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Fun with Time and Space

I wake at 4am but stay in the warmth of bed, drafting poems in my head.

I stitch together words about the palpable silence, enfolding me like velvet.

Craft prose about my nine-year old’s ability to now use tweezers on his own.

I sift in the warmth of jersey sheets, the soft pillow under my head, the scent of aloe soap on the Bohemian’s bare skin next to me. I do not want to leave this bed to write. I’d like to languor here, right now.

And so I do, until I drift back to dreams, sleeping in til sunrise.

Since I’m on vacation this week, I’ll allow myself to drop kick my writing discipline.

Take a morning hike with Jeb and Moodha the dog instead. We wander through damp guava groves and forests of norfolk pines. As we walk, he’ll occasionally pose a question toward the future afternoon.

“Can we watch a movie when we get home?”

“Right now we’re in the guavas with Moodah. Let’s be here for now.”

Jeb offers good reminders.

Funny, this time/space thing. The here and now.

Right now in this moment, I post forest photos from the past, intended for your viewing in the future. Go figure.

Wherever you find yourself on the continuum, I hope you are enjoying your present.
2013-07-16redleafonmoss 2013-07-16boydogforest 201307-16mirrordroplet 2013-7-16hauflower

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 4 Comments

Delicate

It’s the contrasts here that interest me.

The glass bottle – an item so delicate – washed ashore, completely intact, though corroded with some sort of calcified salt shell. Through all those years afloat at sea, it hardened and matched its surrounding elements.

The orchid, even more dainty. Could it even survive one day on the ocean? The pristine blossoms of white curve, and hide just a bit, in shadow. A smudge of dirt on one petal. Proof of its origins. Making it real. A blast of blooms that’s been flowering strong for weeks.

There’s no message in the bottle, but I know it’s got a story. Something to do with time. Fortitude. Fate.

2013-03-11bottle

2013-03-11orchid

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Card Games, Prophesies and Sunday Afternoons

Before 9am, Jeb has taken me to a beach I’ve never been to in all of my 15 years on the island. Nothing like letting the next generation lead the way.Jessica Dofflemyer - all rights reserved

It’s an interesting Sunday. We pass through manicured lawns to remote coves. Talk about the Mayan prophesies of 2012 (kids at school are telling Jeb he’ll die in 3 months from a great flood).

Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reservedTake recycling to the transfer station.

Get home by 10:30 in time to go through a restore process on my iPhone while Jeb deals a game of Uno. It seems the magic carpet has now become host to family card games.

I’ve got a load of laundry in the washer and some dishes in the sink.

Jeb’s playing with our neighbor’s cat on the balcony, who has been dubbed “Agent 5” (a partner in some spy mission I am not privy to). Apparently, Agent 5 made a run for it, as Jeb describes some sort of typical, cat-like leap from great heights that landed Agent 5 deftly, but distant, from Jeb’s grasp.

iPhone says “sync is in progress” as Uno calls. Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved

To be honest, I’m taking a look at that bottle of Patron and wondering if a weekend cocktail may be in my future.

It’s Sunday, 2011. Jeb’s seven, going on eight. We’re home with no big plan.

I try to soak in this day at 11:22am. Sync is complete. Daily Chronicle, chronicled.

Time, space and Mayan calendars. Laundry, Uno and Agent 5. These days will never come again.

Love, love, love it.