I find myself always trying to hold on to what I have. I don't like losing things. So, when change does come my way, I often struggle with it.
I don't know how I'm going to survive my daughter's high school years. She's almost done with her freshman year. In a few months, she will be behind the wheel of a car. There's nothing that can be done to slow this process of maturing. No way to stop my daughter from becoming an adult, short of locking her in the attic and turning my house into the setting for a V. C. Andrews novel.
So, I must learn to let go. It's difficult.
Saint Marty has to open his hand, let the blood flow back into his fingers, watch his little girl dance away.
Photo from Our Only Trip to Riverside, CA
by: Janeen Rastall
Before my uncle can say Cheese, an air conditioner shudders awake shaking the quartered window panes. I think Earthquake. A radio tosses Take Good Care of My Baby through the fence slats. I can see one leg of the neighbor’s hot pink Capris as she bends and strangles weeds. My sister pinches me. A poodle barks and chases the sprinkler’s spray. The sun flashes the patio door. From the kitchen, my mother laughs. Rats rustle in palm trees that lean from the house. My brother begins to wail and my father tries to hold onto us all.