A Tidings of Magpies

Work is done and a most companionable moon followed me home from my shift at the human industrial plant  where I repair bad brains and injured lives. We drove as partners through the curving streets of the neighborhood, yellow-flamed windows beckoning as the dust of the day loosened and lifted, landing on a half opened car window before blowing back into the world. We passed the last dog walks of the evening. I raise a hand in greeting to all knowing how quickly their arcs too could be felled. The moon, my constant, I leave with the remains of the day for illumination. please note: photo by 5chw4r7z.blogspot.com

A Munsters' Breakfast by Jeanne Marie Beaumont Herman's big on corn, he likes to stuff his mouth with Kix and practice his diction. Grandpa and Eddie go for Trix, which pinks the milk as though it's tinged with blood. Only blond bland Marilyn will dare approach the Cheerios. They float in her bowl like small life-savers—enough she thinks to save all the passengers on the model Titanic Eddie is building for his school project down in the lab, complete with dry-ice berg and a looped tape of screams Lily has taken great pains to record for him. Lily sips only some root-bark tea. Her man prefers her wraithlike. Tonight's a full moon. She worries about Eddie's growth spurt; Herman crisply articulates what's on her mind: "You come home right after school, Eddie." The boy drains the last stained drop from his crock and wipes his moustache. "We'll work on the levers for tilting the decks," Grandp...

Well, I celebrated another birthday this week. In a little over a year I've lost some things: memory, a kidney stone I was apparently quite fond of, multiple phone chargers. One daughter has moved to the Big Easy and another to her first student apartment, neighbors have moved for various job transfers, and a best friend is gone, though the pain of her death has lessened a little. I've gained. My cholesterol numbers should be my bowling score. Or, my IQ. Lots more aches in the mornings, but I'm going to blame the Lipitor and not my new Zumba class. More shoes. Two rooms on the attic floor to remodel. More time with my hubby. We walk a lot more. We argue a lot less. A birthday around this time of year makes it easy to want to start a "new year" since autumn still feels like a time of beginnings with fresh pens and notebooks. My husband likes to announce that "this is the last roof we're ever going to replace" or "this is the last winter c...