So much more than an uncle (haibun)

I was away when my cousin was kind enough to phone me about the sad news but I had to write about it…will add photos when I get back home.

He was a father and a friend, a comforter and a teacher but most of all he was my protector since I was a very young child.

I grew up looking up to this handsome “James Dean” lookalike. I followed him everywhere when I could even when he was with his girlfriends. One winter night, it was a full moon and he decided to go out skating with his new girlfriend on the river behind the house. They both invited me to join them. How naïve I was to follow these two lovers but I did and I loved them both even more for it.

One Father’s Day, my sister and I bought him a necktie. He looked so shy and awkward and all he could say was, “But I’m not your father.” That year my parents had temporarily separated, so what did we know, right? Thinking about that now, it must have been odd for a 17 yr old to be looked up to as a father! Ah, kids!

I remember when I was very young before I went to school, my mother punished me for being rude and impatient with my GrandPapa. I responded to him just like my father used to talk to me when he was impatient. My mother probably knew where this was coming from and wanted me to learn that it was not acceptable. She sent me to my uncle’s bedroom to sit there until she felt I had learned. As I was walking to the bedroom, I still remember seeing my GrandPapa rocking in his chair in the living room and smiling at me. I knew then, he had forgiven me.

I sat on my Uncle Bernie’s bed and cried. I did not like being shut in and of course, I just felt sorry for little old me! My uncle came in and sat on the bed next to me and looked so uncomfortable seeing me cry. He offered me a WHOLE dime to stop crying! Now you have to understand that a dime bought a lot for a child my age! I could get a bag of chips and five gum balls!

I remember watching him from the kitchen at GrandMaman’s when he would be getting ready to go out…probably on a date. He smelled so good of Old Spice! My grandmother and he would argue like mothers sometimes do with their older teenager. He must have been about 19 because GrandPapa had already died. Poor Bernie, having lost his father so young. GrandPapa was the best father and grandfather on the planet…no, really!

I remember when I was still quite young and my uncle had seen me trying to take a cigarette from GrandMaman’s pack. I was only about 6! I know, how bad is that?! I loved the smell of fresh tobacco and especially the scent of pipe tobacco. (Uncle Bernie would add a piece of apple in his tobacco pouch to keep it moist but I think it also gave it that nice aroma too.} Anyway, Bernie, lit a cigarette and blew smoke on a tissue to show me the colour it turned into and warned me that that was what would happen to my lungs if ever I smoked. I knew he was worried for me. Yeah, well I did still smoke eventually for three decades. And every time he saw me as an adult, he would say, “You are still smoking…you know it’s not in style anymore, right?”

I remember his wedding so well. I was 14 years old. I had just become a woman that morning (and you ladies all know what that means). I felt so grown-up that day! Later, when I was 17, his wife, Denise and he asked me to be the baby carrier for their first born, Annie’s christening. I felt so proud. I used to babysit Annie since I lived next door at GrandMaman’s. Aunt Denise would ask me what I wanted to get paid for babysitting and I said, a bottle of Pepsi and BBQ chips was fine with me. I would sleep in Annie’s bedroom next to her crib and I loved being awakened by her smiles and cooing. That was the first time I experienced what it was like to wake up with a beautiful baby.

That same year I got engaged. I know, so young and my family were not too pleased but Uncle Bernie and Aunt Denise bought me my first set of sheets for our engagement that Christmas. I felt I had bonded with my Aunt Denise, that year.

Uncle Bernie walked me down the aisle on my wedding day. I felt so proud having him by my side. My legs kept shaking and he kept whispering to me to calm down. It helped, since I was just fine by the time I got to the altar but my husband was the one who seemed dumbstruck.

That year he taught me how to drive. My husband tired but that always ended in tears since he would get too impatient. Uncle Bernie trusted me and I know I did not drive that well but he gave me the impression I was fine. I finally got my license when I was 20.

One spring day my car stalled on a country road. There were no cell phones then. I remember walking to a house nearby and calling him to tell me what I should do. He came over and got on the wet cold ground and temporarily fixed what was wrong (I still have no clue what it was) and told me to go see his friend who was a mechanic, who had a garage, to have it fixed right away. What did I tell you? He was my protector!

A few years later I moved just a half hour away but I would see him less and less by then…life went on, I guess and he was such a homebody. He welcomed everyone to his home but never accepted my dinner invitations. I understood though. My uncle was the type of person who was always used to giving.

When I would visit with my children, he would tell me to let them be kids and have fun. He had lots of property at his home and he noticed that I worried too much. My kids…well, especially, my son, loved the freedom running around there. And we all loved Aunt Denise’s fudge. We would call her to say we were coming over and she would have the fresh warm fudge ready by the time we got there!

Time went by…life happened all too quickly and I moved six hours away. I was lucky to see him when I came down to see my mother. He always checked up on her to see if she was okay.

He was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s the same year my mother was diagnosed with Lewy Body Dementia. It was sad to see him when he visited my mom because he was surely seeing himself slip away eventually.

He passed just before Valentines, early morning on February 13, 2019.

May he rest In peace and tease my mom and all his siblings now. (Jan. 4 1940 – Feb. 13, 2019)

Another petal
How he will be missed
Has fallen

Another star
Twinkling in the sky
His winning smile

Another angel
A welcome committee
For me

© Tournesol 19/02/17

Goodbye Mr. Monk Troibun Daily Moments

I am going to miss this show. I used to watch it when it first came out when I lived in Toronto. At that time, it just felt too weird watching a man who had similar behaviours that one of my colleagues had. Granted, Mr. Monk’s were more exaggerated but I remember how this particular colleague got on the nerves of many of my peers. He was sweet….no, not Mr. Monk, but my colleague but like Mr. Monk he bordered on annoying, brilliant and absolutely frustrating.

So a month ago I started binging on Mr. Monk’s 8 seasons on Netflix. I laughed, cried, connected and warmed up to this guy in so many ways. Last night was my last episode and I am saddened to have had to say goodbye yet, knew it was time. There are just so many more you can add to his situation of chasing the murderer of his wife, Trudy.

I loved that guy and everyone associated with him. It is a great show on detective work and mostly on tolerance and true friendship.

So tonight, I decided to write a blurb to say Goodbye, Mr. Monk, you will be missed.

routines 
obsessive patterns 
dependable 
 
routines 
repetitive 
safety in numbers 
 
obsessive patterns 
annoying rituals 
yet comforting 
 
dependable 
always accountable 
Goodbye Mr. Monk 
 
© tournesol ‘19-02-05

same old, same old (troiku) daily moments Feb 2, 2019

Another snowy day
winter enthusiasts cheer
others read

another snowy day
low on coffee cream
trapped inside

winter enthusiasts cheer
shut-ins chanting
same old same old

others read
barefoot on sandy beaches
sun kissed cheeks

 

(c) Tournesol ’19-02-02

seeking downy comfort (troibun)

Sleep...that is what she seeks, 
sleep ...that is what she needs 
fall into oblivion 
crib of downy comfort 
sleep...that is what she seeks 
sleep...that is what she needs 
finally at the crack of dawn 
just before those early chirps 
eyelids sealing shut... 
 
 
running aimlessly 
breathing heavily 
strangers in the night 
 
running aimlessly 
hear the sounds of heathens 
searching for the light 
 
breathing heavily 
lethal  inhalations 
fill her lungs with sin 
 
strangers in the night 
flee as she awakens 
nightmares now begin 
 

Image may contain: cat


 
waiting patiently 
steady purring heals the soul 
nature, at its best

(c) Tournesol '19/01/25

does the universe even care?

mid-season blues 
like summer draughts that bring despair 
does the universe even care? 
 
summer love that has to end 
saying goodbye in September 
broken hearts and stolen dreams 
lovers mourn in muted screams 
wishing they would not remember 
 
autumn in its amber shades 
masking truths too hard to bear 
does the universe even care? 
 
school becomes a new distraction 
mothers scrimping for more pennies 
children’s shoes will not endure 
humbled with their meagre meal 
peanut butter spread too thin 
 
mid-season blues 
like summer draughts that bring despair 
does the universe even care? 
 
