Close your eyes tight and imagine you’re here,
Between sage and these stones.
You smell the baked earth and drink in the silence,
Of a place older than your grandfather’s father’s home.
Listen close to the babbling creek and hear each word,
As water runs from high mountain snow.
Wish upon the very wind and come back to this, your hearthstone.
-M.E. InkOwl
Along this path well know to our feet,
We tread with deliberate pace.
Your hand in mine, our hearts as one,
Beating in time to this place.
How I love to see you with hair aglow,
In these rays of the setting sun.
Your smile so gentle and eyes so rich,
No wonder I want for nothing.
So hold you close as I always do,
As we walk the path round our pond.
-M.E. InkOwl
Quicken within,
Tap roots down deep,
Swell with nourishment.
Seek clouds on high,
And leaves so broad,
Thicken the stalks around.
Spring has awoken,
And so shall the dawn,
Let us renew our world once more.
-M.E. InkOwl
What adventure is this?
Ever unfolding the great paper of life,
As you grow larger your mind increases.
You that spouts the philosophy of youth,
And then utters profound earth moving thoughts.
I forget as only adults can,
Please forgive as a child always does.
-M.E. InkOwl
“I’m too old for this,” she moaned as we repositioned her body higher up in the hospital bed.
“You are not,” I said, looking her square in the eye.
Her eyes narrowed and a gnarled hand reached up to point a finger at my chest, “Boy, I’m 86 years old, I’ve got 15 great-grandkids, and I’m stuck in here fighting cancer. I’m too old!”
I gave a short laugh and said, “that’s nothing! I had a patient who woke up from surgery and asked where the hell she was, and what the hell we were doing in her room.”
“She was 96, and her family didn’t even bother telling her she was going in for surgery.”
My patient looked at me, mouth open in shock.
“You’re right,” she said, that’s too old.”
-M.E. InkOwl
Breathe.
Take a moment.
Exist.
Understand your footing.
Let go.
Those stones will hold you back.
Know.
Someone is waiting for you.
-M.E. InkOwl
Be frank with me,
Speak words that sink past my skin.
Share the emotions we both feel,
Express your secrets.
I am here to love,
Never to turn away.
Together we have begun,
Together we will continue.
-M.E. InkOwl
Walking between stacks filled with words,
Listening to whispers of a forgotten world.
Lend mine ears to countless experiences,
Filling this silent space to the brim.
I am lost and in love,
Where each page will take me is my heart’s only desire.
Leave me be,
So that my mind may run wild.
-M.E. InkOwl
Hide behind your hands so small,
Giggle in the stillness.
Waiting with some secret small,
To whisper in my ear.
Sneak away upon your feet,
So much bigger than I remember.
Let your mark upon my heart,
And every apple we own.
-M.E. InkOwl
“Hey Mary, sorry to bother you again,” I said knocking on the door as I stuck my head in, “I just need to check your drains.”
Mary sat in her hospital bed, her bare head wrapped In a colorful scarf. Her wrinkled face broke into even more smile lines as the eighty-two-year-old waved me in.
“Yes of course! Come check out these dreadful things,” Mary said, brandishing the fluid-filled plastic bulbs. Lines of dark red ran from the bulb and into her gown.
I knew full well those drains ended almost another foot inside the body. But it was best not to think about it. I was still a new Healthcare Assistant and wanted to put my best foot forward with my patients.
“Well they’re not not that dreadful,” I said, remembering a pair of ill-colored drains in the next room over.
“Oh really?” Said Mary, a note of incredulity plain in the air between us.
“Errrmmmm-” was all I could say without grossing her out or breaking legal confidence.
“You know Mike, I think you’ll appreciate this,” she said as a sly smile crept across her face.
“When I was a young girl my father owned his own farm. We kids would be up at the crack of dawn to help him feed all the livestock. We had cows and chickens, horses and pigs, sheep and ducks. Everything.”
“That’s amazing!” I said, emptying the contents of a drain into a cup and setting it aside.
“It was,” Mary said with a knowing smile, “but my favorite had to be the group of silly goats my father had bought at a livestock auction. They were the most bizarre animals I’d ever seen.”
“Goats are the weirdest!” I exclaimed, trying to not show how much I loved everything about goats. This poor woman already knew I was an odd duck, no sense in giving her more fodder.
“They are! They eat everything and anything they can get their little mouths on,” she said with a laugh.
I took a cup to the restroom and flushed the contents down, then returned with another container.
“Anyway that’s beside the point,” she said, lifting one of the surgical drains with a wrinkled hand, “why I mention the goats is because of these drains.”
“Really?” I asked, confused as to where this was going. An image of a goat eating surgical drains came to mind, but I waited for her to continue.
“Yeah, you see the goats made me laugh so hard because, well . . .” she paused, her face going a light shade of pink.
What on earth? I thought, pausing with one hand holding another drain and cup.
She gave a small giggle, “because they had these weird goat balls . . .”
Mary was now holding a pair of drains up in front of my uncomprehending face. My brain wasn’t registering what she was saying and it wasn’t until she threw her head back and laughed out loud that I understood.
“Goat balls!” I all but yelled as this 80-year-old woman shook with laughter.
“Yes!” she said between guffaws, “I have goat balls!”
I tried to hold my professionalism together for about three seconds and then exploded with laughter, “You totally have goat balls!”
Tears were pouring down our faces as I tried to find a seat to keep me from falling over. Mary couldn’t catch her breath as she rocked side to side with laughter.
“Oh my gosh, Mary that’s the best thing I’ve heard all day!” I said when I finally caught my breath.
“I know!” she said with glee, “I’ve been wanting to tell you this all day!”
We sat there giggling for a minute, staring down her drains, and then I remembered the cup of fluid I still held in my hand.
“I better get these emptied,” I said and emptied the remaining drain. Stepping back into the room I saw Mary’s face covered by a large smile.
“I needed that Mike,” she said.
“I did too,” I admitted pulling off my gloves and tossing them into the garbage, “I’ve got to step out now but you call me if you need anything.
Mary nodded her head and lifted a couple drains up, “If they fill back up I’ll call you to come empty these goat balls.”
We laughed more as I stepped away. The day moved on and before I knew it shift report was happening. People were moving everywhere. In the melee, I forgot to stop by Mary’s room one last time to say goodbye and didn’t remember until I was at home in bed.
A few day’s later when I came into work my manager had a small white card waiting for me in the break room.
“This was from one of the patient’s you took care of a few days back, at least I’m thinking it’s you,” she gave me a weird look and handed the card to me.
“Are you ‘Goat Boy’?
Simultaneously choking on a laugh and trying to keep a straight face I said,”yeah, you could call me that.”
Inside the card, in a neatly scrawled hand was this note:
To all those who took care of me,
While I recovered, thank you. I could never have recovered as well as I have under your special care and support. I will remember each and every one of you, you have my sincerest thanks and appreciation. And to my Goat Boy, thank you for all the laughs.
Best Wishes,
Mary
-M.E. InkOwl
