting with her brother
was banished to the far side
of the middle section.

“This is the worst plane ride ever,”
she said to no one in particular.

Damien laughed.
“Come on.
That’s funny.”

Not yet.

He suggested that I meditate.
I cried instead.

I could not complete
the part of my take-off prayer
where I say “I bear no ill will
against my fellow passengers.”

After take off,
I looked for another seat.
The young Thai flight attendant
asked how he could help.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to change seats.”
He nodded solemnly.
“I completely understand.
You may sit wherever you wish.”

We moved up five rows
and slipped into
the silent anonymity
of long distance air travel.

Today at lunch I said,
“This is the worst plane ride
ever”
and we laughed.

Today it was funny.
 

Pink Runners

pink

Mother holds
her daughter
on the train
to Tokyo.

Heavy-headed girl
wants to sleep.

Mother pulls a
small plastic bag
from her purse,
a bag designed
for vegetables
at the grocery store,
and she removes
each small shoe,
cotton candy runners,
carefully lifts
each foot and
places it back down
and she packs
the small shoes
in the plastic bag
and tucks the bag
in her purse
and her daughter
pulls in closer,
wraps her arms
around her mother
and looks
around the train
smiling
as if to say
I am so lucky
that
this
is
my
Mother.
 

Pocketful of stones

water

I don’t know about you
but I’m so tired
of being vigilant.

I’ve been watchful,
on the lookout
at school
at work
at home
for decades
{four, at least}
my nervous system
defaults
at red
alert.

Not orange
or amber
but red
like blood
and roses.

This does not strike me
as a good place
to live
a good life.

My mind needs
to move to
Australia
Spain
Shimoda.

My mind needs
to go surfing.

My mind needs
a bonsai tree
a kitten
a pocketful of
small round stones
picked while on vacation.