The Tide Coming In
Focus on the pretty sunset, not the rising water
Standing in the beach
Watching the tide come in
Not all at once, but waves
That tease and lap,
Sometimes just sea foam
Tickling my chin,
But other times
That rogue wave,
Unexpected,
That assaults my nose and eyes,
Leaving me gasping.
Standing in the beach
Watching the tide creep in,
Unstoppable,
Inevitable,
Just timing is the question
When the tidal charts
Have all vanished.
Standing in the beach
Staring at the tide
Building up,
Remembering old times
And crying,
Tears lost in the surf.
Standing in the beach,
Buried in sand
Up to my neck,
Watching the tide come in.
Musings on impending dementia. Or senility (does anyone use that term these days?), or the long term and basically inevitable effects of a traumatic brain injury suffered in my youth.
We had our grand-niece over at our house most of the day yesterday, and there were things I wanted to get done on the computer, just let me get through these, honey; but a four-year-old has her own priorities, and after each interruption of unpredictable timing and duration, I would be sitting thinking, “What was I doing?…What was I doing?” And at the end of the day my brain and body could not distinguish between what should have been a pleasant day with a lovely child and a Bad Day At Work (also full of interruptions of unpredictable timing and duration) and I was a wreck, with headaches and chest pain.
I am hoping that retiring from work will let my brain bounce back enough to where spending a day with a child will be a pleasure again. At least for a few years.
