"The Best Nap"

 

Malahide Castle

Dublin bound for half a day   

with seats in the upright position   

fitfully dozing during the long flight   

as snatches of movies weave into my dreams   

maneuvering through city streets    

in search of Malahide Castle—our first stop in enchantment   

the cobwebs of travel puff away       

catch on the gossamer of history       

we walk hand-in-hand from parlor to pantry       

forgetting our fatigue as we meander through gardens   

we linger, lusting for greener pastures   

hunger nudges us to homemade bread and thick potato soup   

--Clontarf Castle’s soft beds lure us upstairs   

hot showers, cool linens blend with child play   

we stretch on pristine sheets and tumble into perfect slumber   

sleep embraces us soothingly as we spoon together   

glass tinkling, or pixie laughter?   

the voices of Ireland lull us into serenity   

Clontarf Castle

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"A Quick Walk"

 

The temperature dropped last night for the second night in a row. I haven’t checked with the news yet on how “low” we dipped, but this morning’s breeze didn’t slap me in the face with humidity. When David suggested that we take Mom out for a quick walk to the park, I jumped at the idea.

            The moment I pulled out my Skechers, Koi started yipping while Bridget picked up her own momentum by jumping on and off the bed, nudging me with excited joy. David put socks and shoes on Mom while I gathered together her foot rests for the wheelchair, one of her sporty hats she likes to wear outside, and bottled water for all of us. We stalled trying to get out the door because the dogs’ tornado-enthusiasm tangled harnesses and leads.

            “And they’re off! I exclaimed as the dogs bolted across the yard, towing David as though he weighed nothing. I maneuvered Mom over to the driveway, following David and dogs at a more sedate pace. Mom and I wished a walk could become part of our daily routine (sans dogs) once reasonable temperatures return to our area.

            Live Oak Park bustled with energy—relay teams running through the back trails, parents pushing strollers, children mastering new bicycles, families staking out picnic areas. Mom and I saluted every jogger and walker as we wandered our way up to the top of the park where we rendezvoused with David, Bridget and Koi.

            “Do you want to loop around the lake?” I asked Mom, not certain if the mile walk tired her. When she nodded affirmative, we zigzagged down the ramps to loop over to our rain thirsty lake. We paused to mourn the lily pads and wondered if the fish survived by retreating to the depths of the lake’s center. Then we began to retrace our steps.

            We ambled on the journey home. The dogs, tongues scraping the pavement, walked with the demure pacing of the best trained dogs. My legs, screaming from pushing Mom and the wheelchair uphill the entire way home, couldn’t muster a faster clip. By the time we walked up the front door ramp, our hike had turned into a forty minute excursion. Mom quickly kicked off her shoes and tossed her hat aside, David hustled to pour us cold glasses of juice, and both dogs sprawled on the floor, looking more dead than alive. As for me? I’m can’t wait for our next quick walk.  

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“Cuddling Under the Covers”

         During the night cooler air swirled into the house though the open windows. It fingered our faces gently and tickled our toes. It lured the dogs from the floor to the foot of the bed. As the temperature continued to drop, the dogs searched for warmth. Koi, with his thick white coat, sandwiched himself between me and David, flipping onto his back. I suppose he enjoyed the contrast of the cool air that pat his stomach to the body heat we provided. Short-haired Bridget dove under the covers. Nose first, she scooted under both sheets and comforter where she u-turned, slid up my side, and ended up resting her head on my pillow. Her sleek black body pressed against my back like a live heating pad.

         I burrowed under the blankets, spooning closer to David for warmth. In that hazy zone between sleep and wakefulness, I turned the dance of the wind chimes outside our window into a symphony of notes. Slumber pulled me deeper under the covers, cuddling with me against the cold. I resisted the alarm’s irritation and curved into Koi and David for one more minute of sleep. Finally, I dragged myself away when my mother called out from the other room to request her “first” breakfast. As I sit and write, I feel envious of Bridget, who lingers under the covers still.

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman