Magazine Posts

When I see you
and you're with me,
I remember our life
as it used to be.

I know your face.
I know your name.
I know that you
Can't say the same.

The conversations with the Sunfall,
are the hardest for me to recall.
You ask so many questions of me
and expect an answer. I see
the frustration that dwells in your eyes.
I can only guess; then a surprise,
for many questions, I've heard before,
so I need to recall answers no more.

Oh give me a break,
just this one time.
Provide me with words,
that I know will rhyme.

Words that fall with a clatter,
down to the floor.
Why does it matter?
If the words that I write
are meaningful or simply just trite.
Please God, just let me sleep,
once through the long night.

There was a time,
I made you smile.
A day long ago,
Or quite awhile.
You made me laugh,
You made me sing,
Not well thank you,
It was not my thing.
You talked to me
Of life and of things,
And, of what a family
With some children brings.
Wishing I could talk now;
You no longer know how,
Your thoughts of life before,
Has flown from here
And is no more.
I know that life is not ideal
But I will tell you, Love,
Our life together was real.

When I am with you
it is then I see,
the damage done by
your loss of memory.
No recalling our life before.
No memory of where we lived,
gone are names of friends of ours.

Drove by the first house we owned;
No recognition, is what you said,
for most your memories are dead.
Driving to places, we've seen before,
as I attempt to pull memory out,
it's not working, there is no doubt.
I'll keep trying, that is for sure
or my sanity may not endure.

I threw my notebook on the floor.
My wrists are cramping.
I write no more.

I am truly blessed,
a most fortunate man,
who has a lovely wife
with Dementia; I don't understand
a disease that takes her away,
from living the life we had planned.

I feel a pain, within my chest.
It's the angst in my heart,
for the public unrest.
What can we do,
during this long fight,
to finally be at peace
and sleep through the night?

Why do I feel this dismay?
After close friends have gone away?
The loss of a friend, is hard to hear,
hadn't seen him for at least a year
and now I never will. I fear
in my mind; maybe I am next.
Who knows now? That's my pretext.

So many years have gone by when this incident occurred, I
almost forgot.
Our boys were young and wanted to fish. I wanted a boat to fish from.
I purchased a Ted Williams, 14 foot, aluminum row boat and pair of oars, from Sears Roebuck.
I was employed there and got a nice discount. A friend told me I should have
a motor. Coincidentally he had a Vintage, 1947, 5 HP Johnson 2 cycle, water
cooled motor. He told me that it needed a "quill shaft" and I had that
work done in West Seattle.
I waited until after school was out so our Sons and I
could have a few days off to fish.
I drove over to the Potholes. Don't remember the name
of the lake. I put the boat in the water, loaded the boys
and fishing gear with life jacket. I started the motor
and we were underway, as they say in the Navy.
We reached our destination and began to fish. Our luck
hadn't been good and was soon to continue the same.
We decided to return to camp so I attempted to try
to start the motor. No such luck. I grabbed the oars and
slowly began the long row back to our camp. I am sure
it wasn't that far as my memory of that time is
clouded. We packed up and went home as there was
a weather front coming in.
When I returned to work, the following Monday,
I saw my friend and told him my story. He looked at
me, laughed and said, " a 1947 5 HP Johnson, requires
you to loosen the cap on the gas tank. If you don't it will
lock up and it won't start." I don't recall using the boat
with the motor again.
I sold the boat to a friend that lived on
Lake Sammamish. If anyone is interested
in a Vintage, 1947 5 HP Johnson, outboard motor,
let me know as it is still in our garage, complete with
a quill shaft. My wife would love to have me move
it from the garage although it is in a place she never
ventures. Good boating; Good fishing.

She was fond of children, small dogs
and a lost cause like me.
She treated me with utmost respect,
this aged person; a physical wreck.
Purely platonic was the meme.
Nothing romantic
nor should there be.
A daughter it was
what it would be.
One that I relished
and others could see.