October ends in farce and fury 
poverty clothed in Halloween 
witches taunting mockingly  
nary a princess or a queen 
dreading winter, parents worry 
 
mid-season blues 
like summer draughts that bring despair 
does the universe even care? 
 
December heaves a downy blanket 
void of presents and empty cupboards 
January weighs a thousand woes 
hungry bellies and frozen toes 
housing they cannot afford 
 
mid-season blues 
like summer draughts that bring despair 
does the universe even care? 
 
social services cannot keep up 
greedy leaders just turn away 
their pockets lined with children's dreams 
parents working night and day 
politics drowning all their screams 
 
mid-season blues 
like summer draughts that bring despair 
does the universe even care? 
 
blindly seeking for a break 
depression hovers constantly 
winter nearing to an end 
melancholy lurking silently 
hiding spring’s utopia 
 
mid-season blues 
like summer draughts that bring despair 
does the universe even care? 
 
bound in darkness and despair 
breaking through with fiery rage 
some may find an ounce to share 
fill them with ample courage 
reaching out to one who cares 
 
mid-season blues 
like summer draughts that bring despair 
someone out there really cares! 
 
© Cheryl-Lynn  ‘19-01-23  
http://www.crisisservicescanada.ca/en/  Adults  1-833-456-4566 
For residents in Quebec 1-866-APPELLE   (1-866-277-3553) 
 
Kids Help Phone – Jeunesse Jécoute - Youths and young adult 
www.kidshelpphone.ca  www.jeunessejecoute.ca  1 800 668 6868  
 
USA https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/  1-800-273-8255 

snow, another four-letter word (Daily Moments January 23. 2019 Haibun )

It is amazing how much literature there is on the lack of sunlight and darkness affects moods and yet there does not seem to be as much on seeing ONLY WHITE F&$&ing snow. The skies are grey today and yet the brightness of the snow still makes her eyes squint and adds to the jackhammer in her head. It is said that January 21st is the most depressing day of the year. How interesting that it may be the most depressing but that does not mean that the following day it has disappeared. No siree, it lags on and on and on and lurks into February and depression infecting each day forward.

Today, she squints as she looks out the window, debating if she should go out to do some errands which would entail, getting dressed (winterizing with coat, boots, scarf, ski mask, snow pants, gloves or mitts and cleats) to the bus stop, waiting in the wind, avoiding cars splashing the slush on sidewalks and repeating the same thing on her return. It is like shampooing one’s hair: shampoo, rinse, repeat.

Fortunately, today it is a balmy –5C so she can lose the snow pants, ski mask and mitts. What a joy! It is snowing today and she stands at the corner feeling her cheeks blush with each kiss.

“Crunch, Crunch” her boots moan as she approaches destination. Taking a deep breath of the fresh air, she feels a shift in her mood and knows that this brief but effective exercise has fired neurotransmitters that are lifting her spirits. She sighs thinking of those who suffer so much especially this time of year and the risks that may entail…

mid-season blues 
like summer draughts bring despair 
in the dead of winter 
 
blindly seeking respite  
from the wrath of depression 
 
treading warily 
on grief’s temptation 
veering such demise 
 
bundling up with courage 
some may make that phone call 
 
hearing in that voice 
caring and supportive 
may give life a chance 
 
© Tournesol ‘19-01-23

pure addictions. Troiku. Daily Moments Jan 19/19

Sitting in her late mother’s rocking recliner, she pets her black cat gently. The silky fir feels  nice to her touch and the more she takes pleasure in stroking her tiny head and slender body she feels her heart beating slower. The loud steady vibrations of the purring is making her smile.

It’s like getting a booster shot of valium,, a third glass of wine or a few tokes of MJ. The lightheaded feeling makes her smile again and she admires that sweet innocence of her one year old cat.

She feels blessed. Her other cat with her hypnotic eyes also comfort her. She is truly a lucky woman.

Soft silkiness
Chasing worries away
Soothing purrs

Soft silkiness
Scent of a newborn
Melting all hearts

Chasing worries away
Effective and addictive
Like a drug

Soothing purrs
Nature’s gift
To mankind

© Tournesol ‘19/01/19 Daily moments pure addictions. Troiku

hidden secrets (troiku)

Street Art, de Gaspé, Montréal, Qc. – Cheryl-Lynn

mysteries of the mind
seeking insights
cobwebs

mysteries of the mind
hidden in a maze
only spirits see

seeking insights
muted melodies
and pleading mantras

cobwebs
heart murmurs
holding secrets

© Tournesol ‘19-01-18

emerald bliss (haiga ~troiku)

nature’s grace 
  looking out my window 
    emerald bliss 
 
nature’s grace 
 genuine and refined 
   best feline friend 
 
looking out my window 
   only she can see 
     ghosts of my past 
 
emerald bliss 
  healing every fibre 
     of my soul 
 
© Tournesol ‘19-01-18 
 

Dear Emma, (January 17 2019 ~ lucid dreams) Haibun

breastfeeding nightmare
infants waiting in the queue
sucking me dry

Dear Emma,

I called in sick today, on this 17th day of January 2019. Every joint screamed with pain. As I tried to get back to sleep, I said to myself for the first time in 18 and a half years, “I hate my job!” Just saying it to myself was a shock! You see I am the type of person that talks out loud in my mind. When I read, I talk out loud in my mind. That’s why it takes me forever to read but I read a lot so I guess I have gotten over this attribute about me.

Two weeks ago, I had difficult calls during the week of New Year’s two days in a row. Yep, call after call after call after Live Chat I heard about child physical abuse, child sexual abuse, child neglect and suicide, suicide and more suicide. That last Monday was so heavy that on the following Thursday, I did not feel the energy to go to work without throwing up. Yep, all the shit was stuck in my throat and I was afraid to open my mouth.

This past Sunday and Monday were a bit better since it was not the holiday season anymore but still. Last Monday, I ended my shift with a long 2 hour suicide call which was the third suicide call of the shift. I tried to nonchalantly chat but not requesting to debrief. I had my coat and boots on and just skimmed through parts of that call because I was also pleased that I gave something to this caller…hope. Although chatting about it nonchalantly, as if this was just sharing, I know now, was wrong. I should have debriefed privately to help me process how I felt before leaving home for two days off. Two days of allowing the suffering to fester inside of me.

I wished I had benefits to process this therapeutically with a professional but anyone over 65 is cut off from this support. Another bad employer policy…not supporting the hand that feeds the service.

This morning I woke up several times snoozing my alarm over and over and over until I finally decided that was it today! After I said those words in my head…um, I can’t repeat it here again but you just have to scroll up to the first paragraph…I felt so many emotions. I was sad, angry, frustrated, shocked and really did not want to feel anything. I wanted to roll over and get back to sleep. I got up to let my black cat, Kali, out of her room (my guest room) and made myself a cup of earl grey and came back to bed. I tried to watch a sitcom “Grace Under Fire” but my mind was still spinning. Kali jumped into bed with me and curled up in the curve of my arm and purred so loud, it finally put me to sleep.

When I woke up, Bette, my older friend, a Siberian Mix feline, was sleeping next to me. She never cuddles though. She has issues of space, contact and feeling trapped. I really enjoy her company, nonetheless as she has improved over the years and frankly, if you see her, you would have to admit, she looks like a queen. She is that beautiful!

I felt this way last year too and it was because I was refused time off to rest emotionally from my too demanding job. I had tried to avoid this from happening again this year. I had taken 10 days off in February last year and that helped my mind and soul but my body took months and months to catch up. I planned a summer of lots of time off and saved a week to take during Christmas week.

Unfortunately, the people who count our allowable time off made a huge mistake by 10 days! Yep, so by mid-summer, I was told that I could take 5 of the days I had reserved without pay in August and that was that. I knew December would be a problem. In the past 10 years, I rarely worked during the holidays because I needed to recuperate from demands of my type of work and wanted to see family and friends. In the past three years, however, I no longer even see anyone…I am that drained. I see family Christmas Day and then hibernate in my home, sleeping, writing, reading and vegging on Netflix.

I had reserved 10 days off in February this year, again but without the Christmas break time off, I did not know how much I would be able to endure before cracking. So many of my peers were taking time off, and too many had already quit. That revolving door would NOT stop spinning and as much as I try to give hope and a positive attitude at work, I could feel something I have treasured for decades was sinking into an abyss deep inside the confines of my soul. Nothing shows on the outside. I think that I still look more or less like passionate for the cause, lady, but I am struggling to keep this up.

I have never taken a job JUST for the salary. I know, I know, that may sound unbelievable but for me, it is the position and work environment that has always drawn me. I have left better paying positions to move onto positions where I could grow ; it is sort of like going to school and getting paid. I remember leaving the corporate world to stay home for a few years and type court recordings until my kids went to school.

Going back to college and taking a job as personal support worker; working in the helping field is so fulfilling. Leaving a high paying sales position to finally work full-time as a youth counsellor. Passions filled are bonuses that feed the heart and ensures employee retention. Granted we have gone through many changes and the goals have not changed but the means have. I have always felt when a workplace no longer meets the needs of an employee, it is time to seriously think of moving on. For now the service is still my passion but how long will I be able to swim without a floater?

Today, I admitted something quite frightening and I hope it is JUST the emotional fatigue talking and not a sad reality.

breastfeeding nightmare

infants waiting in the queue

sucking me dry

© Tournesol ‘19-01-17

Daily Moments – lucid dreams haibun

Daily Moments January 14, 2019 dancing diamonds

Walking to work she treads carefully on the slippery path to work.  Certain areas are covered with a thin layer of white crust that catches her eye  and warms her heart.
 
 
Diamonds  
Scores on a backdrop 
dancing underfoot 
 
Diamonds 
Beauty frozen in time 
Giggling on snow 
 
Scores on a backdrop 
Floating in the cosmos 
Granting wishes 
 
Dancing underfoot 
Despite the freezing cold 
Blinding baby blues 
 
© Tournesol ‘19-01-14 
 
Daily Moments January 14, 2019  dancing diamonds   
 
 
 
 
 

sighs of powerlessness ~ Troibun

After snoozing the alarm four times, she rolls over and greets her bff, petting her thick soft fur and whispering “I love you’s”. She then finally rises to the challenge of another new work week. Shuffling to her other bff, she opens the door to the guest room and hears the joyful purrs and meows this unique creature has. Her name is Kali. She runs up to her big, fluffy sister, Bette and is greeted with a hiss. No problem, little Kali seems to be thinking and she runs to her mistress for a pet and then lies on her tummy stretching her front paws about a metre distant from Big Sis and waits for some sign that maybe today will be the day they will play…such a patient little thing!

It is amusing to watch these two felines as she runs a hot bath to oil her old joints and then she moves on to the morning REAL priority: starting the coffee and feeding the cats.

Another week is starting and she tries very hard not think about it. Although she loves the support she offers, she is finding less comfort in the environment which no longer seems to shed enough light. She can literally hear the grumbling from within her peers’ body language and darkness hovering over their heads…

 

relentless 
deafening screams within
daunting reminders
 
relentless
dark clouds casting shadows
foreboding
 
deafening screams within
hearing their disturbing tales
smothered in despair
 
daunting reminders
exhaling melancholy
sighs of helplessness
 
© Tournesol ‘19/01/13
 
bff means best feline friend.

passions decay (haiku – troiku)

(c) Clr Avaric Desert
chocolate cheese cake 
monarch butterfly 
senses’ delights 
 
scents 
newborn baby’s skin 
lavender fields 
 
baby’s first step 
receiving that first degree 
very first pay-cheque 
 
sandy beach 
mind lulling waves 
quenching mojitos 
 
innocent flirting 
high school puppy love 
that very first kiss 
 
finding your passion 
purpose in life 
spirit swells 
 
advocate 
nurturer and supporter 
heart-filled endeavours 
 
time after time 
demands overflow
tsunami destroys 
 
slowly  
spirits 
drown 
 
     passions die 
        remnants left to decay 
           Avarice desert 
 
passions die 
spirits crushed 
brittle and futile 
 
         remnants left to decay 
     corporate poisonous concepts 
            disease of our times 
 
avarice desert 
confused yet generated 
tower of Babel 

(c) Tournesol '19-01-11


 
 

dreaming of springtime (troibun)

© Clr’17

The cold, oh the bitter cold sinks into her bones. The icy streets on her way home make her shuffle like an old lady. Always fearing another fall, she leans tentatively on her cane.

(troiku)

dreaming of springtime
lilacs and cherry blossoms
budding promise

dreaming of springtime
lovers walking hand in hand
kissing under big oak trees

lilacs and cherry blossoms
a butterfly’s delight
scents of her youth

budding promise
garden weddings
happily ever after

(c) Tournesol ’19/01/06

Daily Moments January 6 2019 dreaming of springtime Troibun

Malignant wings

Tread lightly on my broken wings,
Now pitiful but once were proud (c) Cubby at Reowr


my spirit once was very bright
commanding and illuminate

my wings were just an afterthought
my life-force from the spirit world

floating like a lunar spaceship
meditating on nameless planets

wings were just an ornament
flying force comes from within

heavenly gods fed my passion
nothing ever weighed me down

until the winds from planet earth
spread human greed and malice

my spirit died and crushed my wings
where once were oh so very proud

(c) Cheryl-Lynn ’19/01.06

Written for Cubby’s challenge at Reowr: Broken Wings

day’s end (Reowr challenge: Murmur)

