"Pet Free"

                In recent months, I’ve fielded questions about getting another dog since Bridget’s death. Many people find it puzzling that our family moves toward the idea of becoming pet-free once Koi (now nine) dies. For so many friends and family members, loving an animal brings constancy and happiness into their daily routines. Pets bless them with unconditional, honest love. Their lives would be less without their dogs or cats (and other animals).

Brindle

            I can only talk about our own heartbreak each time a pet has died. Because we kept our cats indoors, they each lived over fifteen years. Paul’s dog, Dixie, reached fourteen years while Bridget died after her sixteenth year. We simply don’t think we can survive beginning a journey with another pet and survive the inevitable loss. Our Koi will be an only animal. Since someone’s frequently home, he seems to have adjusted to Bridget’s death. He’s a little ditzy, and I sometimes think he believes she’ll be back soon.

Dixie

            Once Koi’s gone, we’ll slip into a different life pattern. I know my heart will tug because no little dog anticipates my arrival, nor cats nonchalantly ignore my arrivals. I already miss the weight of Bridget on my feet, or Padme’s flicking tale blocking my access to the keyboard, or Sassy’s tender head butt. I don’t think I’ll ever miss the all-enveloping sorrow of their loss.

Copyright 2019 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

Sassy

Padme

Bridget

Kio

"Liar"

Full eye contact with head tilted “just so”

The words he speaks ring false and hollow

He moves his hand smoothly down her arm

Tries to blind her with his deceitful charm

His veneer appears glossy and smooth

He’s a trickster who distorts the truth

Through a phony wink and cocked eyebrows

He seduces with his empty vows

He manipulates her emotions

By conjuring deceptive notions

He craves her devotion on a whim

As her passion means nothing to him

He’s a con artist, a promoter

He’s barren inside—a pretender.

Copyright 2019 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Reproduction Rant"

         Not everyone should reproduce.

         There! I’ve said it!

        Somehow our religions and culture make having children a priority to such a degree that both sexes falsely believe that reproducing is their right instead of a privilege.

        I spend many hours frustrated by the arcane attitude that a person’s value to society stems from the number of offspring popped out during the reproductive years. No one cares about the emotional maturity of the parents. How is it logical to encourage an immature teen (one who wasn’t educated well enough NOT to get pregnant) to have and raise a child? I don’t know how many times my students would complain that they shouldered the responsibility of younger siblings because Mom had a date. Imagine young children not getting to go trick-or-treat on Halloween because Mama has a party she needs to attend instead! The instability of extremely young parents means they subject their children to frequent moves—from the grandparents, to a new boyfriend/girlfriend’s place, back to grandparents, over to the non-custodial parent—in and out of homes, apartments, cars . . . But hey! Parenthood gives them praise by society, family and friends. Once the “newness” of an infant or toddler runs dry, these young parents often decide to have another child. Their reasons range from “not wanting too many years between siblings” to “I think this new relationship will last if we have a baby together” to “I’m such a good mom/dad! See! I have kids to prove it!

          Religions love the theme of being fruitful and multiplying, and yet no one seems too concerned about the financial responsibilities parents shoulder when they decide to reproduce. Some people chant, “God will take care of it all,” and then their children don’t have enough food, medical care, or security.  I’ve often heard people say stupid things like, “If we waited to have kids until our finances were in order, we’d never have had kids.” My point exactly. Financial security makes a huge difference in the welfare of each child brought into the world. I don’t mean someone needs to have a high income to have children, but forming a family means more than just providing a lifetime investment for food, clothing, shelter, and education. It calls for parents to become secondary to the needs and wants of their children. It requires love and acceptance. It means nurturing the spirit and dignity of another human being—forever.

          Frankly, if you can’t do that, you should never have children. Our society and churches should support individuals and couples who are attuned to their inner core and know that parenting isn’t for them and give them praise and support instead of criticism and ostracism.

