The Tiger

As a child, I remember watching The Tiger venture into the water, never the ocean; only the safety and confinement of the pool.

The pool was dirty, cold and unopened. The vinyl lining had caved in and crumbled into the sand and water stirred together for more than 10 years.

The Tiger couldn't swim. Parents from his country scared their young away from the cold sea for their own good. Most young never learned to swim. 

The Tiger would venture into the pool with trepidation and flirtation. He liked it. And, he feared it. He respected the depth that called him.

Looking for home, he followed his emaciated soul into that which was below the crumbled lining. 

Pine Street

Fleeting it may be
the moment is now
to notice
to embrace
to listen
to believe
to stop
to play

In that space between that which defines the dailiness of our days, I am want to remind myself that this is *it*.

This is the "ever after", the "someday", the "if only".

Time to plant flowers and leave dishes.
Bake bread and ignore laundry.
Build tents out of blankets and make a sleep-over with my family.

The dream exists. It is here between me and you and them and us.

Write now.
Paint now.
Absorb now.

That which we pine for is here.
It will never be perfect.
Weeds will always need tending.
Paint will need to be peeled.
Baby clothes need to be rotated.
Dinner to be made.
Laundry to be folded.

The key, it seems, is to carve out space within our reality and challenge ourselves to enjoy it ...

the bubbling water, the stained, yet, clean t-shirts, the rocks and sand that artfully litter the backyard, and the strewn about DVDs with mismatched cases.

This is what I will yearn for now. 10 years from now, 10 days from now, 10 minutes from now. I yearn now.