Things of Life

     The orchid by the kitchen sink was limp, and its leaves were heavily wrinkled. The flower was dying. Nothing had worked: spraying, watering, sun, or shade. But I could not give up on it-- my first ever orchid in a pot...      In Florida's wild, orchids cling on trees. Knowing it, I took the flower outside to give it a last try. I fastened its roots on a small palm tree near my door, in a place where the sprinkle was reaching generously, and the tree's canopy was giving it proper shade. Soon after, I forgot about it...      One day I had a sudden recollection, and went to check on the orchid. Amazing... The flower had hugged and hugged the tree with its roots, even longer and ferm. My little clips used to keep the plant in place were no longer needed because the roots were fierily stuck in between the protrusions of  the tree trunk, as if they were part of it. The leaves bore no sign of wrinkles, and a long stem had grown from under ...

     "Are you Gypsy?"      The woman at the desk was fixating me with some sort of excitement after I mentioned my country of origin, at her request. Perhaps my very long hair at the time, loose over the shoulders, and my general informal look, combined with her newly acquired knowledge about my birth place, reminded her of romanticized images of Gypsy women.       "No...," I replied, feeling that I was about to disappoint.       Afterwards, the routine counseling at the school I was attending, transformed itself in a conversation about Gypsies. I tried my best to offer her a realistic image about this peculiar group of people as far as I was familiar with it from my native country.      But that was before I came to know that I may have Gypsy blood in my veins, indeed. It was later in life when it was revealed to me that my paternal grandmother was an adopted child, and rumor went that her biological f...

     In my fugitive journey through here, I pondered a bit on the way time perception shifts our views. We always seem to wonder what is going to happen next, or when this or that may come to be. Some things  appear harder to achieve, but if we set a generous amount of time, they become more tangible. In a huge length of time things may float neurotically,  and we might be overwhelmed and numbed; but we relax eventually at the notion that in such time the probability for them becoming reality is higher, even though we still have no clue about how would that be. For the sake of time, perhaps, we are more inclined to  accept as possibility even a strange scenario from deep past.       When I was in my early 20s, I often questioned my own life-- where was I going to be, when was I going to get married (a big one), if I would ever have kids, if I would ever see such and such place, and so on. If I would have assessed the coming year, or two,...

The heart is opened to each as a potential friend, Ready to talk as if there is no time... soul to soul, no walls. Kids have to wait because there are others around; She does not carry the burden of unforgiveness, or bitter feelings That would make the eyes look them in askance, And pass quickly, and hide to hate. Glossy lake is the heart now, with a boat on it, no monsters lurking, A garden with trees and a stream,  a picnic basket near by, Have a seat  here... we are all different,  but not too different...