The ocean murmurs to the beach
And all the grains of sand © Cubby at Reowr


giggling with sheer delight
dancing with a gentle breeze

hear the horns and bells echo
fishing boats docking with ease

seagulls standing still… stoic
on the soggy darkened beach

rapt in wonder… oh, setting star!
orange, pinks and reds afar

blending into amethyst
gentle splash of rolling waves

hoot of an owl, telling time
islanders all heading home

© Cheryl-Lynn ‘19/01/06

© Cheryl-Lynn ‘19/01/06

Written to complete the first two lines of a poem by Cubby at Reowr.com

Dreams (troiku)

Dreams like water-colored paintings 
Wash away when days are raining © Cubby at Reowr 
 
 
vibrant colours bleed 
spilling on green blades 
sinking in the soil 
 
vibrant colours bleed 
echoing cries and screams 
disappearing fears 
 
spilling on green blades 
red and green and silvery tints 
like dressing up a tree 
 
sinking in the soil 
scary images traced with joy 
making worms go wild 
 
© Tournesol ‘ 19/01/06 
 
We are asked to complete the first two lines from Cubby’s poem.
I have completed it with a troiku which is a new form of haiku created 
by Chevrefeuille at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai. 
It is also one of my favourite forms. 

Prompt: Reowr – Dreams
 
 

back to work (free verse)

Painting by Mae Giroux, Oakville, On. (my dear aunt)

 
she must get to sleep! 
in less than an hour 
bloody birds will peep 
chirping away with joy 
waiting for a new dawn 
but, 
for an insomniac 
their fervor makes  her yawn 
sometimes make her go mad! 
 
still 
she must sleep 
in four hours the alarm will buzz 
grating at her every pore 
beep beep beep beep beep 
annoying bleeping clock! 
 
today she returns to work 
a five day break she took 
away from tears 
away from pain 
away from fears 
abusive grownups 
hurting them in vain 
controlling 
and narcissistic 
crushing their spirits 
killing all their hopes 
sometimes they want to die 
it seems 
their only way  
out of such misery... 
 
unless 
 
they, I, together 
we choose  
another plan 
they’ll live on one condition 
those grownup bleepers  
will be reported 
 
the cops will come 
and bring their troops 
youth workers and the like 
 
 
and yet, 
 
more time will run its course 
over days and weeks and months 
until this youth is safe 
from physical, 
sexual 
and emotional wrath 
 
but n’er from her bad dreams 
and not from all her wounds 
no, indeed that takes 
an entire lifetime 
she’ll start the healing process 
a little bit here and there 
a break for a while 
trying to ignore the pain 
reprieve from all those memories 
 
and on and on it goes 
the victim pays a lifetime 
assailant n’er long enough 
 
who said life’s even fair? 
the wounded try to mend 
their broken and bruised souls 
abusers lick their wounds 
playing victim of their sins 
who said life’s even fair?

...one last yawn,
reciting her 3 Hail Mary's
an Act of Contrition
and prays for a better day.
(c) Cheryl-Lynn '19/01/06

Road trips (troiku – daily moments Jan 5, 2019)

(c) OliGagnon 2003
Remembering long ago short family road trips. They had little to say after so many years. The hum of the motor slowly put the children in the back seat to sleep and she was left with her thoughts. She would make up movies in her head where she was another person, vibrant and confidant.

remembering 
family drives 
country roads 
 
remembering 
searching 
from her  window 
 
family drives
muted journeys
movies in her head 
 
country roads 
fields of wild flowers 
endless possibilities 
 
 
© Tournesol ‘19/01/05 
 
Daily Moments January 5 2019  Road Trips 
 
 
 

Remembering (troibun) Daily Moments Jan 5/19

It’s 1950 something…

She was always a daydreamer ever since a young child. As she grew up she would change the endings of movies she had seen and create different scenarios. Life is like that! Movies hold only one script of a possibility.

Imagine if fathers would clean the house, cook the meals, do the laundry, shop at the grocery store, bring the children to the doctor and tuck them in! Mothers would come home after a long day at work greeted by their husband holding a chilled glass of white wine or maybe a cup of tea.

Imagine if fathers walked the children to school and talked to the teacher when they had belly aches or that boy kept pulling her hair! Imagine if fathers sat patiently at the kitchen table helping children learn their ABC’s!

Such a silly dream she had in the 1950’s but it would have been a nice change to see.

 
tripping 
falling down the stairs 
who kissed the boo boo? 
 
tripping 
Daddy catches her 
before she falls 
 
falling down the stairs 
someone pushed her 
heart aches more than flesh
 
who kissed the boo boo 
waking up to reality 
mothers know best

© Tournesol ‘19/01/05 
Daily Moments January 5 2019   Remembering  Troibun

That damn wall again (troiku)

There comes a time
helpers of lost souls
hitting a wall

there comes a time
universe sends a warning
to slow down

helpers of lost souls
sometimes lose direction
maze of great pain

hitting a wall
forcing one to stop
practicing self-care

(c) Tournesol 19/01/02

Daily Moments – That damn wall again – Troiku January 2, 2019

catch-up not ketchup (troibun)

2018 started with residues of 2017 months to heal the soul by the ocean in California and the soul slowly mended. Yet, the body takes so much longer to heal.  This was a year of change, negotiating her first collective agreement…something she never thought she would ever take part in but thinking of her peers, she wanted to give as much as she could to these angels who make a difference in the lives of  youths and heroes of the night. 

Positive change is on the rise comingled with a tsunami of service demands.  Let’s try to focus on the positive changes and see how they can manage the flood of demands a wee bit better.

The summer was blessed with a trip to Mexico celebrating the promise of forever love between her son and his new bride. A beach wedding and dining by the ocean at sunset.  How can one not embrace life and love!?

Here we are the last day of 2018 and she still feels like she is playing catch-up.  2018, a year of shedding tears, not enough to fill an ocean but certainly enough to fill a lake, a river or pond. She wonders how fresh water fish could thrive in salt water. 

Today, she listens to their pain for the last time this year. She feels her joints screaming blue murder.  Is it possible to have sympathy pains in your body for the emotional suffering of others?  The more the hours move forward, she feels her body get heavier and heavier (no wait, that might be the chocolates and mid-afternoon pastries!).   Ah, yes, comfort food…soothing taste buds feeling like that nice cookie and milk mama gave after she had fallen and she had kissed her boo boo.

embracing moments
wedding vows by the ocean
barefoot on the beach

embracing moments
rolling with the waves
salt water floater

wedding vows by the ocean
even spirits are moved
Mom’s picture fell

barefoot on the beach
playful and delightful
celebrating love

©Tournesol ‘18/12/31

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

waiting for countdown (troiku – senryu)

knitting
weaving thoughts 
melancholy wool

knitting
dropping that last stitch
New Year’s Eve

weaving thoughts 
balancing hands and loom
in tandem

melancholy wool
patching wounds
forgiveness heals

© Tournesol ‘18/12/31

tic toc tic toc
waiting
countdown to midnight

(c) Tournesol’18-12-31

Baby it’s cold outside

This is the time of year she hears pros and cons (mostly cons) of Baby It’s Cold Outside, so she decided to watch the video once more. The message she remembers getting from this since she was a young child was “DON’T TRUST MEN!” She learned that if you go home for a nightcap at a man’s home or hotel room or whatever room he borrowed for a night was, do NOT trust him. You must keep your drink of soda in your hand ALWAYS even if you have to go to the washroom…like her mom always said, “Keep your drink within your sights at ALL time because your drink could be spiked with drugs.”

Isn’t that intersesting that in the 1960’s her mom was warning her about getting raped but we did not say that word in those days. When an older man, creepy drunk uncle, granddad or dad was too touchy feely, you were told to just squirm away politely. Yep, none of this was discussed openly. Why not? Why did we not just call things as they were? A lot of girls and young women may have skirted sexual assault, incest and RAPE. You know that 4-letter word that describes NO CONSENT!

Yeah, this really irks her thinking back how things were swept under the rug.

She remembers in the late 90’, newly single in her 40’s. She did not know much about dating. What does one know about dating when one is engaged at 16? She remembers going to a dance club with her girlfriends and at 02:45 (15 mins before closing time) the vultures checking their prey from the mezzanine would come down to pick a gift to take home…or hope to take home. A freebie, no doubt since they were too cheap to even buy a lady a drink. The music got louder the last hour before closing and the beat sounded like jungle music. Really!! And that is when she started smoking again so she could sit at the bar and give an excuse she had to finish her cigarette to NOT accept to dance with any of the losers fellas there. She liked dancing with her girl friends but when men tried to join them, she felt it an intrusion of their free spirited fun. It was sad to see how some people (men and women) hoped to meet the person of their dreams at a meat market dance club.

What is that about? Looking to score with a drunk woman was their goal. How pathetic is that? The remorse the next morning and that was not guilty feelings from the hunter but the prey turned victim turned guilt ridden blaming herself that she should not have dressed like that, should not have drunk so much, should not have gone out to that dance club…period!

And so she watches the video a third time in one sitting and tears run down her cheek as a memory of something- something flashes by her eyes…a memory she had buried so far away, she never had time to process. And now the song Baby It’s Cold Outside plays for a third time and she mourns her innocence of long ago, she grieves her loss of makebelieve where peole do not take advantage of other people. She mourns the thought that doctors, priests, dentists, ministers, teachers and other professionals are to be trusted, that fathers all over the world only love and respect their daughters, that dirty old men are only those dressed in dirty ragged clothes.

Now that song takes on a whole new meaning. The song makes her sad, then angry and she is disgruntled on her way to work and impatient with people sitting too close to her on the bus and she mourns her innocence because innocence used to be oh, so bliss.

big eyes
gazing admiringly
when she was six

big eyes
laughing with GrandPapa
watching her hero

gazing admiringly
resilience and honour
GrandMaman

when she was six
heros began to fall
GrandPapa died

© Tournesol ‘ 18 /12/21

Image result for big eyes by margaret keane
(c) Margaret Keane

I love this artist that I discovered in the movie made for her and walking along the rainy streets of San Francisco two years agoshe found her gallery. It was like a child walking into a candy store.

 

holiday dreams (troiku) RonavanWrites Haiku – slow-burn

(c) Clr ’18

 
Hot mug of cocoa 
Sitting before a crackling fire 
Eyelids slowly close 
 
Hot mug of cocoa 
Memories of long ago 
Scents of childhood 
 
Sitting before a crackling fire 
Birch logs burning ever slowly 
Embers glow 
 
Eyelids slowly close 
Dreaming of ol’ saint Nic 
Sleigh bells tin-a-ling  
 
© Tournesol ‘18/12/19 
 
A Troku is a new form of haiku created by Chévrefeuille at Carpe Dieme Haiku Kai  
This is written for RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku: Slow & Burn

an angel in the night

every inn is full 
  an angel in the night 
leads them to shelter 
 
every inn is full 
  stars bejewel a stable 
such humble beginnings 
 
an angel in the night 
 carries a sacred message 
a king is born 
 
leads them to shelter 
   babe swaddled in a manager 
wise men bearing gifts 
 
© Tournesol `18-12-15

snow kissed cheeks

Dogs and cats stray
snow showers instead today
angel kissed my cheek

after a day of mourning
remembering and longing
rain clouds bowed away

such a welcome relief
fills my heart
fluttering butterflies

how I miss that blue
butterfly
maman, tu me manques
blue my favourite hue
how I knew twas you

ah but snow flakes
change everything
whiteness purifies
lightens grieving hearts

wish the snow would fall
a foot or two or three
hear the hum of snow ploughs
soft thump of falling snow

lying on the downy snow
waving arms and legs
giant snow angels
made by yours truly

dogs and cats stray
snow showers
improved my day
snow kissed cheek

(c) Tournesol’18/12/04

Daily moments December 4. 2018

summoning reverie ~ troibun Daily Moments Dec 1, 2018



message 
in my dream 
alerting me 
 
message 
urgency 
life and death 

in my dream 
you slept next to me 
then awakened me 
 
alerting me 
over and over again 
then I knew 
 

November 30th, 2014 I dreamed the same dream three times.  It was scary but you were there with me in my bed, trying to save a child from death.  

I forced myself awake for it scared me so…then slipped back into slumber and the same scene appeared two more times. And so, at four in the morning, on December 1st, I waited until dawn to call the nursing home.  I knew there had to be something wrong…no one had warned me. Not one relative had called me but I knew because you came to me and I knew you wanted me by your side. 

The nurse at the nursing home said softly “Come quick, she does not have much longer.”  The taxi took so long to get there or maybe I just wished he could have gone over the speed limit.  But an hour later, I was by your side all day and  all night until passed midnight…you raised your head slightly and turned towards me, taking your last breath.  


Blessed I am 
you could not speak 
you found a way 
 
blessed I am 
to be  
by your side 
 
you could not speak 
but acted out your plea 
in my sleep 
 
you found a way 
with the grace of God 
to summon me.   
 
© Tournesol ‘18-12-01 

Daily Moments December 1 2018  Summoning reveries   Troibun

another grey day ~ morning reflections ~ troibun

Each week is a mystery nowadays. No, actually each day is a surprise with the weather.  Last week she surrendered to her warm down filled coat and even wore her ski mask walking home! And this week the rain washed all the snow away and little bits of ice hang on for dear life (or to scare the life out of some poor clumsy person like her!)   

The first days of warmer weather were welcomed for sure but now, it is with mixed feelings. She  looks out the window with total apathy. “What again! more grey skies?!”  She shuffles back to the kitchen to make a fresh pot of coffee.  “Not enough coffee” she sighs like a martyr and takes out the espresso beans and grinds enough for her pot and a little bit more so she does not come up empty handed if she wants a cuppa later in the day. 

Her cats are sitting on the carpet looking at her expectantly. The black kitten, Kali,  wants to play but would be just as content to cuddle. She will soon be a year old in two weeks.  Bette, on the other hand, looks up at her with her dreamy emerald eyes and barely utters a”meow”. When she gets her mistress’ attention, she forces out a few more sounds pleading for food. Not a surprise to see that from this voluptuous Siberian cat  who loves to eat. 

While the coffee is brewing, Emma decides to make her bff’s (best feline friends) work a little for their food like true feline hunters.  She takes out her fishing-pole wand with long feathers attached.  Bette is really into the game and shows off to her competitor by jumping up and falling on her back ready to eat that silly bird like prey.  Kali runs back and forth, so innocent and clueless but succeeds to catch her prey a few times too. 

