Candid Corvid Productions

Because I saw you, back then, before anybody knew you.

I saw your potential, and I saw you poised to grow true.

I didn’t know what to expect from you, but I recognized.

My soul was jangled into awareness and instinct marked.

Then, I ignored you – for I hate and did not want obsession.

I did not want to fixate upon outcomes, nor rail vexations.

Until the day you arrived in front of me – and I remembered.

The way I felt for you back then remained, heat tempered.

I’ve reviewed your life’s accomplishments and see you rising.

You’ve become like me, after all – without compromising.

A thought – fleeting – taking me to another land.

An island, to be precise, where a man grew from childhood to one day take command.

I am there, for a few moments, wandering the perimeter until I find a bench overlooking the ocean.

Then I sit, leaning forward with my elbows propped on thighs and chin resting in my hands.

Is it sunny or overcast? Wind or no? Light drizzle or balmy?

I can smell and taste the salt, heavy on the air from waves crashing below as spray particles reach me.

What greatness has been born on this isle, to travel over the channel and cause nations to rise or fall?

What genius has ignited from the once tender heart of a complex soul?

My parents never felt the desperation of poverty, nor the vexation of being trapped in a town where one’s skills were barely applicable and rarely appreciated.

They never felt the hardship of continuous labor against elements and uneven, angled terrain bound to trip you at any minute – or make you slip and possibly break a leg if leveraging anything heavy.

They never felt the insecurity of power failing – how close to the edge we were living, without backup resources or communication in a drafty, canted dwelling.

Oh, they warned us it could be challenging, and chastised me for not being able to do enough like they wanted – while blaming not enough rent collected to warrant their fixing the decaying shower.

And when they visited, they stayed in their nice, well built, insulated house perched above us, “snug as bugs in a rug’s” “lap of luxury,” claiming they were homesteading.

Learning to let go and relax when the funds are low and more are hidden from view with impending rent and many other bills due (including another moving truck, trailer, and car that needs repair to be towed in order to completely vacate the property properly) is like having a broken bone underneath muscles that keeps misalligning.

It’s a bit alarming to have people so close that they are above and to both sides of us, after being isolated for three years on a mountainside.

Our cave of a slanted, cobbled-together 1950’s mobile home once-trailer is being replaced by a level-on-solid-ground one bedroom apartment without delayed maintenance issues.

(I get half of the large living room for my space -thus the needed privacy panels. And luckily I have ear plugs on, so the neighbors’ infiltrating sounds are slightly distanced.

This has got to be better than having lived in the motel room weekly for the last several months – and the caliber of people here have healthier lifestyles.

I don’t think we’ll be exposed to extreme drug and alcohol use, nor other people’s desperation and homeless disrepair.

I am grateful for this – though the the sudden banging noises they make as they prepare to go and then leave jolt me!

How do people do it?

Do they hire movers, have lots of friends, have extra time to spend, or just have flexibility?

The truck is half unpacked – all I could do late last night without help in the occasional lite rain.

The floors where furniture will go are washed, and alcohol wipes made the toiletries approachable.

(The shower afterwards was hot, the water soft and full, and the tub and walls are repaired without massave rot, mold, and crumbling apart!)

But, I had to call in to keep the truck yet another day because, like it or not, I needed to rest before moving the heavier things with my youngest.

We both worked all night until 6am this morning.

How is it that I thought two hours of sleep following could possibly rejuvenate, as I stretch my sleeping muscles warning me to be careful?

I must try to sleep some more, and chase away the work-I’ve-missed worries.

I’m in the eye of the storm, now – there’s no escape until the tasks are accomplished and the winds of change transfer us completely over.

Extending wings to carefully test the air, allowing currents to lift her gently.
Instincts oriented on sweet destination trust the breeze to carry her home.

I saw it coming, could feel it ahead.

The timing of dwindling money with the inability to not overspend.

Setting out on the road, when all you have it a plan – and a huge leap of faith where you let the universe take command.