Copyright 2019 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Setting Goals"

Today’s “To Do” list:

1. promote blog, novel, and t-shirt designs

2. work full day with second graders (no lesson plans or instructions left, but other grade level teachers pulled rabbits out of their hats with plenty of activities for me)

3. run errands with husband and son

4. do both cardio and weights at the gym

5. grab dinner

6. write new blog post, promote t-shirt designs, and plug  novel

7.  fall into bed (in satisfied exhaustion)

Sometimes, I hate to think about what my life would be like if I’d never retired to care for Mom. I know The Golden Bracelet would only exist in the back of my mind. I don’t believe I would’ve started my blog, Swing in a Tree. The isolated role of caregiver forced me into a creative format to connect to the world around me. My recent foray into t-shirt design spawned from a desire to share my photography to a wider audience than my Facebook, Twitter, and blog followers. I want to experiment with another income that comes from my interests and talents instead of continuing to embed myself within the public educational system.

As I move into my sixties, having health problems appear inevitable. I’ve changed everything I eat during the last nine months. My energy levels soared! A few months ago, I added cardio and weights into my life again. I haven’t worked my exercise routine into a habit that I miss when I skip, but by this summer I may reach that goal.

For me, setting new goals means I’m continuing to grow and change. A constant worry that I always carry in the back of my mind is that I could still have Huntington’s disease. My mother’s late onset means I might possibly have a few years of being symptom free. I scrutinize every mood swing. I evaluate my fatigue at the end of a long work day. I fret if I sense myself dragging my feet about a new project or learning a new skill. These changes were Mom’s first: anxiety, mild depression, lethargy, loss of interest hobbies.

The challenges added into my life, and onto my “To Do” list, give me balance and hope.

Copyright 2019 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Deer in the Headlight"

            Defiantly, her eyes locked with mine. Not a ripple of concern in her stance or glance as she faced me while my heart shifted to a faster syncopation. My headlights mirrored from her pupils for a second before she dismissed me. Casually, she crossed the road with the confidence that no harm would befall her.

            My foot, stamped to the brake, eased off to crawl my car forward. The predawn shadows complicated my search of the path from which the doe had unexpectedly emerged. No fawns follower her, and I cruised up to 20 MPH.

            As I rounded the corner, our small neighborhood herd waited in edgy anticipation by its morning feeding spot. Daily, an elderly retired man dumped buckets of dried corn from the back of his pickup truck. In long ago conversation, he’d told me that he needed to know someone counted on him being somewhere each day. With his wife’s death, his retirement had turned to unexpected loneliness that he filled by caring for these deer. This morning five deer awaited his arrival.

            My thoughts drifted from the doe to an old man’s loneliness as I edged onward into my day.

Copyright 2019 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Laundry"

one pile expands in the bedroom

a second blocks the hallway’s path

a third’s stuffed into a hamper

another explodes in our bath

mutating exponentially

as every day passes by

an alien infiltration

makes all our clothing multiply

on Saturday mornings I climb

over mountainous stinky stacks

by shifting and swiftly sorting

they yield to my vicious attacks

whites swirl into boiling water

while colors churn in icy cold

then they tumble in fluffy air

once dried, each gets a tidy fold

the end of a tedious day

finds every item in its place

fatigue anchors me to the couch

where I know I’ve won the race

 . . . until next week!

Copyright 2019 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman 

“Positive Energy”

                Technology brings us possibilities. I sit at a keyboard, blank page before me, and write down my thoughts and beliefs knowing that I will transmit my ideas around the world with one click. What will I say? Who will I reach? What impact will I have?

                The wall technology builds between us allows invisibility. Through this anonymous distance, I can wound. I can easily divide humanity into otherness. Will I denigrate? Put down and pull apart? Can I spew out cruelty? Chip away and minimize the hopes and dreams of another?     

                Or will I stay true to my inner core? Can I thrive by crafting kindness? Can I blossom because I grow towards gentleness and grace? Every day I deliberately decide to nurture and nourish. I hone down my words to a spiritual force of positive

energy.

 Copyright 2019 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman