‘It’s been a long time coming’

‘But that’s good!’ I think, my mind going immediately to the – er – personal, perverting the intended meaning. 

I remember an occasion when a group of us were talking about travel options, and I said, in all seriousness,

‘I always prefer the long, scenic routes.’

But I pronounced ‘routes’ as we do in Australia, like ‘roots’, and my Canadian friend — who had been here long enough to pick up another Australianism — said with a wicked smile, lowering her voice to husky,

‘Oh, so do I!’

Her husband snorted dismissively.

(The difference between women and men?)

For whatever reason, that marriage didn’t last.

long ago

conversations —

a circle

old friends old loves

some dead, others …

Note: The word 'root' is Aussie slang for sexual intercourse. (One of several words Americans should be careful about saying to Australians because it doesn't mean, here, what it does there.) 

For Friday Writings #65 at Poets and Storytellers United, Rommy invites us to write what comes to mind when we see the phrase, “it’s been a long time coming.” (It's not her fault if I have a dirty mind.)

Solitary Feast

1.

All the veggies to hand, throw in a large pot

including the heavy roots for thickening

(potatoes, sweet potatoes …)

with split peas, lentils, soup mix, rice,

salt and lots of spices — I like ‘em hot —

remembering coriander for the taste

and turmeric for keeping healthy.

Fill with water, stir, cook very slowly.

Decant hours later, when cooled,

into six stacking freezer containers

and one big bowl to have now.

2.

All the bits and pieces of your experience, gather 

in a huge conglomeration — not leaving out 

the ordinary, which holds the rest together. 

Mix in the savoury chunks you like to go back to

and taste all over again, because they nourish you 

even in memory. And then add the highlights,

those moments that blend in spice and colour —

the joys and even the mistakes … let us say

the adventures, however they may have turned out.

Stir it all up, bring to a rolling boil, allow to simmer.

Gulp a big bowl; lick your lips. (Save some for later.)

Image by Gaelle Marcel at Unsplash.

I was going to write a micropoem, but it grew! That was section 1.  I shared it with the LitChix, my offline writers' workshop; one of them insisted it was a recipe but not a poem. So I let it percolate for 10 days, then added section 2.

I'm sharing this at Poets and Storytellers United, Friday Writings #63: What's Cooking?

New Direction

For Judith

Shedding old hurts and burdens

along with the ex and, finally, the house —

the furniture packed (what he hasn’t 

wrecked or hidden) and the paperwork, 

in all it’s complications, nearly done — 

she gets her long, long tresses cut.

No more winding them into a rope 

at the back of her neck, or coiled 

like a snake, heavy on her head. 

New wings curve lightly to her cheeks,

and her whole face is bathed in light.

A sudden turn, a pivot, into freedom!

Sharing this with Friday Writings #62: Pivot, at Poets and Storytellers United.