Treats are out and food for the beasts and now the mistress sits by the window sipping her cup of java with a sense of dread.  It is her day off and she had plans to get things done and purchase those Nordic Walking Poles today.  Looking at the jam packed parking lot of the mall across the street discourages her to even step out of her comfy chair. 

Her head is heavy with a million tiny hammers knocking simultaneously and she hopes the caffeine may help a little.  It is challenging to be cheerful looking out at so much grey today.  


lingering grey
mockingly hover  
deserted grounds 
 
lingering grey 
mud, clay, sand 
turn to dust 
 
mockingly hover 
abandoned gravesides 
mourning our loss 
 
deserted grounds 
footsteps on rich soil 
whispering adieu 
 
© Tournesol ‘ 18 – 11 – 30 
 
Morning reflections – another grey day 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
     
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 




Dear Emma – troibun

How I have missed writing to you, dearest Emma!  Ah and to spend a day of searching for prompts on different blogs, teasing my muse here and there, are rewards after a long week.  This morning I started writing and it seemed to match the weather, unfortunately. Well, I should not say it is a misfortune since any  kind of writing is a way to remove clutter in my mind and allow my muse to cleanse my soul. My oh my, doesn’t that sound a bit dramatic?!   

I do believe that pent up emotions, processing a difficult work week or just getting the angst of the holiday season or personal affairs, out of your system is a good way to start fresh.

We are nearing December 2nd and I have noticed that my moods darken a few weeks leading up to that date.  I am not usually conscious of it but this year I want to be a little more aware on how I express it, especially at work.  It is already a heavy and dark time for any kind of crisis/ helpline with broken hearts, abusive relationships and sadly the urge to end it all and leave this f&%$ng world.   Many speak with words of despair and others with such anger, I can see them raise their fist up to the sky. 

This year I have tried to compartmentalise my thoughts and feelings so I could address the needs of our service and not allow one to drown the other when I come home.   However writing was my way of shedding all negativity and helplessness. Despite lack of writing,  I think I have succeeded for the most part but three intensive weekends of school have tested the boundaries of sanity somewhat.

Firstly, I am NOT a morning person and to get up at the ungodly hour of six and see the sun rise…well, alright, it is bittersweet. So radiant a sky even though I am dreadfully exhausted.

Secondly, I have just been accommodated to work three days a week hence two-day intensive weekends for three weeks brought me back to a five-day week.  Yeah, that was certainly more than I had bargained for. 

But it has been a wonderful experience and  I was blessed with an amazing group of students…each and every one is so interesting, kind and helpful.  Each one added to the richness and uniqueness of our class experiences.  Our teacher (for my type of learning anyway) was perfect!  She allowed us to learn from each other and not spoon feed us all the time which, I know, would not have helped me and by the afternoon, I would have fallen asleep.  She motivated us, encouraged us and inspired us with her past experiences, giving us a taste of what to expect. 

She reminded me of my university professor and Dean of the department teaching our practicum in Family Life Education. She would share odd, scary and funny situations to prepare us for teaching children and adults.  The most intimidating stories were from her high school experience in Sex Ed.  And they helped me during my five years where the students labelled me the Sex & Drug Teacher. [I suppose that sounds better than the druggy sex teacher.] 

I still have online grammar assignments to complete under 40 hours [crossing my fingers that will be cut in half] to get my official TEFL certification (Teaching English as a Foreign Language).  I am planning to enjoy a 2-day weekend (Friday and Saturday for me) and hit the books on Tuesday. 

I think I really need this time off.  Perhaps I will rent a car tomorrow so I can pick up some poinsettias to place at my mother’s graveside.  I know it has been already four years and I am certainly not a young person.  I am fortunate to have had my mother in my life so long.  I know I am blessed to have had so many wonderful years growing up, as a young married adult and mother of two children. We have been tied to each other so closely for forty-five years until I moved to Toronto and even then, we spoke regularly and she would end her calls always with, “Don’t forget to say your three Hail Mary’s and Act of Contrition before you go to sleep tonight.”  My visits to Quebec were spending time with her and my children.  How my children had a great relationship with their Nanny.  I remember coming down from Toronto for 24 hours to reassure and calm her a the hospital in Montreal for tests.    I often wish I could have had my transfer much sooner so I could have spent more time with her.

For some odd reason,  my mind is remembering when I took her skinny dipping for the first time in our pool in Saint Mathias. She was giggling like an  nervous teenager.  We went into the water with our bikinis and slowly removed one piece and then the other.   I think about that now and I wonder if Mom was just pretending to be new to this just to make this experience our special mother-daughter thing. 

©Clr;17 Mom & Fred

How I miss her laugh, the scent of her cologne (Clinique Aromatics Elexir for one)  and her soft voice singing along with Englebert Humperdinck and missing most of the words (like me).   Fred, who was her second husband, love of her life and the dad I adored so much, shared her love for Englebert.  They met at his military retirement party.  She was his blind date and it was love at first dance.  I think I loved him even more because he loved my mother and treated her with such respect and affection.   Their relationship was what the movie, Love Story was all about.  He died thirteen years later but was there for my two children and he paced the floors during my labour and loved us all as his own.  My mother is buried next to Fred, so I can chat to both of them when I visit now. 

Celebrating my birthday for the last time with my mom and my grandson, and children

Oh, Emma, did I tell you that I found love letters between my mother and Fred when they were dating?  Ah, such a treasure this is.  At first, I felt guilty as if I was eavesdropping but then again Mom knew how much I loved Fred, so reading them brought me back to my teen years when they met. It was such a great time in her life and mine as well. I was engaged during the same time. Yes, at sixteen secretly and at seventeen on Christmas Eve we told  our family who were in shock! 

Oh my, Emma, my mind is all over the place but that is what a diary is for, isn’t it? 

Thanks for listening as usual, you never interrupt me.

(c)Clr,06
(c) Clr ’15 First birthday without Mom
Senryu

tu me manques 
tu sais 
chaque jour 
 
tu me manques 
quand le soleil se couche 
je te dis bonne nuit 
 
tu sais 
je pris encore tous les jours 
comme tu m’as appris 
 
chaque jour 
ton sourire rayonnant 
nourrit mon coeur 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
you are missed 
you know 
each day 
 
you are missed 
when the sun sets 
I say goodnight to you 
 
you know 
I still pray every day 
like you taught me 
 
each day 
your radiant smile 
feeds my heart 

(c) Tournesol '18-11-30

A troiku is a new haiku form created by Chevrefeuille at CarpDiemHaikuKai. A troibun is a haibun with a troiku.

 

dust to dust (daily moments)

Bette sitting to my left waiting to be petted

Dust to dust… 

The other day there was a cute joke on Facebook saying that maybe it would be best to NOT worry about dusting so much because it is possible the dust on your furniture is actually “someone” who has turned to dust. 

It was a cute post and many got a lot of laughs about it including reflections on worrying too much about dusting our homes. It will always come back!! Oh, and that we know, right?  Unless you are allergic to dust, why must your furniture be dust free every day?  Hmmm? 

This morning as I sit in my comfy chair with a bench on my left for Bette, my siberian friend and a bedding placed on my right on a shelf of my bookcase, I sip my coffee and look around at my living room. The table near the patio is dusty. Oh my, I had not noticed the bottom shelf there too!  It sure does not show at night.  Thank goodness I work late and when I come home at midnight, my home is dust free everywhere…well, I cannot see it, so I’m fine with that. 

