The Year that Was, but Wasn't

 

I had to go back and read

what it was I wrote for the

end of 2019, to see how I

should try and wrap up the

year 2020.

 

https://aminutewithmichael.blogspot.com/2019/12/oh-god-another-new-year.html

 

The Pandemic had yet to hit

and the possibilities of 2020 seemed

mildly amusing and at its

cheesiest best.

Kids in school?

Ha!

 

2020 was the year that was,

and wasn’t. The year that

reminded us of what it is like

to lose, and lose badly.

It’s been a while since a lot

of us have had a quality

ass-whoopin’.

 

2020 was there to shove

their disgusting and diseased boot heel

into our faces and say with smiling

contempt, “I rubbed it in dog

shit too!”

Yes, 2020 came to kick humanity’s

collective ass.

 

2020 was the swirly no one expected,

yet should have been easy to avoid.

We had ample time to get out of the way,

yet our incredulous disbelief in our own

fallibility clouded our heads.

 

The tragedies of the last 12 months

have been immense and unwieldy,

like moving an elephant with a shoehorn.

So I make no predictions about 2021,

only that it is the year after.

 

It will arrive regardless of our disposition.

We will have to make the best of it as well as

we can and resist the urge to choke it out

before we have to.

 

So, all in all, the most I can

ask of 2021 is to be peaceful.

Calm, relaxed, measured and

tempered.

 

I can dream of bigger things,

but I think it’s best to keep those

quiet for a while and see how things

go. I’ll look before leaping into 2021.

 

Happy New Year Dear Loyal Readers,

and thank you for all your support this year!

Sarah's Parking Lot Christmas

 

                Sarah sat in the passenger seat of her boyfriend’s car. He’d taken the keys with him when he went into the store. It had been about twenty minutes and it was starting to get cold. Her breath was fogging up the glass and every so often she’d have to wipe it with her mitten to get a clear view of the entrance. She wished he’d left the keys in the ignition so she could at least play the radio and have some heat. Her legs were cold and she rubbed them to get the blood flowing. It was getting dark outside. Sarah could hear other vehicles driving through the store’s parking lot slush; splashing it. She looked at the time on her phone and sighed. She wiped another clear spot on the glass and scanned the store’s front entrance. 

                It was the annual Christmas Party for Sarah’s employer. She was already running late. Jacob hadn’t really wanted to go but they’d been together for a year now and she thought it was about time she showed him off. She had dressed up a little more than she usually did for the Christmas party; wrapping paper looking leggings, a fun holly inspired skirt, a silly Christmas sweater and Christmas bows in her hair. She thought she’d try a little harder this year, since she had Jacob now. She’d been going to the party for the last few years as a single woman and since all her co-workers were all married, she never felt like dressing up more than the bare minimum of Holiday etiquette required. She was excited to show off her Holiday spirit a little bit this year. She’d encouraged Jacob to get something festive too. Which he didn’t do. Resulting in the last-minute stop at the store. 

                Another five minutes passed and Sarah was getting colder. The temperature had been dropping all day and now that the sun had set, the temperature had dropped considerably. The windows in the car were all fogged now and wiping a clear spot was barely making any difference. She could only slightly make out the well-lit entrance to the SuperStore. All Jacob had to do was find something festive with a quick in and out to the store, a bow tie or a neck tie or suspenders or something Christmas-y to stick to his outfit. Which had already left Sarah feeling disappointed. Blue jeans and sneakers, an un-ironed, ill-fitting white dress shirt, and a Boston Red Sox Sweater thrown over it.  She was pretty disappointed into what little effort he had shown, especially since he knew that this was important to her. 

                On top of that, she had been sitting in his cold car for half an hour. She took out her phone and tried calling Jacob. It went to voicemail. She texted him so he could maybe let her know how much longer he would be and if she should come in and find him or if everything was all right. No response. She was getting more and more irritated and worried at the same time. His blatant inconsideration seemed to getting more pronounced with each passing day. All Sarah really wanted was someone special to celebrate Christmas with. Someone to cuddle with as they watched the Christmas Classics on TV while happily covered in a big blanket. Someone to sweetly stare at the decorated tree with and comment on how this, this is all they really wanted for Christmas. She didn’t think it was too much to ask. Jacob played video games on his team chat all last night.  He barely looked at the little tree Sarah had carefully decorated, even with little picture ornaments of her and Jacob. 

                She started to worry that maybe Jacob was losing interest in her. They’d met right after Christmas last year and everything was so sweet and nice. He was so attentive and cheerful, yet now, he seemed distant and disengaged. She knew that his work had been harder lately and he’d had some family troubles with a black-sheep sister and other stuff, but she wasn’t really sure since Jacob hardly ever spoke about it. She felt very confused, yet, didn’t want to lose what might be the most special relationship in her life. She wiped her eyes and then wiped the passenger window clear. Still no Jacob. 

