Forty Plus Eight

[Teresa]

I was trapped in a mental sandwich, some insane mixture of peanut butter and mustard on rye, a dash of Tobasco and a slice of Muenster; it's a dead-end cycle, like when you talk to yourself for too long. 

 

From busy boredom I've moved into contentment, because I've self-medicated, an overdose of Halloween candy, plus my forty-eight year old feet are warm like kittens in their fuzzy leopard slippers.

 

This is forty-eight.

 

My calendar still looks like pencil and ink static, days dipped in chaos, and if I ran my tongue across October it would taste like that sandwich in my head, that and Almond Joy, so I look forward to a slower November, to the stuffing and cranberry, to the cold and fireplace, the sweaters and thickening coats on the dogs who lift their noses eagerly to the promise of more deer to chase, more walks in the changing seasons.

 

On a number line, my age is beyond the middle point, but this is no longer disturbing, most likely because I'm still high and warm, the air outside chilly, my children playing like the flavor of forever, a memory I can taste of bliss wrapped like Christmas.

 

There is a little voice, louder now, that spoke as I mounted the steps and approached the podium last Wednesday, When you get up there, you'll know who you are, and maybe with age we realize we've always worried about the wrong things, the blind end instead of the now, and all we heard was the false static instead of the voice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Angela]

Happy Belly Button Day, somewhat late.  It is wonderful to feel as if one has arrived.  Hold on to that feeling tight; it is coated with Teflon.

[Damon Gitelman]

Another very good one by T.; no surprises about that!

[Toby Tucker Hecht]

I congratulate you for finding you true self and being at peace with life.  Besides being talented, you're a good person and don't forget that.  The best is yet to come.

[Bill Lapham]

Jamie said it right; a sage, an oracle. A writer.

[bolton carley]

everything about this is fabulous!  the flavor of the kids, the bliss of christmas, 48 on the numberline, the blind end, and most definitely the mental sandwich.  that is an extraordinary line!  these are the kind of 6's you write that make me want to sink into a pillow and listen to christmas songs you could write if you so chose.  it's cozy and vivid and you.  if you're what 48 looks like, i want in!

[Cita]

T!  Happy born day!  This piece is classic T.  

[Stephen Torelli]

A delicious variety packed with life.

[Dorothy Pendleton]

Dear Teresa, so much of this is perfectly expressed, "my children playing like the flavor of forever,"and contrasting "the blind end"--so wonderfully named!!!-- to "the now."  And sentence 3 is such a celebration of being grounded in winter.  Thank you for the nourishment, you brilliant young person, you.

[Jamie Hogan]

You write like you're 248. Like you've lived about six different lives and remember more of them than anyone has a right to. Like a sage. An oracle.

[Diana E. Backhouse]

And you say you envy my talent for drawing! Boy, oh boy, I would give my all to be able to write like this.  Happy Birthday, Teresa.