Through these Eyes Part 68

Ascent To Reality

From beneath the autumn leaves I watched a youthful, auburn squirrel Leap cautionless from limb to limb.

With no rival but himself To test his acrobatic feats, He bethought he'd mastered all And, bathing in a pool of pride, Washed apprehension from his mind.

The tiny sprite performed his dance From tree to wind-tossed tree, Alive with joy and pure delight...

He knew no pain, no discontent, And thus immersed, called life a dream.

But noonday warmth soon disappeared And golden rays slashed through the trees.

The sun cast spotlights on the lawn And made the trees let go their crown.

Darkness stole the crimson glow And, as through his domain he flew, The squirrel ran before the night, Thinking he could out-wit time.

On agile feet, both swift and sure, He sailed into the shadowed trees, Yet missed his mark in failing light, Betrayed by faulty, youthful pride.

Catapulting toward the earth, The wind reached out and caught his pride And blew a limb within his grasp To buffer his naivete'.

Life was not a blissful dream; He panted in unsteady breaths, Drawing strength from wisdom gained Through time and circ.u.mstance.

Ascending toward the lofty heights, His vision was renewed. . .

The world became Reality Both beautiful and cruel, While he transformed to earthly size, A minute parcel of himself Yet elemental to the whole.

Lauren Isaacson October 17, 1985

Daydreams

Today I reserve for dreaming, For dismissing the hectic world, For unleas.h.i.+ng my burdens unto the wind Where, no longer imprisoned, They'll haunt me no more.

If only today, how high I shall fly!

Soaring amid the fragrant breeze, Adrift with the blackbirds And fluttering leaves, My freedom will beckon me Rise higher still And my spirit, unshackled, Will lounge on the clouds To create wistful visions Of heaven above.

But daydreams must end With the red setting sun And, like autumn leaves, Succ.u.mb to decay.

For today, dreams exist, not for 'ever, Sustaining when all else runs foul.

Dreams, alone, are the soul food of G.o.d. . .

The ambrosia of heaven on earth.

Lauren Isaacson October 24, 1985

Oct. 27, 1985... Todd and Debbie came yesterday. We had a wiener roast for lunch; it was quite appropriate as the day was crisp and clear.

Today, after lunch, I asked Mom how long they would be staying; she thought I was complaining and said, "sometimes I wish it was all over for me so I wouldn't have to listen to all of this; everyone thinks only of themselves, yes, everyone is so selfish." When I recovered slightly I said that I hadn't meant it that way, but that I was scared about getting too tired... I didn't want to say that, it sounded selfish, too.

Too often I have experienced hurtful things when there is a visit; while one can forgive and try to start anew with each visit, I find it impossible to forget. When hurtful statements are made, that person is still the same; there is still that part lurking behind the individual and it becomes difficult to know how "genuine" is their countenance.

Mom apologized for her earlier statement; she was tired and rather depressed. She said she "hurt" for so many people, she felt she was falling apart. I had been so afraid of hurting her with my confidences, afraid I wouldn't have anyone to confide in; I felt incredibly alone. I was so happy she came up; I don't think I could have handled such desperate loneliness. It was great to have a hug.

Nov. 5, 1985... I've neglected this journal; Dad made a frame for my pointalism of the Grand Canyon. I have it behind the sofa on the south wall; I really like it. Other events: Mom and Dad replaced Lynn's stone at the cemetery with a large stone for our entire family; Lynn, Norm, Mom, Dad, and me. They had not told me before, but I've been wondering; when they talk with me about death it is so different for it is spoken with love and deep caring.

We made up a memorial service for me from my writings; I have to select the poems I would like and then it will be complete.

Nov. 7, 1985... The "runs" again, but I was able to sit outside by afternoon. I wore the "Tahoe" sweats.h.i.+rt Jon had sent some time ago plus my corduroy coat. It was about right. I wrote a poem while sitting there.

I wonder if I'll accomplish all that I truly wish to before I die. . .

My book is progressing; I keep writing poetry too, so I have a lot done; a little at a time, and one day at a time! I'd love to finish the quilt and also calligraph some of my poems.

Whispering Pines

I heard the pine trees gossip To the pa.s.sing northern winds, Disclosing facts quite true, yet low, In hurried gusts and whispered blows.

"The hardwoods lost their haughty glow. . .

Amazing how fast glamour goes!

Now they're merely sapless sticks Bereft of life, 'twould seem...

They look so gnarled, so thin and sick Beside our evergreen!"

Lauren Isaacson November 7, 1985

Nov. 22, 1985... The 17th I began to run a temp; it continued and by Mon. eve was 103 degrees. Mom tried giving me a cool bath. It was a "real thrill" trying to get down in the tub. (I fell in, and barely made it getting out... I have no strength in my arms or legs). Mom has been sleeping upstairs since I got sick. Food "sticks" so that I would welcome losing it. Mom has been serving me gingerale; it helps.

I've lost weight. Noodles are the only food that appeals to me; it's at least a start.

I've not worked on my book since Nov. 7th. Many changes have taken place; even with my weight loss I can no longer wear my beloved mink coat; it's 2 and more like 3 inches from even touching right to left!

And to think I was once but 24 inches around the waist! Sharon looks good with her disciplined weight loss. What emotional problems there are to be reckoned with in this life!

Dec. 17, 1985... I didn't elaborate on my 24th birthday; I should fill in the days. There were 30 birthday cards in all. I hadn't expected it, since 24 is a rather "blah" age, and also, I keep thinking the cancer situation will become old hat. I guess I was very wrong.

Thursday I walked with Mom to Bev's Xmas Coffee; just 4 houses away.

I got tired, then so hot; I could hardly walk home. Mom had wanted to take the car, but I would have felt like a fool for such a short trip. She was right; it was very tiring.

Sat.u.r.day Mom had a special dinner planned so all could see the new addition to the Isaacson clan. It didn't work out so well; the guest of honor left!

Dec. 23, 1985... We enjoyed a lovely dinner at Chet and Margaret's.

The nausea almost spoiled my evening, but it finally pa.s.sed (whew!).

There were just the 3 of them, the 3 of us, and Les. It's better without all the weird things that happen when too many are invited!

Dec. 24, 1985... CHRISTMAS EVE DAY. . . I felt good today. Jon came over around 2:00 and stayed until 4:00. We stayed downstairs by the Christmas tree. He wrapped up a 6-pack of orange-flavored mineral water for me. I had ordered a boomerang for him; and so ended our Christmas.

The family Christmas was great, as usual. Les came, too. We had Cornish Hens, potatoes, stuffing, bread and waldorf salad; excellent!

Afterwards, we read the Xmas story and a few other readings; then we had our exchange.

Dec. 25, 1985... Todd and Debra came for today. Our big meal was at noon. Mom fixed a turkey breast with all the tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs. We had our gift exchange in the afternoon. Todd got a kick out of his "reality mug" and a Far Side daily calendar.

Dec. 27, 1985... I'm getting sick again, temp of 101... arhythmia heart action lasted 12 hours. This was an illness of long duration.

I stayed upstairs. . . I had to waken Mom, (she has been sleeping up-stairs). We tried the deep breathing, plus a few other things.

I finally took a valium and tried to relax. Mom called the doctor as early as she dared; he called in a prescription for a heart regulator.