Category Archives: Prose

One of those days.

It looked like it was going to be one of those days.

The morning walk around the block seemed to hint of it. A little mist rising from the stones … And more noise than one would expect from the neighborhood.

To chance it?

Why not! A quick step over the curb and the deed was done.

Where to? I never can tell anymore. Things change so quickly it makes my head spin! But a walk to the east is always nice as the sun does its morning yawn … Greeting yet another day … As if today was just another day!

Crossing Amsterdam … Seeing the church again brought back memories … It has been so long since I had been inside … Perhaps a detour should be made … Though when you’re not sure where you are heading … Is it really a detour?

In the October sun the stone seemed both warm and cold … The place had that quality about it … Always at odds with itself it would seem … Perhaps that’s why I liked it!

Up the steps and thru the side door … Not wanting to be seen … Almost!

I never felt comfortable with the front entrance … Leaving through the great doors … No problem … But entering?

Never!

Some things are just not done.

The stone of the place has a way of isolating things … Yet somehow keeping them connected … Through the stone. The sun and the warmth in summer never seemed to be able to get in … Though it tried as the colors from the stained glass chased each other across the walls and floor. The city too seemed kept out … It was always easy to forget it was waiting on the other side of those walls. But sounds snuck in and meandered about the place … A siren coming or going … Or it’s echo …it was hard to tell … Barely noticed, then gone … Like so many other things!

Perhaps it was … just one of those days.

You only get 365 you see … One of each. To be spent as you wish … But only once … And then … Well … No one knows.

I still have most of mine … So today did not feel like squandering … But I did not want to waste it.

Around the cathedral a few more times … chasing echoes I suppose … and then back to the sun and what was left of life.

Copyright Greg Hanawalt 10/21/2014

Thursday Morning … Heading Towards Lunch …

Things spin, they twirl, but generally they go by.

… In a straight line … or on some sort of arc … they go on.

I sort of meander … bumble might be a better word … but I notice.

Small things mostly … they grab my attention.

And today … Something new.

These things as they spin … sometimes bump … sometimes collide.

The evidence is everywhere. One rarely sees it happen, and perhaps rarer still … notices.

Not today … though it happened over a year ago.

Let me try to show you …

A Russian Ballerina, years in the making … but far from home.

The Urban Nutcracker, here in Boston …( a collision I did not see.)

A school “field trip” … perhaps you know the sort.

Duke Ellington … Billy Strayhorn …

Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy …

Someone elses tutu.

All aligned … all moving … all …

Unaware …

Lights out …

A cue …

Lights up … and press play …

A drum beat played long ago … revisits.

She starts her dance … Two saxes join in.

The drums and her dance.

More horns and she dances …

They begin to notice.

Then … something unexpected …

They clap along!!!

More horns … and she dances.

She does not hear them … yet …

Then … POW! … It hits her. She hears them and she knows.

Must dance … Must finish this dance … The look … for a split instance … across her face.

And dance?

Does she ever … They get louder … it drives through her.

More saxes …

then horns …

then …

Gone …

Things spinning … some twirling … on and on … to no ideawhere.

Do they remember?

Will she forget?

How long before her feet really felt the ground?

Can you hear them?

Did you see that?

And …

I …

meander on …