Oct 11, 2013

The First Day

It's Friday, in October, the 11th day, 2013.

The forecast is true to a beautiful fall day, the morning crisp and cool, the afternoon expected to realize the temperatures of summer, the low to mid 80*s. Perfect weather for baseball playoffs and perfect weather for the beginning of the rest of my life.   

Yesterday I turned in my badge, turned in my computer and exited the building quietly. I  honked the horn a few times as I drove out of the parking deck, when I turned the corner onto Ashford Dunwoody, I rolled all my windows down, took several deep breaths, cried and said the Our Father prayer with a flood of joy and gratitude in my heart.  

This morning I am at Far East Motor Works getting the oil changed in my car and God is across the street watching over me and the world. I am including photo so you can see what I am seeing. I will go back to this place when I return from Ghana and photograph it midday when the light conditions are better.  


Across the street from Far East Motor Works in Chamblee, GA 


There is no coincidence that the tree where He is watching over the world is also serving as the anchor to a worn and weathered hammock. For me the hammock, a visual reminder and visual invitation to rest, to reserve moments of reflection and realization for all the blessing in my life. In my excitement and joy I need to remember to be still and be cognizant of all the good in my life, my family, my friends, Renee, Kwame, the opportunities that lie ahead, the amazing treasure of memories I have in my heart of days gone by. 

Today especially I remember my parents, JoAnn and Rogelio.  Even though I am almost 55, there is a little girl in me that wants them to know I am doing well and that I am living their legacy of being wonderful, wonderful parents. I wrote this poem about them a few years ago. Mom and Dad, I love you.

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DNA


I have my Father’s yellow teeth, my Mother’s heavy footsteps
Their DNA heavy in my cells, not a drop wasted at conception

I have their need for order, their habit of packing in advance 
Of any adventure, I bring home gifts like they did

I have their ways about the dinner table, placemats & cloth napkins
And if possible at the center, elegant torch gingers their favorites

My love of bacon and French Toast a direct link to my Mother
Baked beans and everything else, my Father

I’ve been told many times that I move my head just like JoAnn
The way I turn and smile, my chin slightly forward and up

I look in the mirror for her semblance, I try to find the exact blue in her eyes
38 years later I am not sure if I see memory or imagination

The tiny archipelago of age spots on my face, from DAD, DAD, DAD
That signature trait from Arosemena generations

I am JoAnn and Rogelio, the wrappings slightly different
The contents a full disclosure of them both.