An Eighth Shot of Espresso: Coffee and Creativity on Mum's Third Shift

My facade:  someone who  has it all  together  keeps all  appointments  writes every day  edits, teaches  a good mum  in reality: someone who  cries in pain is awake at night tortured by doubt of doing a good job is barely  keeping things  together

A vessel  full of memories  as the seconds tick down  and the moments  become so fleeting  one side  of the hourglass  empties to fill  the other side when it runs out a cosmic hand reaches over to tip it so the flow begins anew  but nothing is lost  the balance is maintained  it's just the illusion  of time disappearing  into the ether.

A small river winds its way through in its banks carves a path started a long time ago thousands of years rock worn away gradually changing its course. it eventually  joins the bigger  tributaries flows past  shores that  never stay the same despite the illusion of complete stillness. Then branch out  into distant lands until it reaches  the vast ocean

Too much to do  too little time  so many  appointments  the calendar  on the wall  the clock  is ticking away  the seconds  and the minutes  of a life without pause  no time to breathe  or pause and reflect  just keep on going because the days pass by faster and faster the older you get.

Orange and purple yellow and red  duskglow the light fades as  the seconds and minutes pass  the fireflies  come out  to bid the day  farewell and  the nightingale  sings a dirge  to the setting sun.

Be grateful  for what you have Count your blessings The sun's light in the sky the wind in your hair the food on your plate from the choicest steaks to the blandest porridge And the air that you breathe but just possessing the basics  doesn't mean  that you have  to settle  for a substandard  existence  and don't let  anyone convince  you otherwise.

Obfuscate  frustrate cover your tracks  everyone  has their  own opinion  give enough of the situation to gather interest reasonable doubt  no one is really sure  just what really happened  a narrative that makes just enough sense many theories  lots of rumors  but no truth at the end

Bison used  to range freely through the plains  migrating with  the seasons  living in harmony  with the people  of the land who moved with them from place to place only taking enough for survival to ensure the generations to come  until ones who  upset the balance  dominated life  with no regard  for consequences

Don't disturb  keep your  voice down!  It is not  a library  but look!  She is  absorbed  in a book! You claim to encourage higher education! So let her  finish her  reading!  

fresh faced  and innocent  they take you  under their wing  show you the ropes  how to behave what to say where to put  your hands when to look them in the eye and when to lower your gaze  how to survive  and outwit the ones  who want to see  you fail. the years pass and you see a newcomer and so you pay it forward and complete the cycle. 

a cloud over memories  she cannot remember  a life afflicted by fog  she knows this place holds some significance these faces should  be utterly familiar but it slips her mind. what did I do have I been here before  where am I  grasping with silent fingers an unraveled tapestry a stretched fabric  of a life punctured by holes.

glass pen slender and swirled  dip the point  into purple ink  the pressure  determines  the thickness of lines smooth curves  of a forgotten  writing skill as the silent scratch of the parchment letters joined into words invite you to a party or a wedding or a letter of intention a poem of love or a binding agreement a code that hides all sorts of secrets no one can decode in this day and age.

Bamboo grows  new shoots in the spring  a forest of green  that bend  in the wind  but never breaks no matter how angrily the gale blows over them gentle rain nourish sweet soil as they reach the sky their leaves a canopy to shelter weary travelers their hollow stems support a house or become the parchment of the emperor's edict or fill the stomach of a hungry man.

Take a bite  of your favorite food  an apple, a taco  a pumpkin pie  savor the taste remember the texture  for once it is eaten  it is forever gone but it becomes a part of you nourishes your body and soul easily forgotten until for some reason you cannot have it anymore

Needle and thread  repair the rips and tears  in daughter's play dress  kiss the tears  and lovingly patch up  the skinned knees  of childhood The years pass she becomes a woman sew ball gowns prom dresses a wedding dress of satin and lace for a special day Towels and kerchiefs for a brand new trousseau quilts and blankets then back to play clothes again for a brand new generation of little ones with grass stains and skinned knees

flowers  are confused  whether it is  spring or  if it is still  the season  of snow one day warm and sunny turns on a dime to become cold and grey the next winds howl tearing off fragile petals scatter them across the poor young grass torrential rain flood and  overrun the unprepared soil and then as if in apology the sun appears again with its loving light

prince among men  known for his wisdom  his unyielding justice  his unwavering loyalty his staunch principles  a hero in the mists  of a forgotten time the bards keep his legend alive through song and story  others try to mimic him  invoke his mighty name chain their questionable legacies to his  but they are pale imitations  of the real figure  who lived and breathed

