My Cup

I am an empty cup.
Love is what should fill me up.
I should be filled to the brim,
yet I sit in darkness, feeling grim.

 I learned early on,
to give the love that pushes on.
Sadly, as not enough was returned to me,
I feel alone and empty.

I give my love to all I know.
I give my love the way of a rivers flow.
I give my love out freely.
never does it return to fill me.

There are those who care,
and of who’s love I share.
Alas I never learned the skill,
of letting my cup fill.

Love surrounds me, like a cork afloat,
I bob upon it like a boat,
I see the love that is meant to be,
I wish I knew how to let it return to me.

To love unconditionally is a skill,
one that causes cups to fill,
to be loved this way is quite a gift,
one that can cause a shift.

To learn to let love fill your cup,
that is the skill that brings you up.
Though this skill is lost to me,
I have faith that I will someday be,
able to let love fill my soul,
 like warm milk in a bowl.

I want to feel complete,
alas this goal I cannot meet.
For I was never shown,
and now that I am grown,
it is difficult to learn,
no matter how I yearn,

I wish, I wish to let it in,
Give me strength, beyond what’s been.

Let me feel a trickle, a drip, a drop or two.
Let me know true loves dew. 

Let it dribble in my heart,
and saturate my every part.

I know you’re out there pouring love into me,
When I look I can see,
But to feel, to trust true loves flow,
that is what would let me grow.

Please do not give up on me,
I will learn to let it be,
to trust again, though it’s hard,
to heal where I am scarred.

I love to love, its plain to see,
Why is it so hard to let it seep into me?

STU 11/2010

Crushed

It was early in the morning when I set out to fulfill the days dream.  I  had one thing in mind, making my dad happy .  I was in the kitchen, the place where day after day I heard the dreaded words "S#$%, S#$% on a stick.  I work all day long and when I leave in the morning the kitchen is clean and when I come home this, S@#"  he sound is awful, but nothing compares to the look on his face when he is screaming this wildly.  The guilt and shame that are meant to be conveyed are efficiently transferred to me.  But today will be different, today he will come home and the kitchen will sparkle like it has never sparkled before. 

I started with he shelf above the cupboards, it was dusty and held many knickknacks that also needed washing or dusting.  Carefully I took everything down, dusted the shelf and replaced the items one by one neatly , after having cleaned them off.  I could see the gleam in my fathers eye when he noticed how amazing it looked. 

Satisfied with the cupboard top I moved to the cupboards themselves wiping any trace of dust from the surfaces.  The hood of the stove was famous for getting oily, so I washed it off carefully too.  I repeated the careful removal and replacing of items from on top of the fridge, the place was starting to shine, I had already spent hours in my endeavor but oh boy was it going to be worth it, what would it be like to have a loving father not an angry one?  I was sure to find out. 

The dishes were next wash dried and the dishwasher emptied, every surface of the counter and stove shone as I had never seen the surfaces gleam like this, the kind of gleam like a little boy wants to see in his fathers eye when the look at each other.  Oh boy this was going to be a special night, a night to remember.

The table was cleared, and set, this took a bit of work as I had baked a fresh loaf of bread while cleaning the kitchen, punching down the loaf as the day wore on, baking it and placing it on the table for all to see.  The house was permeated with the smell of a bakery, this added to the experience that was going to be spectacular.

The floors swept and mopped I retired to the living room to watch what was left of my Saturday TV, having already given up on my morning cartoons.  I waited in eager anticipation for the unveiling of my masterpiece, to show my father what I had done just for him.  I heard the gravel crunch and saw the lights of his car coming down the driveway, and I jumped up and ran to the kitchen, standing there waiting as he walked up the steps.

You can only imagine the joy that was in my heart, a little boy striving for his dad attention, and today I was going to get it. 

The door opened and "S%#$, S%#$ on a STICK, who tracked mud on my carpet?",

My heart sank, my day wasted, my love never to be found.  I ran from the kitchen into my room, with tears streaming from my eyes.   A boy not rewarded, but crushed.   My father came to try to figure out what had happened, but it was too late, his appreciation of my work was not enough anymore.  It seems that no matter what you do it just not good enough.

