A Place with No Name

I’m starting a new story.    Here’s the first paragraph.   Feels magical to me.

Once upon a time…oh what a time it was, far away from here and ages upon ages ago, there was a place that had no name.  It was so long ago that mountains were three times as tall as they are now having not been worn down by the ravages of time.   And rivers, scores of them, rushed through valleys, poured down crevices and disappeared in underground caverns so large that whales traversed these subterranes with ease and used them as birthing places.

© Glenda Kotchish 2017

 

Spinning Along

I broke my ankle.   No!  I can’t have a broken ankle.   Go back together you bones!  I have things to do, scores of things and I need to be efficient to get them done.  

 

You see I have to keep the world rolling, round and round on its axis–or at least my world.    I have to keep the business running and money coming in so that I can keep the debts at bay.  There’s the business loans and the house at the beach, the empty house at the beach, that no one wants, especially us.   Then there’s the insurance payments, in case one of us dies, we can pay off the debts.    The debts, they bark quietly each month for their payments,  softly at first and you better not miss one because they will start to bark loudly and gain weight, adding interest and fees–for spite.

 

And then there’s my bedsheets.   My sheets need changing.   They needed changing before I broke my ankle.    And my clothes are piling up on the chair in the bedroom.    I hang up my clothes.   Why are they piling up over there?   And the room is dusty and the bathroom, oh my–I’m embarrassed.   It was just a little dusty around the edges before I broke my ankle.  Now,  it all looks pretty scummy.      

 

I leave a trail of dishes and cups on the counters and tables.   It’s a lot of effort to pick up after myself.   I never knew how much mess I created now that I can’t pick things up so efficiently and wisp them away,  into the dishwasher.    

 

Just turning around in the kitchen to get a cup out of the cabinet is an effort–scoot, scoot, scoot, hop–open the cabinet, get the cup,  close the cabinet and repeat–in reverse.   Before, oh before,  it was blissfully smooth–pivot, reach, open, grab, close, pivot–seconds.

 

Shifting, yes that’s it.  The world, my world is shifting.   I lie to myself that I’m controlling things, running things.  I’m not, really.    The world is spinning all on it’s own.   I’m in the spin,  rolled my ankle in the process–pop goes the weasel.   It will all work out, this way or that.   No need to worry–spin away.

 

© Glenda Kotchish

April 1, 2017

 

Virginia March

March in Virginia has a cool warmth to the air.

I remember a morning like this,

walking to the bus stop,

wearing a red coat.

 

Maybe I noticed the birds,

the trees with bare limbs

and the few flowers

that had begun to show in the yards.

Perhaps not.

 

But today I did

and blended it

with that memory

of long ago.

 

A good day beginning.

 

© Glenda Kotchish

March 21, 2017