But coming back to the dust on the  table…particularly the black shelf, I wonder if there is a possibility that someone could be there.  What if Mom was sprinkled a bit there?  What if my father sprinkled a bit of dust around the pipe rack. It was his, after all!  Wouldn’t that be comforting that your loved ones left a part of themselves here and there?  And yet…no need to have physical proof of their presence because I have always felt my departed family since I was a child. I am so glad my mother told me that my loved ones turned to angels and were with us always.  I am glad that I modified that story over time and sometimes they are angels watching out for me when I cross the street, making sure the bus waits for me and help me write down the correct answers on tests…oh boy, did GrandPapa ever help me with those tests! 

I have since thought about Karma.  I used to wonder how can there be enough room in heaven if all the souls went to heaven, purgatory or hell?  I mean, let get real here!! That is a lot of people for all those years.  So then I thought that it made more sense that the souls were recycled and came back into new babies’ and started all over again. That made sense because, well, have you ever met someone and within a few moments you felt like you knew them all your life?  That must have been a recycled soul, right?  And then I thought about Karma and it all makes sense! 

My new black cat that looks like a Bombay cat, I named, Kali, after the Hindu goddess, she seems to have connected with me from day one!  She jumps onto my chest and then spreads her body lenghwise on me, purring like a humming machine and surrendering herself to me like she trusts me with her life. Gosh, I love this one as much as my Bette…two different personalities and two beautiful souls that warm my heart. 

I have better time to spend today than dust that table. I want to buy 4 birthday cards for my colleagues who are born in December. I do enjoy being the birthday card lady at work.  We all have some task to contribute but this one is like choosing a special Happy Birthday for each person I work with during the day, evening and for those working night that I may not see often, well then, all  the more importance to that card, right? 

Making choices is so important. Will you go for a healthy walk during daylight since our days are so short now or will you dust that dresser or table?  Will you go play with your young child in the snow or must you really finish washing that floor?  Ah go for it, go for that cuppa with a friend…you will not realize how much this makes your friend happy and how it uplifts your spirit too. 

And if it is just to get out, well now, bring your tablet or lapttop to a coffee shop and people watch a few moments. You will be surprised how your muse will tickle your fancy and you will be writing again. 

dust to dust 
is that you, Mama? 
always present 
 
dust to dust 
living in the here  
even now 
 
is that you, Mama? 
Have I told you  
how much I love you? 
 
always present, 
she whispers to her 
in her heart

© Tournesol ‘18-11-28 

Kali to my right reading my narrative …or not 🙂

holiday shopping (troibun)

 

This time of year it is such a chore walking into a mall. Living across the street from a fairly popular one, I dread going to exchange a coat I purchased. I know I will be told to go to this counter, then that counter and then finally to wait in a long line of Christmas shoppers with an awkward sized box making it more and more tempting to wrap the damn box and mail it back to The Bay. And THAT is why I prefer on-line shopping.

But I want my credit right away so I am hoping it will all work out in a timely manner, so I can return home to the calmness of life with two cats looking comfortably at the snow from my comfy couch.

holiday shoppers

pushing and shoving

a whole different breed

holiday shoppers

stop right in your path

texting on the go

pushing and shoving

and that is why God created

CANES!

a whole different breed

grabby, snippy and pushy

checkin’ their lists

© tournesol’18–11-27

Slippery slopes (troibun)

The weather changed dramatically last week.  My goodness, it’s still autumn!!  Temperatures dipped into a frigid minus 15C with wind chills making it feel more like -30C.  Really! Many people disagree with this “wind chill factor”.  Usually  they are persons who usually drive to work and do not have to walk where pockets of nothingness give rise to violent gusts` of bitter cold in your face.  

I have seen snow in October and November many times before,  but I am not sure if I ever had the need to wear a ski mask to protect my face from the cold whipping against my forehead and cheeks…ouch!  It literally felt like an ice cream headache (brain freeze).  

By the weekend, temperatures rose and patches of ice appeared on the sidewalks requiring cleats on your boots [for the old and clumsy like myself]. However, when I was younger I could keep my balance fairly well  on icy patches, shuffling along those tricky areas.  Ah, but with age comes difficulty to keep one’s balance sometimes.  In my case, too many times where I fall flat on my cushion [thank goodness I have a good protective cushion!].  I carry my cleats in my backpack in case temperatures change when I finish my shift between ten and eleven at night as well.  It is a good habit to have for those who want to get to destination safely.

By Sunday morning it was pouring like cats and dogs but the temperatures had not risen enough to make it safe to walk or ride one’s bike anywhere.  Some ice patches were soft and your weight could crush it but others were still holding on to hard icy spots that could make a person slip, slide and crash.  

So I shuffled tentatively along the sidewalks to the bus terminal jabbing my cane on steady ground for stability; I was wearing my long hooded raincoat, and rubber boots and gritted my teeth and swore in “bon Québécois” along the way.  

By the end of the day, rain turned into a swirling mist that may help to maintain the elasticity of one’s complexion but only made my mascara streak my cheeks that turned me into a Pierrot. [Well, I have been called worse!]

Shuffling
 warily
 at a snail’s pace

Shuffling 
outdoors
in rubber slippers

Warily 
footprints on ice
under moonless skies

At a snail’s pace 
  safe journey
 perspicacious paths

(C) Tournesol ‘18/11/25

Daily moments November 25th – slippery slopes (troibun)

comfort is joy (troiku)

warmth
ridding discomfort
magic sac

warmth
radiating gently
hot bubble bath

ridding discomfort
feel my heart beat slower
feline on my chest

magic sac
if only
time could stop

a moment or two
savouring the glow
painlessly

(c) Tournesol ‘ 18/11/19

remembered (troiku)

© Clr’15

 

clouds hover
squirrels gather about
willows weeping

clouds hover
threatening tears
from heaven

squirrels gather about
bowing in reverence
echoes of lost souls

willows weeping
too many tombs
unattended

(c) Tournesol’18/11/10

 

Daily moments November 10/18

 

A troiku is a new form of haiku created by our teacher and mentor, Chevrefeuille at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai

Happy Birthday, my son     Troibun 

She remembers how gauche she felt that night. Her childhood friend kept her company while her husband was out playing hockey. Every  fifteen minutes the pain started.  They giggled wondering IF THIS WAS IT finally.  She was due today, November 6th and now it was well passed twilight.   

Her friend had not had a child yet and so they chatted and giggled a lot. At midnight when her husband returned she did not want to worry him and needed him to have a good night’s sleep in case they left early in the morning to go to hospital.   

She remembers her grandmother, a midwife, had said many times that if you go to sleep and the pain wakes you up, then the labour has really started.  She went to bed after her husband fell asleep and tried to sleep.  She woke up every fifteen minutes, then every ten …then every five.  She woke up at 6 having made her way to the end of the bed somehow. “How the heck did I get here?”she thought.   

 

Still worried to be sent home from hospital, she phoned a friend who had two children. She KNEW!  And gently, she advised her to wake up her husband to get to hospital. 

Her colleagues at the office had two bets going on (1) for the gender and (2) for the weight.  Lots of commotion for her first newborn. 

