Happy Birthday

Happy birthday to me

My natal birthday

On this day

April 18

One of my mothers gave birth to me

One week later

My other mother picked me up

My birthday history begins there

A long time ago

This morning

I wanted to cry

Because

No birthday cake

It’s Passover

Friday breakfast buddies out of town

Bad timing

And I’ve gotten too old to sleep with gorgeous young men

Darn 

So I took myself out for a birthday walk with my hound

Had a pleasant birthday shower

Went to a birthday meeting of like-minded spiritual people

Enjoyed a birthday soy latte complements of Starbucks

My friend Nik presented me with birthday flowers

And the list goes on

No need to cry

The day given to me

Worked

Birthday dinner and theater

Alas still no birthday cake

But birthday Caesar salad

Birthday chicken piccata

Affogado for my birthday dessert

Book of Mormon for birthday entertainment 

Usually

I get to see my birthday

Once a day

At 4:18

If I remember to look

Today

My phone said

April 18

For twenty four hours

Nice

©kcasady2014

Null and Void

Perhaps I'm inured to it

Seasoned

A little bit too familiar

The old ones keep dying

Been through it before

Sadly

Knowing what to expect

The comments about long life

The brave remarks about the death

The requisite love and adoration

The war stories of caring for the old and frail

But past the cynicism 

Underneath 

Not too far below the surface

Exists a sense of wistfulness

Of longing to go back

To when the old ones were in their prime

When they buffered us 

The next generation

When their homespun faces dotted holiday dinners

The young ones assured of no change

Certain of continuity and always

Only a single old one still lives

For her

At 97 continuity disconnects and always becomes never

Time scampers quickly

Exhibiting an agility no one can stop

We younger ones step up

Reluctantly dotting funeral tables

with our taut faces

As we shield the next ones

Taking our turn

Walking involuntarily toward null and void

©kcasady2014

Right Sized

Her battle was not lost

She still stands today

They never gave it a name

The illness that nearly struck her down

It’s a crap shoot she’d say

A guessing game

Some win

Some lose

Roll the dice

All or nothing

It took nearly two years

Surgeries, radiation, chemo

Leaving one dead kidney

A digestive tract loping along on scars

And the perpetual question

Is it back?

She’s cancelled her future medical appointments

What’s the point she says

Nothing they can do if they find something

So she lives

Travels

Stays at five star resorts

Spoils herself

Her son

Her husband

My every second day phone calls have stopped

No longer necessary

But then

As now

I do not discuss with her the shit storms that kick up in my life

Seemingly serious matters right sized when held up to mortality

I have my health

I face only quality problems

Things I’d deal with everyday

Twenty-four seven

Grateful

For the breath to work through them

©kcasady2014

Queen Esther

Leibe

Love in Yiddish

Esther 

After the Queen of Persia

Leibe Esther

Her Jewish name

Given in the tradition of her ancestors

Called out in the synagogue at her baby naming

Randomly chosen by the rabbi

Yiddish sentimentality

Loaded on top of her American name

Her real name

The one she went by every day

Except at Sunday school

Where each kid went by their Hebrew name

Her teacher crowned her Esther

Changing her Yiddish moniker

To understandable Esther

Hebrew Esther 

Biblical Esther

Savior of the ancient Jews of Persia

Forcing unwanted heroism upon her

She never saw herself as Esther

And even less as Leibe

That sounded like Libby

A musty smelling babushka 

Grey haired 

Plump

Sharp tongued

Thrusting the weight of the shtetl not love upon her

Then one day her aunt

An old Zionist

In whose apartment Golda Meir had once stayed

Told her she could just be Karen 

A ray of sunlight in Hebrew

And the ancient queen of babushkas vanished in the brightness

©kcasady

Foreign Film

Sometimes

In the late afternoon

Work shelved for the day

Her body heaved into the Fiat

Bogged down

Bloated seated floppy cadaver

Steering towards its manger

Eager for rest and food

The radio clears its throat

Taps its baton and

Fills the tiny auto with music 

Piano notes sedately dot the dashboard, seats and driver

Landing serenely

Gracefully

The grey street scape turns soft yellow and

Dusk light floods through the  windshield

Immersing the driver in a sepia foreign film

Of secret love

Furtive glances and

Languid afternoons of

Forbidden sex

©kcasady2014

Library Steps

There they sat

On the library steps

Backpacks scattered

Two dark heads

Engaged

Deeply

Barely noticing the passerby

Skirting around them

Moving swiftly up the stairs

Scurrying to a meet up

A slight glance back

Curious

About them

There they sat

On the library steps

Two dark heads

Hers barely touching his

Still deeply engaged

Neither looking up at the descending passerby

Again skirting around them

Having completed another rendezvous

Glancing back

No longer curious

You two have a lot to talk about said the passerby.

We lost track of time said the young bearded man.

The dark haired girl leaned in closer to him.

We do she said. Yes we do.

©kcasady