My grandpa died just a moment ago
Above my head a great oak clock sits and ticks
Down my cheeks dampness begins to flow
The postman wanders up our front walk bricks

My grandpa died just last week
The school bus stops at our block
My life seems listless, dull and meek
The sounds of children as they play and talk

My grandpa Died one year ago, today
The crowd cheers as the batter swings, it’s a hit
My sweet memories have gone astray
The ball rolls down and knocks over an impossible split

And then it becomes so clear, so plain to see
As long as I remember him, he will always be with me

-STU-

In loving memory of my grandpa, Cas you will always live on in me.

Wind in my Hair

I was standing there, leaning on the railing, the boat was slowly picking up speed. I could feel the chill wind prickle on my neck. I cast my eyes westward, the sky was alive with color, the clouds reflecting the red-orange glow casting rays down into the water which mirrors the sky as if it houses a world below the waves. I took a deep breath of fresh mountain air, feeling the cool air deep inside my lungs. I push gently on my coats zipper, sealing in the warmth of my body. Casting my gaze aside and slowly back to the deck, I see her walking towards me, I feel a sensation of excitement race through my body. I pull my hands out of my warm pockets and reach out, walking towards her closing the gap. I feel the warmth of her breath on my cheek as we pull each other close, squeezing her tightly I sway slightly with the warmth of her embrace.

STU - 10/22/2008.

Neglected

It was early morning about 8:00 am; John was in the passenger seat of his fathers red Pinto station wagon. He was dressed in his white pants with blue stripes, leggings and a blue hat matching his shirt with the number 7 right in the middle. Holding his mitt in his lap and chatting about, well about anything and everything. If it was one thing John could do it was chat. His father pulled into the baseball park and pulled up next to the other cars, cars that had been there since 7:30am the time John's baseball team was supposed to arrive to warm up for the game. "Can you stay and watch dad", John asked, knowing well the answer that would follow. "No son, I have some business to attend to this morning, page me when the game is over." John Trotted over to join his team. He watched his dad drive off as he was rounding the field for his first lap of the 10 he was running to pay of his debt for being late.

The game went as they always went for John, sitting out most of the game, wishing he could be somewhere else, wonder what he could do to make his father proud of him, to make him really stand up and take notice. When he finally played it was right field, the position of least impact for the team. John was up twice, this was an especially lucky day for him, because he got hit with the second pitch, he was on base one less strike out for the season. One less time he had to see the disgusted look of his teammates as he turned dejected from the plate after swinging for the third time with no connection on the ball. The game ended, the score was not important; he had suffered through another game and would soon be back with his father.

John went to the phone booth and paged his dad, he hung around the booth for a while waiting for the return call, it was not unusual for this to take some time today was no exception, an hour or so after he had called his father finally returned the call. "Things are crazy today son, I will come and get you as soon as I can", his father said. John went off to play for a while, swinging on the swings, jumping on the big tractor tires that were filled with standing water from the rains a few days before. His friends came and went each in turn arriving prior to their games, practicing, playing and being picked up. John paged his father a few more times, but received the same empty promise "I will be there as soon as I can". The funny thing is John never stopped believing this, he knew his father loved him, his work was important for the family and necessary if the family was to maintain their current lifestyle. Sometimes just knowing things is enough; this is not one of those times. John sat inside of the big tractor tire and wondered what he could do to make his dad sit up and notice him, to be so proud that just once he could come first.

It was dark when the last car pulled out of the park, leaving John alone. John had just paged his dad, and was waiting for his return call. He was huddled by the only light left shining the 'Phone' sign above his only connection with the world. Tossing his ball high into the darkness and trying to catch it upon its earthly return John cried lightly, muttering to himself, if only I could do the right thing to make him notice me. Alone, frightened, cold and hungry John finally saw the sight his eyes had longed for, the pinto returning. "Hi son" His father said, "How are you". "I am fine Dad", he said aloud, while thinking to himself "I am fine now Dad, now that you are here."

