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

Spooky season  dark and mysterious  I have no fear  of ghosts and demons  witches and goblins vampires and zombies  the dead do not care  I am actually  more frightened  of the devils  who are still living they force you to mortgage your soul for their services but in the end they hold the contract in a vise like grip those are the phantoms that haunt my nightmares

What is the sound  of a heart breaking?  A soul shaking  with tremors  of terrible finality?  The most radical change  is usually the one  that is never heard by outside ears. A life decision to go on another path from what others expect as the status quo irrevocable steps unmoving words that you cannot take back no matter the cost Try to glue your life back together but the pieces no longer fit perfectly but there is a point where those cracks become badges of honor.

Some days are fine  other days my head  is full of fog  my fingers do not work  the way  they're supposed to  my joints scream  every step hurts It's more than  just bad bones and the coming of age they all tell me  to move, move, move  he says he has a 'treatment' nod nod, wink wink he says with a smirk it will feel better when you get your blood flowing take more vitamins  and hot showers I've heard all the advice all of whatever their aunt, sister, grandma has done over the years but all I want to do  is sleep.

The man in the bookstore took one look at me  and said "Bards know Bards."  We talked about lutes and lyres  harps and dulcimers  poetry and songs  Different traditions East and West musical scales Heroes and villains quests and adventures nobles and jesters Despite centuries  music and storytelling  still sing loud An English Medieval and Renaissance Song Book, Edited by Noah Greenberg. A Celtic harp charm on a silver chain and a blown glass charm with the image of a sixteenth note/semiquaver on a cord.

Leaves fall  in the autumn  they do not  plunge straight down  the breeze pushes them  to and fro as it tries  to keep them aloft  as long as possible perhaps they travel for miles and miles drift past roads and woods and dales chase each other in circles as they follow the currents far from wherever they had started  but inevitably  they touch the ground upon their final rest

sirens sing to sailors  enthrall them at the wheel  they turn the boat to face them  it splinters at the keel some face the depths so willingly the promises still ringing their minds numb to the danger to the sweetly worded singing  they thrash under the water  the song vibrates just so  surrender to the darkness  a terrible way to go

Thirteen feet of garden hose  coiled neatly in the shed  the season is nearly over  the warm spring sun  and the blazing summer heat  give way to the cool chill  of the autumn and  the bitter cold of the winter  it lies there in wait  like a hibernating snake until it is needed again