A Moment Like This

I am so dissatisfied with my life

exept for right now.


The sun is setting over Lake Accotink
The sliding glass door is open and
I have a clear view of the sunlight shimmering on the lake.

The geese are loud.
I can hear children, faintly, clamoring.

I have a cranberry-clemintine cocktail.
A lady is walking her pug on the path by the lake.

My dog is mad at me . . .
Can't even be in the same room
Because I didn't take her for a walk immediately . . .

There is a family with a toddler walking by now,
and I can hear a plane.

No one is home. It is so quiet,
I hear the 95 year old refridgerator running,
squirrels arguing,
and the geese begging to be shot.

Mama sounded good, bright even.

On the phone, I said, "How ya' doin', Pop?"

"Super good," he said.

(mmm . . . joggers in shorts running by -
It's 57 degrees on January 20th!)

I restrained hope. He said I should talk to Mom.

Could her "interview" with the doctor's have revealed a miracle . . .
Could she be well?

"Daddy says's he's doing 'Super Good' " I said

"Oh, I guess I am" she said, not hearing me.

"No. Daddy."

"Oh, well. I guess I am too," she said.

Three whole months ago, doctors suspected that the cancer was back.
Finally. They have a plan. Chemo.

The sun has set. I will have to close the door soon.

Perhaps just having a plan brought them joy.

They sounded like thy had gotten a miracle.
My mistake. That's the sound of expecting a miracle.
If it happens, I won't be surprised.

With the sun setting, the geese have shut up.
Coincidentally, so did the refridgerator.

Now the loudest noise is a leaf chiseling over the bark of an oak,
as a squirrel takes it up to his nest.

Beautiful.

My party was stunning. I didn't leave the house that day,
nor get out of my pajama's until 30 minutes before my guests arrived.

It turned out there was a 3rd, or 4th reason for the party.

1) to introduce Puck and Memae to my friends
2) to be with my Ruthless people on the eve of the nominations.
3)An extra special early birthday present to myself.
4) and surprisingly: Bemmy's Bon Voiage.

I am so worried about him. He's on the road with Hairspray now, offstage. And this time, he's hurt. When he came home from the Beauty and the Beast tour, he weighed almost, or more than, 500 lbs. And sugars were wrong. Now he's back on the road. I hope it doesn't kill him.

I haven't turned on a light yet, nor shut the door.
It's a glassed room, but it is an old house,
and the doors look frosted, if not filthy.
They're 30 year old double panel sliding glass doors,
but the seals broke . . .

There's a train! and bikers . . .
I could see the train. In the winter,
I can see it on the trestle over the dam.
It's getting dark. And there's another train!
Going in the other direction
A commuter train with lighted windows.

Lamps are on now.
d'Oghy is back.
She deserves a walk before dusk has ended.

Ruthless! was nominated for 5 Community Theatre Honor's Awards,
including best director.

and . . . I must walk the dog . . .

If I had a gun, I'd go shoot some geese while I was out there.

I wonder why they shut up for 20 minutes!

God Bless,

Vig