Journey Alone Now

I thought I was going to have
A partner on this journey with me

Someone who would
Compliment me
Be the in to my out
The day to my night

But it didn't seem
Like that's going to happen
We're too far apart
Hard to get back to each other

I tried
I think you tried
There were sessions
And self-help books

Thoughts that if we stayed together
One more month, year
It would work
Still

In the end
We both said
I love you, I'm sorry
Cried and hugged

Beach Day #4

Soft sand in places
I never thought it could be
Fine grains, I imagine
That I'm laying on gold

The sand molds to
All bodies
My body
My imprint

Sand in a box
Sand at a beach
Sand at an arts and crafts store
To be sold

As I walk back
The sand turns dry and gritty
On the pads of my feet
And blue, cheap flip flops

Space

Okay, okay – I will say it right away, I don’t mean space, like in Star Trek. That’s for another blog. I mean space, like the aisle airplane seat I gave up, when I was asked by an attendant coming back from Minneapolis to Chicago. After paying an extra $10 for a selected aisle seat, we were almost on our way, when I had a feeling that something was up, since an attendant was standing near me. The universe humbled me, after I thought – “Wow, you’re going to have extra room with no one beside you!”

Then she asked, “Would you mind scooting over. We have a situation.” A situation? What situation? “Is there another aisle seat I could have?” I asked. “Yes, but a few rows back,” she said. “Oh, nevermind, as I scooted over.” Her co-worker could tell I wasn’t too happy, and she brought me a bottled water and said, “Thank you for being so kind.”

Another gentleman then came down and sat in my seat. But was it my seat?

Sure, I paid for it. I expected it. I wanted an aisle. Ridiculous thoughts entered my head, such as – what if we crash, and the aisle sit lives, and the middle seated person dies? Or, this is a sign? Or, random reasons about the “situation.” Was it race related? Religious? I hadn’t heard of a fight. Why didn’t the guy move back to the further back aisle seat?

The only saving grace was the idea that I was a “kind” person. Good karma, I thought. Good karma. And, it’s okay if you don’t know about the situation. Trust the expert that it was needed.

I then took a few deep breathes and let it go.

Lost Years

I lost ten years of my life
Not sure where they went

Under my bed
Tucked in a pair of pants

I didn't think I cared
Until later

When I realized I was older
But felt younger than my age

I functioned
But I wasn't really
Alive

A Visit to Minnesota's History Museum

While visiting a friend in the Twin Cities, I looked to see what interesting there was to do. While this was not a “free” event as I had hoped (as a struggling student), I did think it worthwhile to check out the “WE ARE HMONG” exhibit at the St. Paul History Museum. My friend had not been to this museum, so it was a “win-win” for both of us. I had known that there was a large Hmong population in Minnesota, but embarrassingly, I really didn’t know a lot about the community and culture.

After parking, we walked into a fairly large, stone building. It seemed new, but we later learned it was built in 1995. We entered the extra large, glass doors. Sunlight filled the entryway, which we welcomed, since yesterday was cool and overcast.

With my student ID ready, my friend paid my admission and we got our typical metal, museum clip-on button. “Where is the Hmong exhibit?” I asked the staff person. We proceeded to the elevators and to the second floor.

Rainy Day

The rain comes
Like kitten paw feet
Pouring, not purring
Down on you

Unprepared without an umbrella
I try and wield myself
In and out
And around

Waiting inside
Going outside
The rain comes and goes
I dont buy an umbrella

I have five at home
I'll just wait it out

The eL is a short jog
Away I can make it

I enter down the stairs
Like I've reached the finishing line
Of a marathon race

Relieved,  tired.

Oh, Minn-uh-soh-tah

I'm visiting a friend in the Twin Cities. I hadn't visited for a few years. Things had definitely changed. First,  there's the light rail. There's different colors and everything. Then, there's clearly greater diversity.  I saw this in Target. Both in employees and in customers,  it was clear that there are new communities in this area.

I knew from other folks that the Hmong community had significantly increased. But,  I could also tell African and Muslims,  too.

My friend and I talked a little bit about this change. I wondered how folks were handing it. Social service agencies,  school systems,  etc. How did the "Minnesota nice" come into play?