"Poison"

Inside   

           buried under smiles   

                     as innocent as childhood   

           hidden by energy   

                     that eats the inner core   

           enveloped with laughter   

                     tinged by hysteria   

           where no one can see, or touch, or feel   

                     the infinite coldness   

Waiting   

           surrounded by darkness   

                     like a corpse in the grave   

           clamped down by a vise   

                     whose claws rip and tear   

           forced into submission   

                     until no one’s looking   

           deep down in the well of pitch, and stagnation, and fear   

                     the infinite coldness   

Outside   

           revealed at last in the eyes   

                     through condemnation and indignation   

           recognized by the putrid stench   

                     of pettiness and intolerance   

           exposed in each word and act   

                     through acid hatred   

           an eruption of vomitus bile—black and caustic   

                     the infinite coldness   

   

Copyright 1997 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

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"Reset"

Paul and Mom July 1992

            Our cabin near Leakey, Texas rests within a remote area where the hills cup around, making cellphones unusable once we turn off of FM 337 onto Rim Rock Road. My parents purchased the land over thirty years ago, long before cell phones existed, when they were about the same age as we are now. I remember lecturing them to wait until we arrived before they unloaded the supplies from one of the many projects we tackled together during those first years. Without fail, they ignored my warnings. We’d pull up to find they’d maneuvered plywood out of the truck bed on their own. Dad often quipped that they weren’t invalids!

Mom and Dad July 1992

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David and Dad July 1992

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Finished porch-July 1992

            After Dad died, spending a weekend at the cabin tumbled all of us into grief. We attempted a few trips with Mom, but she cried each time. Once she said, “I see the ghosts of who we were walking outside.” By that time, Huntington’s disease had her wheelchair bound. She’d last a few hours, and then ask for us to bring her home. Once Mom died, we made a few trips up alone where we made a few necessary repairs, cut down a few ever-intrusive cedars, and down-shifted our visit to nights of board games or stargazing. About six years ago, our Escape Hybrid needed extensive and expensive repairs. Because of its age and mileage, we found ourselves purchasing a car that couldn’t handle the rough Rim Rock Road terrain. David’s parents and siblings assured us that we could exchange our car with either their SUV or truck whenever we wanted to make a trip; but in the usual manipulative dance of narcissists, their offer proved shallow.

            For three years, the cabin remained untouched. Last May, David’s cousin and her husband took us up for a weekend. Someone had broken into the place and tossed things around searching for valuables that didn’t exist. This same cousin took me back last November for another quick visual check. Each short view left me determined to get a new SUV, which we did at the end of December.

            This weekend we carefully examined some areas of wood rot in the screened porch area. We tossed around ideas of making the repairs ourselves, but I know that’s unrealistic. We debated over the possibility of taking the area down and just having a huge deck. We discussed finding a local company to hire to do the repairs. At the moment, the damaged area doesn’t hold the danger of falling in on us. We have time to decide the best course. In the back of my mind, I hear my own voice warning my parents, “Wait until we get there. Don’t do anything stupid!”

Our hidden driveway January 29, 2022

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  One task accomplished! January 29, 2022

            That past caution reminded us to limit our visit to one major task. David focused on cutting the knee-high grass that covered the driveway and cleared some cedar. I relined the driveway with rocks.

            Both of us used the sunshine and hard labor to step back and away from work and world. We hit “reset” to return home recharged and ready.

 Copyright 2022 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

  

“As It Should”

July 2025

Heading out this morning to document the impact on last night’s continual rainfall, my memory dipped back onto a different July deluge that flooded homes of friends and family. That time, the highway construction nearby added debris that dammed huge parts of the drainage ditches designed to take unexpected, heavy rain.

This morning’s walk by those same areas showed everything working as planned. Further into the park, sections normally dry pooled with new swimming areas for our ducks. Some parts, normally sidewalks accessing the lake for fishing, sat submerged. I left feeling confident that all of the predicted weather for the rest of this week will spread out toward the wide banks and lower areas surrounding the park, with the lake, parched from previous droughts, absorbing most of the water. 

Everything going as it should.

2025 debris

Copyright 2026 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“Three Steps Back”

Summertime adventures abound with friends and family. Our household, though, moves into a different direction as car troubles, air conditioner woes, and plumbing disasters syphon away time, energy and money. This triple blow twenty years ago would’ve battered us into despair. 

Age and experience now shield us.

Been there. 

Done that. 

Phrases that reassure because it isn’t the end of the world as we know it. It’s simply stepping back into a zone we’ve visited many times.

We cope by shifting to small indulgences for the rest of the summer until we regain our footing and can step ahead again. 

One small indulgence. Mini-roses!

Copyright 2026 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

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"Greek Teas"

   

            When we lived in Dover, Delaware, Mom and her friends gathered most mornings for coffee and gossip. Each woman served from lovely china sets that included coffee pots that matched their cups and saucers. Mrs. Hurley, who was born and raised in Wales, always steeped a cup of tea for me. Her hospitality warmed my five-year-old soul as much as the savory brews.

            By the time I was nine, my mother purchased all kinds of teas for me to try. Her favorite, Constant Comment, always resided in the pantry. Sometimes she prepared a black tea as dark as coffee and laced with milk and sugar. She picked up different mint teas and green teas that stayed light with gentle flavors. My love of teapots sprouted when we moved to Illinois and became entwined with my passion for tisanes.

            My delight with teas and teapots makes me an easy person to shop for when it comes to my birthdays, Christmases or anniversaries. Finding teas from other countries to bring to me became a quest for my husband and son. The internet and Amazon opened up a plethora of options with them researching the health benefits of various infusions. Their passion for all things Greek led them to discover their most recent gift to me: Greek Mountain Tea, Diktamos, and a Greek herbal cocktail of Marjoram, Sage and Diktamos. These ancient teas medicinal benefits include relieving respiratory infections, easing stomach and digestive problems, and lessening rheumatism. If you want antioxidants, just steep a cup each day. They’ve become a family favorite already.

Copyright 2022 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman