As Summer slipped by
I sat in my room and
thought.
My arm was heavy in
my lap, my right
wrist broken.
The heat didn’t help.
“Do they even still make casts like that anymore?”
my Mom would ask.
I didn’t know what to reply,
having had no experience with
broken bones before,
only one severely ravaged heart.
As Summer slipped by
all I wanted to do was write.
Slate out the feelings and
the lingering hurt.
Ironic, then, that I could not
beyond a one finger jab
of a type that eased nothing,
only reminded;
at night I would lie
awake with the ceiling
rolling out poems that
would fall into fluff by
morning.
It felt like I was responsible for this Summer gone by
and nothing earned, no joy for winter
stockpiled
no rabid dips into the sea.
Then arrived a long-awaited
Monday in Nîmes to finally pick up
the plastic card that lets
me be an expat, an outsider
Provençale.
Hungry and celebratory,
I gathered up all of the textures with
my one good arm. Yet it
exhausted me. The exhilaration
no match for quotidian physicality.
So back to my room I went,
trailing bits of Summer like
crumbs from last years picnic.
The taste of what never
realised a too bland almost,
memories to be had.
Those who said that they would
stop by or take me shopping,
didn’t.
Which meant it was an expedition
to be invited to a lunch, delicious
save that, wine in,
forceful words
were launched (albeit with good
intentions) by someone
who
had once meant the entire world to me.
Shocked and angry, I pulled back yet again.
As Summer slipped by, it often
felt like another COVID lockdown
with far too much room to question
things like,
“Is he right?”
I would ask such
things out loud.
The ceiling was usually silent.
But the Time did pass, did
what it needed to
and so last Friday, with the work
of a whirring saw, my cast
was broken open.
The skin underneath it was slightly yellow,
the hairs on my forearm like
prairie grass.
All,
all things unattended to,
a physical translation of his voiced
disappointments.
Despite my nervous over-chatting
in that surgical
office, bright as the sun,
I couldn’t help but delight
in a tentative wrist wiggle, to remember
the much that such freedom brings.
Yesterday, I made one last stab at Summer.
Officially, it had gone
but nonetheless I tried.
Sitting on the oldest stone
steps of a familiar church –
ones worn down in the middle
from those seeking faith –
I held a cup
of sorbet. Three flavours.
Savouring, I watched the last of the tourists
gaggle at that which they knew nothing about;
yet how they had the right to be just there,
just like that.
It is what we all do, really, I understand.
My thoughts bustled up amongst
the leaves of the trees and those claims
of his that had hurt
were clamped
down by the coldness on my tongue.
“I still have beauty, despite weight gained
inside and outwards.
I also have much to give that has been buried
in everyday struggle. If I am not arriving as
I once did, I am trying.”
And then, all of those ideas became quiet
like a benediction.
With a whispering joy
this season of perpetual promise arrived.
Summer was finally in me.
I hope that you are all well. Finding the diamonds amidst the rough.
As always, I am sending much Love from Provence,
Heather
Ps. I hope that you will forgive me for not responding to all of your lovely comments on my previous post. They made me so happy and touched me enormously. Hopefully with physical therapy started, it will eventually get easier to type!
What a wonderful poem, though about so many sad and hearbreaking events and feelings!
And oh, how I am late with my answer. I thought I may not find the right words and still I don’t. Painful are some memories, I know! But you create beauty from them! That’s wonderful and I can only carry on to encourage you! A lot of great art has come out of great pain. Though of course I wish that your writing may only be created out of pure joy!
Well, it is strange because three of my closer (girl) friends just had broken bones right after the lockdown. And guess what: They all share one age: 52! One is running a heardressers shop on her own and just as she was alowed to open her shop again she thought is was a good idea to go roller skating. She had her right arm broken and only survived with facebook funding from her friends.
The other is a professional flamenco dancer/teacher. While she had to close down all her courses and find ways to teach with video classes and zoom she thought it was a good idea to go hiking and jumped over a plant. She broke her foot and had to teach with a cast after lockdown. And had to cancel her much needed shows. The last one slipped while going on a walk and broke her right wrist like you did.
And no, they don’t make casts like you had one anymore … I didn’t want to mention it to not enlarge your misery.
You may have missed some activities in Summer but I know you love Autumn! So please look forward to that beloved season in Provence and go ahead writing. Write about the beauty of Autumn. And yes, you have beauty outside and inside. Beauty and strength! Don’t forget that your beauty is unique!
Yes. We all do my friend. I am so glad that you and your loved ones were safe from Ida. xo
What a perfectly perfect David Terry comment! I could see it all…
Thank you Rose.
Even though it seems to be ending nearly as quickly as it was found! 😉
It is the little things…
It is getting there! It still hurts at the end of the day but with time…
Thank you so much my wise friend for this perspective. It is so appreciated – as are you!
That was so beautiful heather. I am happy to hear your cast is off but sorry to hear you have been hurt by forceful words. Having been guilty of some forceful words myself sometimes, I just wanted to say that, although they are unforgivable, they usually come from a place of hurt and fear. I hope you find the strength to move one and let the words blow away on the wings of the next mistral.
A beautiful post to help carry all of us through these challenging times. Thanks, Heather! So glad your wrist is back in business!
Beautiful Heather and so evocative of the pain and small pleasures of this Summer such as your gelato on the steps.
That’s so beautiful Heather. Hooray for the summer you were able to find.♥️???☀️
Beautiful – very poetic.
Dear Heather,
Well, what a genuinely touching posting. Thank you.
I’ve been mostly-off the internet since April and, so, have missed out on a lot of news, it seems, So, you broke your wrist? Ugh. I broke one of mine (badly) at age fourteen; two weeks later, I broke the other one. So, I ended up wandering around all Summer with two casts on….for I don’t recall how long. Since my two major pastimes at that age were practicing the piano and playing tennis, it was a very long and EXTREMELY boring Summer. Having never watched much television at all, I found myself watching daytime tv for hours at a stretch…..which is how I discovered the new soap-opera “The Young and The Restless” and its star, David Hasselhoff (yup….The Hoff”, in his pre “Knight Rider” days…1974). My remarkably intuitive mother claims that he was my first gay crush, since I chattered pretty endlessly (and all-too obviously without any self-consciousness) about him, in front of my father and my two REALLY uninterested brothers, at the dinner table. And look at me now, 46 years later. I suppose we can blame it all on two broken wrists and The Hoff’s irresistible magnetism.
Well, enough of this. Thanks again for the obviously evocative posting. Sincerely, david terry
So beautiful, Heather. I am writing this from a very wet Brooklyn, NY, where some have lost power and subway service has been impacted. And yet, we are all okay. Thank you for ending with hope and sunshine. We all need a strong dose of that. Sending love.