You see, I’m a purebred seal point Siamese. Most of my story has been lost because I don’t speak Hooman, just Siamese. The mysteries of my early years were partially unraveled by yesterday’s x-rays of my mouth. My hooman asked the veterinarian’s assistant, “With that many fractured teeth, do you suppose Chai might have been kicked by somebody?” She asked that because I freak out and hide when my man hooman wears work boots. The nice assistant said, “Yes, that’s possible.”
I’m not one to sulk and wallow in my own misery. So I switched to my 300 mm lens. Some interesting activity up the beach caught my eye. I zoomed in on the scene. Suddenly I forgot about my morning conversation with my physician. A pod of brown pelicans — maybe close to a hundred, the males in their colorful mating plumage, and the females seemingly enjoying the attention, beckoned Oly and I to get a little closer.
From the philosophy of Get Back on That Horse after Taking a Tumble, to Yes, Bad Things Happen—Now What?, Victoria Berry shares […]
Like golden butterflies, aspen leaves flicker in themorning breezethat dares the sun to crawlabove the mountain peaksas it announces its intentionwith kaleidoscope […]
Illusive gold-festoonedfeathers,taunt the lens,tease my focus,escape digitalcapture. Flighty symbol of joy,a flash,a dodger,winging through sage,a dashing balletmastered.
A week ago, the chemo curls were long enough to where I pulled out my hair product and accessories. I felt like a girl again. Less than a week ago, knowing the nightmare of watching my hair fall out and me too vain to have it shaved, I went in for the hip-grandma look of what is essential a female’s butch cut. This halted some of my joy. It halted some of my fantasy that I was a normal person again—like one who doesn’t live her life around cancer every day.
But one of the fledglings had a problem. There was something wrong with his leg. So he clung upside down with one foot and tried to feed on the suet
My skin turned scarlet, as people had already purchased the teeny-tiny print copy. I am sending them, free of charge, the corrected book.
Also weighing in on my self-publishing choice is time. I sense that my books are timed for right now and cannot sit in a stack of queries that may or may not get read, and if sold, then there’s up to a year (or longer) to actual publication.
We have a wide-open chance to find our connection with each other as opposed to our differences that mean nothing once the fires of fear have engulfed the middle path to knowledge, peace and interconnection.