How Old Is Your Shmata?

Facebook shows me some pictures and memories and I swear I read something that asks how old my Shmata is.

I smile and mutter, “old enough to have been around for the move from the first decade of the ’00s into the second. Call it 17 or 18 years.”

There is no reply not that I expect any to come from me talking to myself so I add, “call it two teenage girls later and 9,093 changes.”

I flash the silence a smile, make a silent promise to push hard on some other changes and acknowledge this New Year’s Eve is the last of the old and the first of the new.

Stretch my body to it’s full length, rotate my torso, twist and turn a few more times to work out the kinks and hear a voice tell the time has come.

Don’t know whose voice it is or where it came from, but I nod my head because I know what it means. The roadblocks are being moved out of the way.

If You Will It

There is magic in the moonlight, I feel it changing and can hear bells and a heavenly symphony warming up.

The ethereal ring of fire is burning and the souls are responding and I can feel a different definition of “If you will it, it is not a dream” preparing to play out.

Got no guarantees or bank notes to cash in but there are promises to go with hopes and dreams– sometimes that is enough.


Middle sister tells me that my niece has been accepted to a few more schools and I say Mazal Tov while asking if she prefers one over the others.

Soon fifty percent of parent’s grandchildren will be out of high school and in a very short time two more will be out as well.

In the blink of an eye I’ll have moved from a young father and uncle to the middle aged guy who is closer to the end of the career than the beginning.

Been a while already since I wandered around the office as one of the younger guys. Generation X has long since moved up the chain and in many cases become the man we used to point at and talk about.

I’ll let others say whether we have done better than those who preceded us or fallen short of the mark, at least tonight I will as there is no time to do otherwise.

Five More Minutes

I have five more minutes in which to write this evening for there are other things to attend to.

Five more minutes in which to promise to try and come up with something worthy of the new year, if not for you, than for me.

Which is really as it should be because if I cannot entertain myself with these words upon the page there is no hope for moving you.

If I cannot find the the way to strike a chord and touch a nerve within myself there is less hope of reaching others.

It is not impossible, nor unlikely but if you are pushing for a shared experience it is harder.

Sometimes you want it to like that one kiss that builds upon itself with unexpected electricity that makes you come back again because you have to know if lightning strikes once or twice or if you are tied into the current…forever.

It is all done in the name of science of course.

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