 

cold winds 

pushed them to destination 

…so they hoped 

 

rain clouds hovered 

threatening to some 

exciting to them 

 

woman winced 

every curve 

too many potholes  

 

man nervously sang 

I Can’t Get No 

Contraction 

 

laughing hurt her 

oh the silliness of nerves 

what awaited them  

Morning brought them to noon and a beautiful boy with the biggest blues eyes was born at 8 pounds.  On this seventh day of November, the seventh grandson in the Gagnon family and second grandchild in the Roberts family was born.

He was long awaited to mother and father and so worth the wait. 

 

eyes 

swimming in blue 

warms her heart 

 

eyes 

filled with love 

never-ending 

 

swimming in blue 

looking up at her 

so much love

 

warms her heart 

forty years later 

still 

 

…not the end…

 

(c) Tournesol’18/11/07

Le mois des morts   (troibun)

November enters in darkness filled with rain clouds and violent winds.  Leaves forming a patchwork coverlet on lawns.  Darkness and decay embrace. 

The willows stand sadly, hairless and lonely in the meadow of death. Safe for a few pines here and there, wind whistles through bare branches mockingly.    

She cuts the stems of the flowers to avoid having them bow in the wind like rag dolls and places them on her loved one’s bed, still feeling the sting of grief. 

(troiku)

raindrops blend 

sense of decay and lost souls, 

shimmering tears 

 

raindrops blend 

fallen leaves await 

resting for a season 

 

sense of decay and lost souls  

echoing ancient tales 

in eerie silence 

 

shimmering tears 

catch the light 

mourning moon 

© Tournesol ’18/11/04 

Written for Heeding Haiku with Chevrefeuille at MindLoveMiserysMenagerie

A troiku is a new form of haiku created by Chevrefeuille.  I have termed a haibun with this new form, a troibun.

 

 

 

 

Visitation  ( haibun ) 

 It was late one night in December 2014.  Christmas was a few weeks away.  She turned off the sounds of Christmas carols since it felt blasphemy to hear lyrics of “comfort and joy”.   She streamed movies to escape her thoughts when writing was too painful. But in the wee hours of the morning, she would lower the sound so her neighbours could sleep through the night.  “Lucky them,”she often thought.  How she wished she could turn off her brain and sleep.  What a world would be for her to fill her mind with “nothingness”.   

She sat in her lazyboy looking out the window at the snow falling.  Each snowflake different from the other.  How amazing is that? she wondered.  And then she heard her coffee maker making spits and spats.  It was three in the morning.  What the heck is going on? 

She got up and unplugged her coffee maker and said aloud, “Okay, Mom, that was weird.  How the heck did you do that?”   She sat in the old antique chair in the kitchen and felt a presence…her presence.  A cool breeze was blowing her way and she closed her eyes and thought in her mind, “It’s okay, Mom, I’m not scared.  How I miss your hugs!” Tears streaming down her cheeks she felt a coldness pass through her entire body slowly.  How amazing is that?!  Her mother was able to communicate her unconditional love to her even from the afterlife.  Was it her spirit?  Was it her phantom?  Whatever it was, it appeased her knowing her mother was still sticking around for her before travelling in other mysterious spheres.   

breathing
frigid air through her chest
touched by an angel

(c) Tournesol’18-11-03

Her mother passed December 2nd, 2014

who will remove all the weeds? (Troibun)

Tournesol dans un Jardin

(c)Clr’18

She sits in her armchair, her feline friend loyally by her side on her comfy bench. A time to think of life past and present not knowing what the future will bring. One lives a life filled with hope as a child, moments of despair as a teen filled with hope and fairy tales, somewhat like a garden. And then becomes an adult and reality settles in…

Adulthood brings puzzlement and how many seeds to plant and how to remove the weeds. Mistakes and suffering only bring more valuable life lessons.

Middle age seeks passion and discernment, finding a bigger terrain that will house the most thriving and nourishing garden. If one is fortunate, they will be rewarded with their dream garden filling all their needs especially that of compassion in helping new seedlings to flourish into beautiful flora despite broken stems or torn leaves.

Such a rich terrain…

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Morning alarm (Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers)

Tournesol dans un Jardin

Sparrows chirped in the old oak tree bidding good morning to the neighbourhood.  Soon  life would be intruding on the quiet with dogs barking, children giggling at their bus stop and cars leaving for work. For now,  at such an early hour, only Toby Tyler was riding his bike delivering the morning paper.

Further, down the street a strange car had been parked all night facing the baseball field.  No one had noticed except for Mr. Baker. He always woke up at dawn and walked Bella before reading his paper along with his morning coffee.  Bella stopped to sniff the back tires and started barking.

Suddenly two teens awakened from their late night rendezvous as they peered out the back window.

“Oh shit! We overslept!” (125 words)

© Cheryl-Lynn Roberts’18

Written for: https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2018/09/10/fffaw-challenge-182nd/

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Song Lyric Sunday Theme 2 – 9 – 18 FAST CARS by Tracy Chapman

Tournesol dans un Jardin

Songs are like time charts mapping out life’s milestones, joys and heartbreaks. The joys remembered the first bars of a song and our brain is wisked back in time with the same elation.  The heartbreaks pull you back  with a heavy heart but not a hopeless one, since you did manage to survive it.  The hard lessons in life are marked by songs as well…so much of our lives are frozen in capsules with musical notes.  Wouldn’t it be amazing writing one’s autobiography through song alone?  And with technology today, the visual would be outstanding!

The first thought that came to mind when I saw the theme for this week’s SongLyricSunday was Fast Cars by Tracy Chapman. The time was February 1995.  It was at that time a 28 year relationship fell apart.  It was a difficult time for all…especially our children.  Teens need stability in their lives and they were being served a huge bowl of chaos.

I…

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Victim No More

Tournesol dans un Jardin

(c)Clr’16

I don’t want to write about hate
I just need to have a witness
to how I feel about the unfair fate
when some adults do trespass
fathers, mothers , uncles, aunties too
on their youths who become lost
sons, daughters, nephews, nieces too
in such chaos and betrayal!
search for answers at all cost
broken, fragile and frail;
some turn out promiscuous
or conduct quite outlandish
self-harming although atrocious
it may help some to cope
finding a sort of self-control
even for a moment…gives them hope;
they search blindly, their new role
getting lost in booze and dope,
being victims and incest survivors.
some just give in to submission
sinking low into depression.
grown-ups …pseudo humanoids
violently possessed by some sort
of demon; world should make them void
acting upon perverted urges they cavort
poor young innocent girls and boys, ‘tis all the same
accounting for all the…

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girl on a swing (haibun)

Emily eats her  cookie on the swing  in back of the cottage surrounded by rose bushes, plum trees, a cherry tree and several milkweeds. She loves how the grass is tall  and she can crawl on her tummy and pretend she’s in the jungle. The grasshoppers often play dead on a blade of grass and she can outstare any bug and make it jump away.

The blossoms sure looked pretty, she thought as she passed a fallen petal gently on her cheek; it felt like Mommy’s silk scarf.

 

http://www.emagazine.com/earth-talk/monarch-butterflies-in-sharp-decline

child seeks a challenge
caterpillar stares her way
on the milkweed

(c) Tournesol’16-05-06

Written for The Carrot Ranch in 99 words, no more, no less.