i'm not really here

Epictetus was right.
AUGUST 3, 2010 6:58AM

the end of summer

Rate: 33 Flag

there, crowned by a westering sun, my daughter plays a baseball of sorts, a small retinue of uncles her private court, half excited about this, half afraid to let go

there, a malachite playground kept by the sheer will of a man who reminds me of Tom Bombadil, thunderous and genial and overwhelming, a gift of love he has achieved ignoring the indolence of others who’d rather do only what is necessary and not what is wondrous

there, the trees hide us from the heat, the breeze plays in our hair and clothes and though we are dressed up, we do not care

there, old and young sit and cheer on verdant seats a homegrown version of baseball, a game to soothe my oldest who wanted to play and does not understand that sometimes we are all tired and have had too much food and too much cake, and would rather sit and gossip, but they play because he is special, because he has asked and no one wants to see him cry

because he is loved

there, encased by a bower of beryl and silver and dying citrine, a fake lutescent ocean of listless waves reminds me of songs in French that whisper of others things

there, I laugh and take photographs, sharing a smile with my husband, I seek eternity in pixels

there, we eat guavas stolen from abandoned backyards and I am probably the only one who remembers that guavas are the Taíno fruit of the dead

 it is the end of summer

in this place where summer lasts forever, where the coruscated membrane of heat is constant and rain is fickle and aquamarine, the word is simply an ill-used noun, the defining of a moment in time and not a season, the passing of a holiday, the going  back to chores

a moment when the ties to black boxes of patented plastic is only for pleasure, for creating and nothing more, a moment when time ebbs and flows like a beclouded sea

now it leaps and flies

and I need it to slow down

I need it to breathe

my children are growing up

 most days that gives me a sense of relief, that things will get easier.  but last night it reminded me that it is happening too fast and one day life will cease to be

in this place, my words are barefoot and my voice like clothes thrown around in haste, away to run to the solace of the shore, away from the sand blistering feet

© Vanessa Seijo 2010

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Just stunning. I was going to say that it all magnificently turns on the guava, but that's not really true, for you have hints in the stanza (if I may call it that) before, as you seek eternity in pixels. But it sort of does turn on the guava: sweet but ominous fruit.

But, no, here your voice is hardly the careless caster of jetsam. More like the careful painter of masterpieces.

Take care. We're always here, and will always be overjoyed to see you.
I sit here and watch two grown men.,.. Where did time go?
Hugs to you and your girls.
Luminous tribute to summers end.
Oh my goodness, Vanessa. This is soooooo beautiful, every phrase a well-polished jewel. You should be paid for every word you write, but we are the clear beneficiaries of these you write just for us. I will miss you during your absences, but will rejoice when you join us.
Incandescent! Lovely words and bittersweet melancholy.
I have a 19-year old and a 13-year old. They're not my babies anymore. hard to let go, especially now that the older one has flown.
Oh so beautiful, bittersweet. You make me want to... there.
Oh so beautiful, bittersweet. You make me want to be... there.
This is sublime, Vanessa.
Everyone has already chosen the best adjectives for this. I cannot add anything more than stunning, luminous, and incandescent. You have a tremendous gift, Vanessa. _r
It has all been said; beautiful.
You explain summer "the word is simply an ill-used noun so well with this, eating "guavas stolen from abandoned backyards" and seeking eternity in pixels, among all the rest. This beautiful Vanessa.

I've missed your words as of late.xo
so gorgeous if the rest of America could read you, Vanessa, we'd all want to live on your island R.
The most important and beautiful moments and things in life often defy words...at least for most of us...at least for me...but not for you...especially in most particularly wonder-ful THIS. Breathless beauty...amazing work, v. RRRRR x infinity.
how lovely... thank you
Lyrical, words like hand-tatted lace--or better, words to place, in small dollops, on the tip of the tongue, for the pleasure they deliver to the savory receptor cells.
half excited about this, half afraid to let go
Que sigas, chama. Y cuando te toca descansar, que descanses bien.
Such gloriously beautiful thoughts of summer, of children, of time and of love. Much love to you especially now as you find your way through all of life's wonders.
I feel tinges of bittersweet while reading this; a pleasure to read you when ever you are able.

So beautiful, I 'm sighing out of wonderment as well as the poignancy you've depicted.
Very lovely.
I want to let this one linger with my thinking awhile.....
Lovely, Vanessa. Your words are such a balm to my spirit. You are, knowing it or not, a part of eternity. It is already captured. No pixels needed. Love toward others is all that is needed, and you have it in abundance. I hope the work goes well. You have found a place in our hearts and, to use the old cliche, tired but true, you are welcome any time to this home away from home. We'll save you a chair and leave the light on for you.

Oh, my GOOD God this is gorgeous...and I do know. And they grow up sooooo fast--I know! I watched...but most of all, like you, I took the time to revel in it, too...

Enjoy. Drop us a note now and then...one just like this...and we will be satisfied...almost...
Beautifully written, Vanessa. I hope you find the time to write -- the words need you.
Somewhere I discovered that my own existence is not open ended and that my children have grown so far and fast. It is the ending of summer that takes me forever away to the fall of the past, where children, volunteer work and business consumed my every breath and dollar. Now I will adjust, just as the apple ripens on the tree, I will taste the sweetness of the new adventure the fall of my being, the very best time of the year, the colorful time, when the reaping is done. Forge ahead to the time of old, in dreams, more dreams life is still to unfold. Have a wonderful fall and enjoy your work. You are valued here and we will wait for you. I will share some fruit. R
Beautiful Vanessa....yes, it seems in the blink of an eye they are grown. good luck to you and come back when you can. Much love.
My mother-in-law once said to me at a most appropriate time "the only thing that ever surprised me in life was how fast my children grew." She was right. And now I share that with my children now that they are parents (when did THAT happen???)

My work that I get paid for is going to intrude in my time here too...I'll check in on you when I'm here. Love your writing.
this takes my breath away, vanessa, the beauty you write.
Wow Vanessa. Just wow.

They will grow up a little slower for you than for most people, if you can continue freezing moments like this in time. Wow.
No comments, just appreciation of your writing and your gift that you share with us. You go back to school too soon. ~R
serene and beautiful.

you always do this; remind me of fruits i love but no longer partake of because of my location. this time it's guava with the flavor on my tongue and the seeds stuck in my molars.

time is shifting but so darn finitie for us humans. keep the pixels.
What a sublime reflection. The mellifluous flow of language, the wistfulness -- this is exquisite.
Absolutely exquisite, Vanessa!
Transcendent Vanessa...I came late to this but I am overwhelmed.

"there, encased by a bower of beryl and silver and dying citrine, a fake lutescent ocean of listless waves reminds me of songs in French that whisper of others things..."

just had to immerse myself again in that verse...
Vanessa, you use words like musical notes. This is glorious! Thank you!
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