today i'm closing my eyes.
today i'm on my back porch in atlanta.
today those giant old water oaks are sheltering me and their leaves are waving and the light is making patterns that make everything okay.
today i'm small and underneath big things like sky and tree and moon and sun.
today i'm back in a place i left long ago and long for.
today my kids are younger and making forts while i write.
today i'm listening to brandi carlise on pandora.
today their is no poverty. today their is no red dust and no crappy roads and no one i don't know, needs anything.
today no one is asking me for help.
today no one is saying fine when they are not fine.
today i'm just siting on wicker furniture and one of my friends is coming over with her kids and they will play and we will talk in regular american english and drink cold white wine.
today noggin will be the background noise in my life not tropical birds and bodas.
today i might turn the sprinkler on and the kids can get all wet which is fine because today i have a working dryer. today i don't need to worry about mango fly larvae from drying things outside.
today my kids are running barefoot and i don't need to worry about de-worming them.
enough.
but sometimes i need to go there. i need to go back. i need to allow myself to indulge the self-pity that can emerge from the hard parts of being here. sometimes i need to travel in my head to another far away life that i once lived. but then i need to travel back to my life now. here. because this is real and my kids just drove in from school. because i need to make dinner and get the laundry off the line. because i need to go bring someone some medicine and someone else vegetables, and see someones pig as promised. and i need to be a mom to those kids who might want to build forts here or play in the hose.
today, here, brandi carlise is playing and today that is enough.
today, here, the mango trees are waving their leaves and making patterns with sunlight.
today, here, i am small and still underneath big things like sky and tree and moon and sun.
today i'm on my back porch in atlanta.
today those giant old water oaks are sheltering me and their leaves are waving and the light is making patterns that make everything okay.
today i'm small and underneath big things like sky and tree and moon and sun.
today i'm back in a place i left long ago and long for.
today my kids are younger and making forts while i write.
today i'm listening to brandi carlise on pandora.
today their is no poverty. today their is no red dust and no crappy roads and no one i don't know, needs anything.
today no one is asking me for help.
today no one is saying fine when they are not fine.
today i'm just siting on wicker furniture and one of my friends is coming over with her kids and they will play and we will talk in regular american english and drink cold white wine.
today noggin will be the background noise in my life not tropical birds and bodas.
today i might turn the sprinkler on and the kids can get all wet which is fine because today i have a working dryer. today i don't need to worry about mango fly larvae from drying things outside.
today my kids are running barefoot and i don't need to worry about de-worming them.
enough.
but sometimes i need to go there. i need to go back. i need to allow myself to indulge the self-pity that can emerge from the hard parts of being here. sometimes i need to travel in my head to another far away life that i once lived. but then i need to travel back to my life now. here. because this is real and my kids just drove in from school. because i need to make dinner and get the laundry off the line. because i need to go bring someone some medicine and someone else vegetables, and see someones pig as promised. and i need to be a mom to those kids who might want to build forts here or play in the hose.
today, here, brandi carlise is playing and today that is enough.
today, here, the mango trees are waving their leaves and making patterns with sunlight.
today, here, i am small and still underneath big things like sky and tree and moon and sun.
2 comments:
Today I am flying away to a simpler place.
Today I am leaving my practice where I want to take care of simple problems
But my university does not get paid when I do that
Today I want to just be a doctor
Today I want to forego a sterile field when I treat an abscess
Just for today, I don’t want to pay malpractice insurance.
Today I want to walk away from a woman my age who slurs her words
From a brain pickled by alcohol
Whose belly is full of ascites
Whose insides are bleeding and draining her to death
Who can’t have a ten dollar procedure because
she can’t scrape together the thousands of dollars required to receive care in a shiny, cool, spacious temple of healing
when what she needs is a cold hard knife and a gentle hand
but you need more than 2 nickels to rub together to get that here.
Today I would like to see my children run with abandon through the dust.
I would like to see my daughter love her one moo cow with all her heart
I would like to see her scrape her knee and bounce back up.
I would like to see my son’s hair turn blond in the sun and his face dirty with real dirt.
I would like to see him kick a ball for fun because there is no DSIII.
Sometimes I need to fly away, across the sea.
To a simpler place, where technology does not accost us daily and where we really connect with the world.
To a simple place, where we learn that the world doesn’t stop when the electricity goes out.
Sometimes I need to indulge in that flight of fantasy
Because this comfort requires constant care and drudgery
Because I am not allowed my own priorities.
Sometimes I need to fly away
To see a friend who faces a different reality
I would bring her a bottle of cold white wine and an arugula salad
Just with lemon and olive oil and parmesan cheese.
A crusty loaf of bread would make it all perfect.
And we would compare our stories
After a while we would know that we have each made our choices,
And that neither has been more noble nor more greedy
Than the other.
We would watch our children play again.
We would sing old songs and make up new ones and dance in the dusk.
And, finally, we would return each to our own reality with a sigh
And a new appreciation for what we have.
And, not least, a renewed connection across that wide ocean.
wow. martha. i'm crying.
thank you. you are right about all of it. xoxox
i can't wait to talk and drink wine and watch our kids play. missing you.
k
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