                She was now nearly in the car for forty minutes and was now twenty minutes late for the party. Her confusion and concern for Jacob had quickly turned to anger. She’d kill ‘em she thought. He’s ruining this night on purpose because he didn’t want to go to the party in the first place. She was beginning to think that maybe Jacob wasn’t so special after all. Maybe she didn’t need this sort of inconsiderate behavior at all. Maybe she was worth more than this, maybe someone, some guy out there would understand her value. Maybe the Christmas gift she needed to give herself was the strength to go out there in the world alone and make her own Christmas joy.  She had felt the sting of rejection and loneliness for so long that she was sure that she could get over dumb Jacob and his inconsistent attention and affections. Sure, it would be no problem for her to call an Uber to the store, get out of Jacob’s car and take herself to the Christmas party where she’d let her inhibitions go and really show those people that she wasn’t a stick in the mud or a sad sack or whatever Daphne had called her that one day. That was it. She was leaving. 

                But wait, there were all the gifts she bought him, and the commitments to spend time with his family instead of hers and the promises made about sex and love and always being open to communication. It was too much for her to process right now. She would just have to get through Christmas and then she would let Jacob know that this wasn’t working out anymore. The she wanted more than this. She shivered. 

                Jacob opened the driver’s side door and plopped into his seat.               

                “So sorry babe, it was a madhouse in there. All the last-minute Christmas shoppers and then a fight broke out between some lady and another lady, and they were pushing each other and then a display got knocked over and all the cashiers had to stop it. It was so crazy," said Jacob. 

                Sarah frowned. Jacob put the key in the ignition and started the car. He turned the heat and defogger on. He opened a small plastic bag on his lap and took out a hideous Christmas neck-tie. 

                “How’s this look? Christmas Party worthy,” he asked.

                “Fine. It’ll be fine. Can we just go please,” said Sarah.

                “Jeeze, what’s with the attitude,” said Jacob as he put the car in drive and maneuvered towards the street. 

                Sarah bit her lip and fold her arms across her chest. Jacob turned on the radio to a Christmas music station. As the Little Drummer Boy pa-rum-pa-pa-pa’d, Sarah had already decided that Christmas sucked.   

                                                                                                ~~~~

 

--------- Normally I try and write an upbeat sort of Christmas story, but this one somehow seemed far more fitting for 2020.  So be it. In spite of how crummy this year has been I do want to thank you and  wish you and yours a truly wonderful Holiday! Merry Christmas and all that! ---------

 

 

                                                                                                                                Michael

 

Hard Times with Words

 

Shaking the dust and cobwebs

from the word box.

There are such multitudes of words to choose

from.

Yet, the only one that seems to shimmer

is, “Irritated”.

 

Irritated? That’s not really the one

I was looking for.

I was hoping for something seasonal,

or jolly.

Something hopeful or joyous, perhaps

even miraculous.

 

But Irritated is what I got. Not really the

word to put on top of the tree.

Not exactly the sort of word we need

right now.

It’s just not the word I was hoping

for.

 

I shook the word box again, hoping

for something better.

I got Irritated again.

I shook it again.

I got Irritated.

I got Irritated.

I got Irritated.

 

Now the word box is in a crumpled

heap on the tile,

and irritation covers the floor.

Amid the curses and swears, and

the angry tearful drops.

 

I’m sweaty and sitting on my haunches,

breathing heavy after kicking and stomping

that blasted word box all to hell. I’m feeling

my heartbeat in my chest and some gnawing

regret in my mind.

 

How irritating.

It’s all so very irritating.  

So silly too. Embarrassing really.

Quite silly in fact. Too silly. Maddeningly

silly.

  

I gather up the busted word box

from the floor.

I put it back on the shelf and leave

the attic.

 

Maybe next year, there

will be less irritation.

Less silliness.

More loving, joyous and

miraculous words.

 

Hear, here

 I have been,

Staring at this god damn,

Screen for so long,

Wondering when,

She’s going to get

Tired of me.

The paper,

Remember the paper 

Between your fingers,

As you felt the paper,

And you fell apart with

Each word from some,

Other voice.

My voice in your head,

That you can’t see.

Or sleep.

Until she finishes her

Song.

Everytime, she breaks

Me with her silence.

An echo in the

Dark, a puddle in the

Rain.

Another Year

 

Still here, still loping along

at my current pace,

to quote Shel Silverstein,

“I don’t know where I’m going,

but I’ve seen where I’ve been”.

a la, Backwards Bill.

 

A poem I’ve known since childhood,

which today (of all days) seems

like a very long time ago.

Yet, really, really recent.

A flood of childhood memories

are always lingering on the fringes

of my mind.

 

Yet the memories are sort of

sepia toned and rusty at the edges,

sort of an out of focus Polaroid yet revealing

so much detail in an over-bright flash.

The flash on the embarrassments,

the mistakes, the shames, the

assumptions corrected.

 

It is true that I value those

moments for the learning experiences

that they were meant to be, I just have

never quite understood why I have had

to learn those lessons the hard way;

From longing and lusty loving, to the

rejections of affections and every

hard luck emotion in between.   

 

I’ll cut in to some birthday cake

sometime soon and I’ll think about

all the cake I didn’t eat in a time when

I didn’t much like cake, but now, as I’m

older, I like cake very much.

I’ll think of the wasted selfish wishes

blown over ever growing numbers of

candles. Maybe, the good wishes too,

I suppose.

 

I’m still here, slightly happy,

less unhappy, loved and love to give.