Archive for Belle

Bellefest ’09….

Posted in Where Angels Perch with tags , , , , on October 27, 2009 by rodzink

DSC03068 DSC03002

The sounds of laughter…girls singing… heckling little boys… the tight embrace of family…friends.  I had to walk away…sit in the periphery of the firelit campsite….look inward at my family… A circle, somehow tightly woven in spite of itself….DSC03011

Today… I want to sit by the fire and watch you…hear you… experience who you are.. dream your dreams… think your thoughts… smile your smile…. I want you to know far into your years that there is nothing more important than you and Baker… I will be last.

My soul is departed and I am no longer my own… I am no longer my own.  Happy Birthday, Annabelle.  I love you so very much.

 DSC03027

DSC03042DSC03048DSC03060

Advertisements

Droplets…

Posted in Where Angels Perch with tags , , , , , on September 10, 2009 by rodzink

Practicing my “J” stroke…blade deep in the directionless, murky water, the only sounds were distant calls of the eager day.  I watched the swirls form beside me and disappear behind the canoe, like Orion fading from an autumn night…needlesly looking over my shoulder.  Water droplets, resembling the sparkling eyes of my children, migrated and gathered…going nowhere, but inherently finding each other and security…motivated by gravity, a powerful influence unshakably established in all things.

Belle Canoe

The Heron remained off our bow, refusing to pass overhead, keeps a wary, attentive eye towards the approaching canoe.  The redundancy of her unpleasant cry….the venom of the blackberry bush…does nothing to enhance her elegant flight.  Nevertheless, she is equipped…hand-tailored…perfectly suited for this milieu.  This is life.  The delicate ebb and uncontrollable flow of things…The natural order of our surroundings…situations..emotional ecosystem…inward predator…and social prey.

Me and Belle Canoeing

I felt the canoe hit and jut alongside an indelible stump, submerged in the shallows…simply lifting my blade…letting the canoe go where she is forced.  Resistance is unnecessary…certainly futile…Colossal sycamores demarcate separate worlds as they line the water…On the surface, she lives in one….but her existence not doubt depends on the unseen root structure that undoubtedly reaches into another.  And my mind immediately races back to the stump…and the results of living in unbalanced worlds.  A stalwart foothold in foreign soil…or trespassing unknowingly near a rising river..where we cannot live…the fine line separating adaptation…extinction.

The Great Race

Annabelle leaned into her paddle, gulping a blade-full of water…Her little shoulders tightened….flexed…as she powered forward.  Routinely, she put her feet over the side, with paddle resting across her legs..simply watching the world pass.  Baker trailed quietly in a separate boat as in maritime pursuit…cannons packed and smelling of powder.  We had been sprayed repeatedly…unexpectedly.  A trio of wood duck, beautifully marked, squeaked a departing shrill as they shot out of the grass with a velocity only allowed by a forward thinking creator…strangely incomparable to the lumbering heron.

At water’s edge, I pulled the canoe to shore….tilted on her side…kneeling beside the boat until the collected droplets could be returned to familiarity…back into the place for which they were meant to exist.  Loosening the grip is difficult…allowing innate fluidity…respecting the natural order of all things.

Concentration

Posted in Where Angels Perch with tags , , , on August 1, 2008 by rodzink

The tent..  a 5′ x 6′ two-man dome… small space… cozy.  Tonight was date-night with the most beautiful little lady I’ve ever known… We put up the tent and opened the flaps, allowing the breeze in… mosquitoes out.  The cyalume glow cast shadows on the blue interior.  Talking, giggling… holding my little girl.  Nothing mattered outside the thin walls for the time.  Baker was at the movies with a friend. He needed it.  I needed some one-on-one time with Belle.  This tent…. reminded me of my outlook.  Representative of my social life.. my family.  Closed to the unwanted.. unnecessary…… but encircling.. fully covering that which I must keep…. 

 

Annabelle Elizabeth….  I listened to her talk.  Ask questions…  Immediately, I was back at a tea party… struggling to stay in a tiny chair…  holding a tiny cup with two fingers.  I cannot recall a more enjoyable date.  I sat at that table, surrounded with fine China, enjoying the luxuries of life:  holding her hand….  kissing…..  learning some game from her where we clap hands and repeatedly call out all the names we  know.  Concentration?   She took me to her world…  I have since tried to view the world through her eyes….  I have learned so much.  I hug for no apparent reason…  play at any opportunity…. measure time in small increments….. pet stray cats….  catch butterflies….. wade into the creek with my shoes on… drive across town to have lunch with her…..  leave love letters and drawings in each other’s backpacks…….  I am uncontrollably in love.

I have laughed myself silly over her conjured accents…. hip-hop moves…. singing at open-mic karoake night….  clogging at the Mountain Opry….. Watched with pride as she climbed from the pool to receive her 1st place ribbons for the backstroke…..  Fearless… DragonFly….. hippie, comedian, girly-girl and tomboy all mixed up…   I’ve learned so much. 

 

Inside this tent….  Just the two of us… My thoughts wandered back some months….  We pitched our tent along the creek.. setup camp.  Baker had roamed to gather firewood.  Belle rolled out my sleeping bag and called me in to our weekend getaway.  Inside, she had pulled a couple of books from her backpack and offered a selection of nighttime reading… I remember lying there listening to the nearby owl… She read….  It occured to me how close to heaven I was at that moment…. Angel inside…. angels outside….  Within minutes, her eyes were closed. 

Concentration…..  eight times eight… sixty-four… I’ll go first… you go last….   The names trailed off…. Ultimately, I lost…  Apparently, I repeated a name…  my hand-claps were out of sync.  She laughed out loud at me…  My “concentration” is direct…  my efforts… dreams…  focus…  within the thin walls of my “tent”, my small “social circle.”