Madison lives in chaos with a creative family whose idea of a "mess" is probably different from most of the rest of society. We are "pilers". Things get put on top of other things and then we can ignore them. I mean literally. So, this little girl created an imaginary friend. What does she call him? "Order", of course!

Teachers

How many things
have I missed seeing
just because they weren't dazzling at that moment?
My childs sense of wonder, in running through puddles,
or the colors of the sun as it escapes for the evening,
or the soft wrinkles around my best friend's eyes.

I think four year olds should be college professors.

They would teach us about slowing down,
and how to pick up small stones to study later.
We'd all throw sticks in creeks
and watch for them to move with the water.

Ducks would be our friends.
And we'd have ice cream for dinner sometimes.

We all have a lot to learn.

Hands

If your hands were sand dunes they would be exquisite.
Sepia browns, wrinkles and lines,
maps of something unknown.
If your hands could talk, what stories would they tell?
Of love, grief, pain?

Ripples, patterns of wind and water
contantly changing and eroding,
thousands of crevices
stretched across time.

Hands the color of Tuscon
and old sage,
Saddle tan
and memories of gold.

Flirting

A quick eye for you
and tiny hope that you see me back
because passion is not faked

Pretending that I know you entertains me
plus it is fun that I don't know your faults
and you do not know mine.

Seeing you just makes me feel better somehow.

Cassie Mason woke slowly. She was lying on a hospital gurney with both arms at her sides. Her body was numb and she was confused and disassociated. "What happened? Where is my son?" she asked.

A male nurse was standing next to her. He bent down and gently said "Someone will talk to you very soon, but we need to get you stabilized first."

She tried to look into his eyes, but he looked away. A doctor also approached. He, too would not meet her gaze. For a few seconds, she tried to silently rationalize this, "He must have some sort of damage," she thought. "Maybe brain damage or Downs Syndrome." She closed her eyes and fell back into sleep.

When she opened up her eyes again, she saw her husband Daniel, staring down at her. He had such an terrible look on his face and she wanted to close her eyes again, but before she could, he was saying, "Dylan's gone." He shook his head and added, "I'm so sorry, but he didn't make it." He reached for her hand. She couldn't feel anything. Walls began to form in her mind. "No," was all she said. "No."

The same nurse stood next to her husband. "On a scale from one to ten, with ten being the highest; how much pain are you in right now?" Without thinking, Cassie said, "Nine." "I wish they would all go away," she thought. "I need to figure out what happened."

She closed her eyes again and within minutes, morphine kicked in and she surrendered herself into the drug induced fog.

When she came to again, she was aware of someone near her head. "Cassie," a voice pleaded. "You have to wake up." She shook her head no and tried to stay asleep, but the voice was persistent and several other voices joined in. "Cassie, please? You must open your eyes."

Her eyes opened up a little bit and she tried to focus. "Where am I," she asked. Daniel and the midwives were standing there and one of them pushed something towards her. "Your baby, Cassie, you have to see him."

The small, warm bundle rested on her chest, just underneath her chin. As a sob escaped her body, she looked down at his face. His blueish-pink skin reminded her of a robins egg and his eyes were closed. He was beautiful. A shock of dark hair stood straight up and she thought about touching it too, but all she could manage to do was to stare at him while tears fell down the side of her face. "Oh," she mumbled. Her witnesses silently stood back, knowing she needed this time. She fell asleep holding him on her chest, unable to let him go or say anything else.

She held him most of the night. Several times she woke up, remembered what had happened and looked at her baby. She told him how much she loved him. She told him about his family-- his big sister and how terribly sorry she was. She knew she had failed to keep him safe. At one point a nurse came in and asked her if she could take the baby away and Cassie sent her away. She was not ready to let him go.

"I love you to the sun and back
and to the moon and back
all the way up to the stars,
and around the world three hundred and sixty seven times," she said softly.

When she woke up later that morning, her son's body was gone.

Nurses came in and out of her room; checking her IV, administering more pain killers, and trying to talk to her. She didn't say much to anyone. Daniel was there too, sleeping in a cot beside her bed. "I should call my family," she thought. "I need to let them know." But before she could act on any of her thoughts, she was always falling back asleep.

The doctor came in and stood by her feet. She asked Cassie if she had any questions. Inside her head, Cassie was screaming, but she held it all in and said, "No, not really." Daniel was awake too and he sat on the edge of Cassie's bed. The doctor read her chart, made a few notations and quietly left.

The television was on and the news channel reported that thousands were mourning in the streets of Paris on the one year anniversary of Princess Diana's death. She watched as they showed pictures of piles of flowers and distraught people milling around the streets. It seemed right. Sometimes she clutched the soft white baby blanket she had brought, expecting she would use it to carry him home in. Sometimes Daniel pushed the IV back and curled up on her bed next to her. She slept better when he was right there, even if it was cramped and they were both uncomfortable. She seemed less alone.

A day after Dylan's death she managed to call her parents. When her own mother's voice answered the phone, Cassie realized she wasn't even sure how to form the words to tell her what happened. She started, stopped. Tried again. She heard her own voice saying that her son died, but she was so outside of her own self that she did not feel those words. It was a short phone call and she was glad when it was over.

Not a whole lot going on today. Jason was able to get into the dentist, which is good. Mads and I are just hanging out. She is watching some of her favorite movies and I am online. I just made some pasta for her lunch. That pretty much sums up the excitement in my life (will it be penne or egg noodles?)

Of course if my life wasn't like this, I would probably be longing for it.

I've been restless all week. I keep taking long walks, hoping that will somehow clear my head. Yesterday Jason, Sierra, Madison and I went for a nice, long walk in the rain. We searched for puddles to stomp through and had a grand time. On the way home, we were at Briscoe School right near the old school bell and we were all racing towards it. I grabbed Jason's arm to hold him back and he grabbed me and I fell flat on my face in the mud. I hurt my hand, but it was just so funny. We laughed all the way home. I want to act like a four year old sometimes and make wishes on dandelions. It is a good way to be.

So two days ago, I turned thirty five. Shouldn't be a big deal. But for some reason, this one really bugged me. Half of seventy and I can't get past thinking about all of the things I haven't accomplished yet.

I'm settled down. We've been married ten years and have three kids together (two living). So my life doesn't even belong to me anymore. I am a mom first and then Jason's wife. My whole identity is tied up with them. And most of the time that is fine, but I get in moods sometimes and I wonder what happened to me. I used to play hard and laugh all the time. Now my sarcastic comments are often missed by our four year old daughter although I am fairly sure she will develop the same offbeat sense of humor.

It's not that I want to take huge risks. I know that I can't. I'd just like to be able to think that I can sometimes. Does that even make any sense?