The morning was heavy with worry
My head in a storm cloud
Woke with an upset stomach and sore right knee
The body creaky with age
Then I see myself at seven
Kneeling in the backyard
My arm resting on my right knee
Blonde curls falling in soft waves around my little face
Squinting into the sun with an impish smile
I wear white Mary Janes, white socks and a white t-shirt.
An all American girl in her Bronx backyard
My blue corduroy pants with the checkerboard hem that Nana sewed on
Nana the seamstress
She of the sad eyes but gentle hands
I grew up in the city, but we always had a backyard.
The brick house behind us grew a vegetable garden soaking up sun
I remember walking around the block to that house and reaching over their stone wall to pick plump blackberries that bloomed in the summer, the juice staining my hands purple
In front of me is a circle of white rocks placed around a little tree
like an altar
Planted by Dad who always had a green thumb
Many years and lives later he would plant a jungle in Florida
A yard brimming with plants and trees
all growing huge and fat in the Florida heat and rain
I look at that little girl and then to the picture
Of me again at 40, leaning close to Dad in his tuxedo
at my brother Mark’s wedding on a sunny day in San Diego
A long way from the Bronx
Children of Italian immigrant grandparents
My grandfather Joe could not read or write in English
Yet ran a construction empire with the help of grandma Philomena
So all these years later, I wake with my pains and worries
But then the little girl is there
The young woman is there
All the memories are alive in my my heart
The doctor set up surgery this morning
I feel an opening in the earth
Where it has swallowed me whole into its warm embrace
I am sinking to the middle of the earth
Connected to everything else
Plants sing and sway in the breeze, proud of their bright colors
Reaching their bright green leaves towards me
The rivers flow foamy bubbles over the worn stones
Running over my feet in summer
Lakes sparkle with pinpoints of lemony sunlight
Making my eyes squint
Trees shoot gentle new growth towards the sun
Branches raised like arms in prayer
Sweet little animals scurry, happy in their simple pleasures
And me
My cranky knee will be fixed
My problems recede back into that place in the earth
And it burps me back out happy, refreshed and whole
Oh to live is to experience it all
The pains, the crucibles, the orgasmic highs
It’s all there starting with that little blonde girl
Kneeling in the patch of grass
Lovingly cared for by her Dad
Who carefully posed her for the picture
And circled his arms around her with love.