Communication is a Contact Sport

A p r o n h e a d -- Lilly Green

You think you know me.

You know my name; you know my face, so you think you understand me,

and you say, “I hear what you’re saying.”

I say I’m cold;

you think I need a sweatshirt, but I feel indifferent.

I say run;

you think Dodgers, I think danger.

I say book;

you think Nook, while I think Cloud.

I say paper;

you think Times, and I think pages to fill.

I say fence;

you think walling in, I think walling out.

I say dog;

you think ugly girl, I think canine.

I say travel;

you think desert, I think Paris.

I say love;

you think sex, and I think Snickers.

I say like;

you think sex, while I think WordPress.

I say rich;

you think ten-year plan, I think fattening.

I say, “Do you hear what I’m saying,”

and you say, “Yeah, I hear you.”

Good.

I’m…

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Energy-Saving Steps and Missteps

A p r o n h e a d -- Lilly Green

With everyone scrambling to cut energy costs, I thought I’d pass along a few of my family’s timely tips:

1.  Replace energy-sucking halogen lamps (350-watts) with fluorescent floor lamps (63-watts) for the equivalent illumination.  I got mine at one store, then of course promptly found them at a neighboring store for two-thirds the price.  When you factor in the cost of gasoline in returning the original purchase, I probably saved fifteen cents.  But as my dad used to say, “If you take care of the pennies, the dollars will take care of themselves.”  Or was it, “Take care of the dollars because the pennies don’t matter a hoot?”

2.  Replace all light bulbs with fluorescent ones.  These bulbs are not to be used on a dimmer, on a 3- way switch, or in a top-heavy floor lamp.  They also shouldn’t be used in recessed receptacles because given the fact that…

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A Child’s Snow

A p r o n h e a d -- Lilly Green

Tractor treads in fresh white snow,

perfect form with heel and toe.

Angels fallen, rise again,

thoughtless sins of little men.

Fence posts peeking, winter’s quilt,

woven cold with crystal silk.

Words in vapor down the hill,

carve a path both loud and still.

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A Maze In Grace

Apronhead

Fumbling,

rushing headlong,

hanging on and pressing in path after path,

and the end becomes more and more important than these endless turns and

blank walls. Persevering,

stumbling, and

receiving grace for the task—

amazing.

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And Words Fall

Apronhead

It’s like sign language in the fog;

it’s like shouting into the wind, this barely touch and go we do—

me vulnerable,

me exposed,

left soul-naked and alone. And words fall.

And I can’t care more than you about connection and communion, and

I can’t expect more from the unwilling. So should I stop talking, coming,

trying to imagine your silence might be full of concern, prayer, and even

love.

Though silence might not mean indifference, that’s what it feels like.

Though silence might not mean abandonment, that’s what it feels like. And

closing a door to a sliver of possibility is better than these quiet beatings,

these solo-sadnesses of what is repeated

time

after

time.

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