Posts Tagged ‘ bill ’

Are You My Mother?

Tuesday, March 6th, 2012

"Are You My Mother?" http://www.artmojos.com

Bill is telling me about the red and black bird in the red berry bushes by the garage.

We are sitting on the patio having a glass of wine. It’s February but it’s acting like spring.

Bill points at the bird flapping around in the high bushes against the garage windows.

“He’s been throwing himself against the garage window for three weeks now! He’s crazy. He thinks he’s seeing a female bird and wants to mate.”

I say, “Yes, I’ve been watching him, too. When I drive into the garage, he comes and peck-pecks at the window. He makes peeping noises and looks at me.

“Some people,” I tell Bill, “say that their dead relatives come back as birds to let them know they are alive and well.”

I take a little sip of white wine and continue.

“So I thought, ‘maybe this bird is my mother coming to tell me she’s OK.’ The last time I drove into the garage  that bird was there, again. Staring at me. Tap, tap, tapping on the glass. I got out of the car, went up to the window, leaned up close, looked him in the eye and said to the bird, ‘Is that you Mom?’ The bird flew away so I decided it wasn’t my mother.”

Bill leans back in his patio chair and laughs and laughs.

He’s staring at me like he doesn’t know me.

“You are as crazy as that crazy bird!” He says and chokes on a handful of peanuts.

My feelings feel a bit ruffled. I’m serious about my mother possibly coming to see me as a bird. I like to stay open to all possibilities.

Bill just keeps laughing. For a man with a bad cancer, he is certainly jolly.

He’s laughing and snorting at me. He even puts out a few ‘hoots.’

I glance at him and try to look like I’m the smart one on the patio.

But Bill looks good. He decided not to do chemo and radiation. He decided to say no to having most of his teeth pulled out. He’s changed his diet, cut out sugar, and takes special herbs and vitamins.

His color is better and he’s trim, solid, and lean these days. He runs, he works on my property, he doesn’t lie around all day on the bed like he used to when he was healthy, and he’s not as irritable as he used to be.

I tell him all that.

“I’m still irritable,” he says.

I agree. But it’s less. And I like him better. As an ex-boyfriend he is quite perfect.

I tell him that cancer has been good for him.

He doesn’t like to hear this so much.

Life is an odd and puzzling mix.

Cancer can be a healthy turning point and birds can sometimes masquerade as dead mothers…but in this case, not this bird. This bird is not my mother, he is just a sexually disturbed bird. I am disappointed. But, life is full of disappointments if we let it be. I prefer to see events and situations as part of a fascinating mix of entertainment. It’s better that way.

It’s smart to stay open-minded, I think, because, frankly…you never know…one of these birds one day might be my mother and I wouldn’t want to overlook her.

*This month is a great time for a phone reading with me! Visit me at www.GodIsAlwaysHappy.com for rates and availability.

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The Little Pink Dress

Tuesday, June 8th, 2010

“THE LITTLE PINK DRESS”

(Hanging In My Art Room Minding It’s Own Business.)

I’m having a family party at my house. My sister, sitting in a chair on the patio, leans over to me sitting on the chair next to her and says, “Venus, someone has to tell you. Never wear that dress again. Go look in the mirror at your butt.”

I look at Polly, agast.

“That dress ripples all up your butt. Go look. You’ll see.” (more…)

Blessings Of An Unusual Kind

Tuesday, April 6th, 2010

My mother, who is 87, has been talking lately about the tea kettles.

“The tea kettles are doing this, the tea kettles are doing that.”

It took me awhile to understand that she is talking about the recent American political group, The Tea Party! I had been thinking, ‘Why? Why are tea kettles out doing things?’

My mother and I are sitting on her deck, watching the cars go by on the road on the other side of her wide field. My mother smiles broadly and her white hair glistens in the sun. She’s wearing her little red, dog-hair decorated sweater over her blue, green and purple top with the coffee stains on the front, with hot pink sweat pants and high rider tennis shoes.

“You look good, Mom,” I say. “I’m glad you stopped that cancer medicine. You don’t look terminal to me.”

This is the medicine that cost $4400.00 (!) a month and caused Mom’s nose to swell to the size of a small potato.

I had come over to visit her after she had been on the medicine for a few days. I kept looking at her face. Something wasn’t right, but what was it? She didn’t look like my Mother. I had studied her, carefully.

“I think your lipstick is wrong,” I said. “It’s going up over your top lip somehow and it seems odd.” (more…)


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