Wrightings

A full moon would have welcomed this night but instead a wee slice hung like a hook in the marcasite sky. The rough road made the car pitch and veer until I slowed to a snails pace. I was never going to the get to the poetry reading on time, who found this great short cut on that stupid map?  Of course, I had, someone who actually owned a paper map of the national forest roads in the county. Mostly logging roads, pitted with deep potholes from skidders and semis. My little Hyundai was doing pretty good so I should have given her more credit that the grief as I beat on the dash when she finally plopped into one of the holes and decided she’d gone far enough.  The tires spun in the mud, I tried to rock’er back and forth to no avail. No poetry reading for me I thought. It was still early, barely 6 but dusk was here and of course as I picked up my cellphone from the passenger side floorboard, I saw the “no service” right away.  Now what, it was at least three miles back to the better road

 How not to cry For Karen When your husband needs care you cannot give  and your saintly mom has finished living the she lived and Covid 19 is something you hope to outlive  it’s important not to cry,  don’t give in, don’t ask why just holdfast ‘til this has passed you can crumble when we’re through this jumble so take a breath, take a walk,  count your blessings, just watch the clock it will tick away  and when it’s through you can say they were all lessons to be learned and your angel wings you have been earned (C)2020 J. L. Wright

  Big Sur   Born a decade late blessed to be a hippie at heart but a prim and proper teacher I knew I could never be either            really  just something in between In 1999, I drove my Volkswagen van Along CA 1, long blond hair  blowing In the wind,  singing with the Eagles I pulled into the mecca, Big Sur late on a Sunday afternoon enjoyed my cafe' faire  art in converted water tanks the manager began closing  I felt hurried  but was reassured, I was welcome  “stay as long as I want” She joined me as I sipped my  second cup, I asked what life is like on this beautiful  desolate section of the coast  She told me, Mother Nature has control  you can’t see the rest of the world  when the fog rolls in mudslides stop access to and from community comes together  shares what they have. In 1998 the road was closed for three months neighbors’ personal pantries  became grocery stores Until helicopters dropped supplies I knew I was home She invited me to stay Park in her yard Hike the tra