Breakfast of Memories

for fifty years they’d each returned
back to the same cafe
gathered round the same table
these small town knights
slowly sipping coffee
reviving the Camelot of their youth
alive again
in a breakfast of memories

stories swirled
more smiles than scars
the pranks, the mindless adventures
girlfriends real, love imagined
mountains climbed and races won
friends recalled and gone

they talked of how they’d loved this place
had never thought to leave
but life and time had swept them off
to chase their separate dreams

not one head turned to watch them go
the gray men and their ghosts
and silence roared to fill the void
of legends lost to most

tio stib

You might also enjoy: A Friend Passes, Life Journey Poems & Prose

My Dementia Diary 67 – Feeling Normal

We have two dear friends, neighbors down the street, who are quite resourceful at finding fun things to do on the cheap. This past week, they asked if we’d like to go to a free noontime concert.

“You bet!”

Friday noon found us in the center of a sunny downtown rooftop garden. comfortably shaded by trees, we sat on the lawn directly in front of the stage. While his wife took mine over to greet a mama duck and her ducklings in a nearby pond, my friend described the setting. 

It was magical, a garden paradise filled with trees and flowers surrounded by towering office buildings and All around us, the buzz of voices as the lawn filled up with other concertgoers.

The wives returned, the tuna sandwiches were passed out, and we munched happily to the delightful sounds of latin jazz. 

For a moment, there was no blindness, no dementia, just us in the midst of happy people enjoying summer music on a glorious day.

Sometimes, it’s just nice to feel normal.

tio stib

You might also enjoy: Flavors of Friends, My Dementia Diary

 

My Dementia Diary 62 – Faith

Faith. Faith Springer. A name that melts the heart.

I met her as we cared for a dying friend. Faith was a hospice volunteer and I remember she showed up each day, in any trying circumstance, with a smile and an unwavering commitment to serve. Struggling with my own fears about death, Fait calmed me. I felt humbled to be with her, blessed by the presence of an angel.

In the months after our friend passed, I often visited Faith, sat drinking tea in her garden, listening to her delighted descriptions of the birth of new flowers she’d planted the fall before, smiling as hummingbirds buzzed about our heads.

Later, as I cradled her head in my lap after she’d died, I was struck by how close we’d become in the brief times we’d shared together. Faith found a life path that brought her ultimate peace. She was the humble servant of love.

I find comfort in thoughts about my friend Faith, her beautiful soul, her overflowing heart. I am not nearly the kind and gracious being she was, but her memory inspires me to continue the daily work of loving.

Faith. Her name could not have been more perfect.

tio stib

You might also enjoy: A Friend Passes, My Dementia Diary

 

My Dementia Diary 58 – Good People

We walk every morning. These excursions are usually noneventful, visiting the fishing pier to hear squawking gulls and honking geese, wandering around the marina with its hundreds of lonely yachts, or meandering through residential neighborhoods smelling a barrage of flowers. Our route depends on my energy level, which, because I’m not a morning person and don’t drink coffee, is never high. Needless to say, we don’t walk fast.

Imagine a slug crossing a road.

Given our relatively sedate walking pace, I was taken by surprise when my wife tripped and fell yesterday. Fortunately, I was holding her hand and this grip allowed me to ease her crash onto the sidewalk. Still, she was stunned and started crying as her knee began aching.

As I knelt to comfort my fallen companion, I heard voices.

“Are you okay?”

“Do you need help?”

It seems that two women, driving by separately in their cars, had seen our accident, stopped their vehicles, and hurried over to help.

Fortunately, when the initial shock wore off, my wife was able to stand, gingerly test her knee, and take a few steps.

“Would you like a ride?” offered one woman.

Feeling we would be okay, I thanked the good samaritans for their kindness and they returned to their lives as we slowly continued our walk

I can’t see them, but I take comfort in knowing we are surrounded by good people.

tio stib

You might also enjoy: My Dementia Diary 44 – Yours to Count On, My Dementia Diary

 

Flavors of Friends

Some are vanilla,
predictably plain
Dependably true
always the same

Some are exotic
quixotic
sherbets with fireworks lives
occasionally glancing
to check others’ eyes

then the specials
like bubblegum treat
beautifully different
sumptuous sweets

Yes, chocolate, strawberry,
and rocky road too
friends of all flavors
some licked and
some chewed

like ice cream
I taste them
each one of a kind
then off on their way
they melt in my mind

Yet over the years
a few friends remain
these flavors I savor
again
and again

tio stib

2014, 2016, 2018

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Finding Home

it’s a feeling
fleeting
flying off like a nervous bird
when my heart gets too close
yet memories whisper
and I wonder
what was it
that feeling
what was
home

I know I’ve felt it
the Onenes
of place
of people
of shared meals
and wild laughter
in silent awe
watching the moonrise from a porch
sliding up a far mountain
beaming shimmering light across a silent river
sparkling in enchanted eyes

I’ve felt it
in the garden
in the sweet scent of strawberries
picked by eager red fingers
wrapped in buzzing bees and flitting hummingbirds
in the joy of harvest
in the pleasure of shared
plenty

I’ve felt it
in warm murmurs around the fire
in the clink of glasses
in the evening glow of satisfaction
gained from sweating together
building a shared world

I’ve felt it
in smiles and greetings
in walking through community
in waves to passing friends
in bonds formed
by standing together
through tough times

I’ve felt it
in grief and solace
tears shared
remembering those lost
aching for those
forever gone

now I wander
the frontiers of being
soul seeking
heart hoping
to find home
again

tio stib

2016, 2017

You might also enjoy: Two Rivers, A Friend Passes

Tags: blind poet, blind writer, life journey, home, home again, friends, friendship, Nature

tio stib

2016, 2017

You might also enjoy: Two Rivers, A Friend Passes

Tags: blind poet, blind writer, life journey, home, home again, friends, friendship, Nature

a blind writer’s path to happiness – Fauntleroy friends reunion

Blindness kept me from seeing their faces but the voices I recognized. These were the same voices I’d heard fifty years ago, laughing and yelling as we ran wildly through our young lives. My mind saw their youthful smiles from back when we had all our hair and could walk without canes.

We’d grown up in the same neighborhood of Fauntleroy, a small community on the edge of Puget Sound in West Seattle. Little did we know then just how blessed we were. There was Lincoln Park with its beach, Colman Pool, tennis courts, and a grass field that turned to mud in autumn and became the site of countless epic football games. There was Fauntleroy Elementary School, now over one hundred years old, where we all met and then proceeded on to Denny Junior High and then Chief Sealth High School and first loves, embarrassed dates, first cars, and strange teachers. And, there was the Fauntleroy Y.M.C.A. and the Leaders’ Club, our home away from home, where we learned the value of service and the joy of teamwork. It was a world where we felt safe, where neighbors talked and helped each other, where we ran about at all hours without the slightest hesitation.

It was a world that has passed by.

But, for an afternoon, I was back in that magical place with friends I’d not connected with in fifty years but with whom I was closer with than people I’ve known for the past thirty.

I’ve been wondering what “happiness” was lately, but now, days after that reunion, I realize I spent that entire time smiling. I was with friends again, guys I’d loved, trusted, and shared life’s adventures with. Somehow, with the sad exception of one, we’d all survived our own life journeys to meet up again, now grown men watching our own families grow up.

I’m still smiling!

Leaders' Club Reunion at Nichols' July 2017.JPG

tio stib

August 2017

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