Soft of voice  modest  in demeanor  speaks only  when spoken to  stays within her sphere  does not interfere  so when the power shifts  she is overlooked  she is not a coward  she just bides her time waits for an opening a bid for freedom to hold her own destiny in her hands

nostalgic for times gone by  a place that  no longer exists  I cannot show  my kids  where I grew up time marches on like leaves that grow in the spring and fall in the autumn and dandelions that drift on the wind only to disappear  my heart is sore  that a piece  of my history  has been taken  away from me an exists only in my own memories

Crushed can served its purpose  taken to be melted down  reconstituted  changed for a newer  different life  a physical change  to house another item but still made to fit the same role and to be broken down into yet another form again  not so different  from our cycle of life  isn't it?

 a wizard arrives  when fate ordains it  neither early nor late  or by chance nor accidental sometimes bombastic  others quietly with nature as their guide or tomes with their hands prove you are worthy or just a good instinct of your potential either way they stand by your side  ready to teach  a reluctant hero

Face never shown  as the earth turns  undiscovered country  here be dragons with the rabbit maiden in a forbidding tower always dark  mysterious why won't you turn only show one face in the sun's light what are you hiding? when will we see the features  you cannot show you will not reveal that are hidden to us  since eternity

Cauliflower trees  white blooms  floret  of flowers  that look like bunches of white  snow on branches Cotton candy trees pink blooms almost like cherry but not quite soft petals rain like a crimson carpet My daughter points and laughs at the memory of a young girl with an imaginative mind naming the trees. 

the geese are angry chase him from  the parking lot they're not to be crossed this is their turf never mind that they are the squatters like a squad of elite warriors patrol their territory and don't invade their space the borders tend to be flexible with the seasons you can lay siege to their castle and just stare at each other across an invisible line.

Bird is a  broad descriptor  it covers everything: from a penguin  who cannot fly  to a phoenix  who cannot die to a nightingale who always sings to a crow stealing shiny rings to a falcon silent and deadly to a hummingbird hovering friendly life and death good and evil birds cover eternity

They tell you  to feel gratified with what you have  but that does not mean  that you should settle  for less than you are worth Do not agree  with their assessment that you should be quiet, demure and low maintenance.  Be someone who speaks up when it matters but do it with grace and tact.

Let these ideas flow  write them down  as they come to you do not depend on providence to remember them. a rainbow of  unrelated thoughts that seem so scattered and random  but when you  really look at them  they have some  connections  the mind works  in mysterious ways.

so many hopes and dreams  sustain a heavy heart  when the road is foggy and the path unclear the burden unending the sighs unsatisfied take away the sorrow  of a stormy sky  and the rain of tears  that fall on a barren garden  coax new flowers to grow from the broken refuse of childish expectations and unmet needs bright and beautiful from the grey of despair

Draig , they call him  in the Welsh language  dragon is his name  not a moniker, not a title  the mystical legend made flesh in reality  the potential of stories  in his blood the swell of pride in his heart and the wave of melody in his bones.

Locked in the pages  of stories and legends  are slivers of truth  about the bravery  and the endurance  of the common person not always heroes immortalized by monuments of marble,  whose names may not  appear in popular  annals of history the ones who just try to live in the wake of tumultuous events and whose goals are not so lofty: survive the aftermath of others' folly.

so many hopes and dreams sustain a heavy heart  lighten a troubled mind when chance or fate reduce a life to rubble and so to start again. a ray of determination takes away the sorrow  of a stormy sky  and the rain of tears  that fall on a barren garden  coax new flowers to grow a sense of pride courses through a soul that one has made it despite all the hardships to raise one's head high and forge ahead with speed.