in the rain.

Dear Rain,

thank you, and the wind, now will you please wash this day away.  Wash away the dentist, and the reminder that my teeth have been falling apart for years now, and aren’t I always just going to be a poor kid with bad teeth.  No matter the degrees I get, or how much capital I accrue, I will be a kid whose dad is arguing with the receptionist who is married to the man with the DMD.

And thank you to the stylist with the opening in his schedule, even when I rang at ten am, and wanted to be seen at noon. Thank you for the chair that was open – and the hair color, that can cover up any angst. And, thank you for the scissors, that could cut my hair, and make me look like someone else.

Because today, I long to be someone other than who I am. And in the mirror, as I catch a half glance of myself as I walk by to bed – it is someone else who looks back, she does not have bad teeth, her dentist isn’t short with her, her life looks more put together.

Dear rain, you are the perfect soundtrack for the story whose pages I flip through on this dreary evening – the one that has keeps mentioning things, as if I could have written it instead.   Dear rain, please stay for a bit, and your friend, the wind too.  Settle in, stay a while, be what I need tonight.

with love,

me

Sunset in the Valley Haiku

From UMass, with a
view of the West, Hatfield, home,
on the Horizon.

Dear. . .

Dear Winter,
Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out.  You totally sucked, and I’m a life long New Englander who doesn’t believe in complaining about the weather.

Dear Spring,
Oh hi, so nice of you to show up, what with all the taking your time, and never being early anymore. Well now that you’re here, can we get to the new growth and the warmth and the green already?

Dear . . .

Dear trees,
feel free to keep all your branches tonight.

Thanks,
the homeowner who enjoys both her slate roof and her electricity

Dear Gods of snow days and delayed openings,
any other time of the year you are most welcome, but during exams, you make everything wonky.

Yours truly,
the teacher who enjoys things unwonky

Dear food, stop being so good.

No seriously,
the woman who would enjoy wearing some of those old size eight jeans.

Dear children,
Today when I said I quit, and my name wasn’t mommy anymore, it was Tara, and you would have to go to the Mommy Store and pick out a new mommy– yah, sorry about that. After you went to bed, I totally stashed away some money for any therapy you might need in the future.

kisses and hugs,
your mommy, who promise she won’t ever quit

Dear . . .

Dear graduating class,

How much fun did we have last week?  Way to be the 346th graduating class of one of the 10 oldest high schools in the nation – you’ve done us all proud.

Dear Cold,

Who gets a cold in June? Oh me. Awesome.

Dear food,

feel free to cook yourself this week. Seriously. Oh and laundry, while we’re at it, folding yourself would be key.

Dear BP,

While I’m getting a kick out of loading up the live feed from the spill every morning, enough is enough.  Also, blaming the sickness of the workers on food poisoning – f’in classy.  If the plan is to  be more evil than Haliburton, well you’re doing a good job on that one. High Five.

Dear Ray Allen,

um. I love you. I have since I was 16. Last night – 8 from behind the line . . . awesome. Oh and Doc – I’m not sure how you managed to coach with freakin’ Jack Nicholson an inch behind your ear all night – but good job anyhow.

Dear . . . .

Dear main stream media,

You can not call it a landslide for the GOP – when the only election of last night… that is for a seat – not a primary – was won by a Dem. in a heavy ’08 McCain district.

Dear yellers,

You can not say the main strea media is so so liberal, when the freakin’ NYT has a freakin’ love letter to Limbaugh on it’s Editorial page today.

Dear surgery,

a bandage so big, I have to get a ride home because my vision will be obstructed? Dude. That’s hot.

Dear May and June,

you’re kicking my arse.  Every weekend is booked out from here to eternity – and a lot of the weekdays.  And last night I said yes to chaperoning a camp out with teenagers — yeah I know – May and June, that’s not really your fault.

Dear . . .

Dear 20 something in the Volvo with techno blaring like you were at Ministry of Sound,
Thanks.  That was a good chuckle.

Dear 20 something #2 who yelled, as I was almost out of the store, “thanks m’am. Have a good day”,
Was that necessary? I was a foot out the door, am I that old that you had to annunciate m’am.

dear . .

Dear Girl Scout cookies, I love you, and I will eat every one of  you contained inside those three boxes I got yesterday.

Dear slush, you’re horrible.  go away.