STU – October 2008

Dear Grandfather

Dear Grandfather,

I hope this letter finds you well. A certain sequence of events has recently brought my attention to details of our relationship that have until now been obfuscated. I would have liked to have seen you more often over the years; it would have brought us closer together. I may have been able to recognize certain things before. I have always felt a certain desire to aspire to great things in life, t rise above any and all roadblocks that stand in my way. I have been inspired by you to succeed despite challenges that stand in my way; I remember hearing stories of how you came to favor one leg over the other. I remember them as thus: You fell out of a truck as a youth and were told you were to never hope to walk again, working against all odds you strengthened your ailing limb by pushing yourself in a wagon, using your bum leg. I always new a walking Grandfather; one who owned a beautiful house in an orange orchard near the Pacific coast.

I remember playing the piano (or rather playing with the piano) in your home; I played songs that made me think of weather, mainly storms. The rumble of that piano, still courses through my bones, the music I hear now, though the same as then, sounds so much more beautiful to my ears. I used to play, back then, with a certain tuning fork. I had no idea what the purpose of this sweet sounding instrument was, but I do know now. The time that we did enjoy together was very special, I remember impatiently awaiting seeing you. I remember a grandfather who always wore a business jacket, I have a certain respect for blazers and often wear one now. I loved the accent that you carried with you from the east coast, the way you said my name will ring forever in my ears when I think of you.

On my last visit with you we had the opportunity to dine together, you were not a nimble young man any more. Your mind often drifted, you would sit and look around as if uncomfortable in the environment. Then the conversation would drift to times gone by, back at the water company with your colleagues. Your face would light up as you remembered great stories of yesterday. This same effect was present when you talked of family history, like when you showed me a painting of a ship in your living room, this was a painting of a ship that one of our ancestors sailed on. We had a terrific conversation on the way to dinner, just the two of us for the drive. I described to you all of the adventures and activities related to the raising of my children, you were very eager to hear all that I could tell.

When I remember you I will always think of certain things:

- Red Wine, “89 years old and this is my only medicine” you would say (thought the year would change).
- The Piano in your house, and the tuning fork as well, I played as much as I could when I was there.
- Your smile, the one you would give me when you said hello after a long absence.
- Your voice, the sound of your accented words ring like music in my heart.
- The way you addressed letters to me, Master John Stuart and the thought that they conveyed.
- The orange orchard, what a beautiful view.
- Walking around you neighborhood, I think there are houses where we used to walk, I remember looking for fossils.
- I remember getting a tour of the data center where you worked, this was likely my start to my career today.

Granddad, you are someone very special and influential in my life, I will hold you in my heart forever.

STU - 2004

Carousel

The smallest glance at him caused an uncontrollable depression, not a deep depression like you would feel if you lost someone dear to you but more like the feeling you get when you find yourself alone in a restaurant waiting for you friends or family to arrive. He stood there in line with a crowd of small children some with parents all excited to be on the next turn of the carrousel. He was probably in his early fifties, smartly dressed, well groomed and unmistakably alone. Standing in line with my own children I found myself compelled to figure out the motivation of this solitary man. As the horses slowed to a halt and the rush of happy children passed through the exit followed by the few stragglers that were ushered out by the two teenaged ride coordinators, we were given permission to mount the horses. I assisted my daughters to the horses of their choosing and watched the lonely man mount a horse near the outside of the platform. As the uplifting music began and the platform started to move the ponies started bouncing up and down and the sounds of joyous children filled the air, I stole a glance or was it a stare at the gentleman he slowly reached out without the slightest of emotion and grabbed at a small metal ring that was being dispensed, the rings were part of the thrill of the ride a rider who was mounted on the outside of the horse could grab a ring and toss it at a large clown face, if the rider was skilled enough he/she would be rewarded with a bright light on the clowns nose and a bell ringing. The man was skilled and I watched as his ring soared through the air flying right into the clown’s mouth causing the bell to ring and the nose to light up. He then slowly without emotion reached his hand up and waited a full revolution for his turn at another ring. I rode the carousel several times that day with my daughters and each time I saw the man riding alone grabbing the rings and tossing them. A few days later we returned for another day, but the man was not there, why was he there, and then all at once I picked up both of my daughters and hugged them dearly and though they have no idea why, I asked them never to let me ride the carousel alone.



STU - 2003