Viewing Postal Patrons from My Car

A heavy, sad feeling comes over me 
As I watch from the comfort of my car.
The snow falls quietly and gently on the sidewalk
Big, happy, fat white flakes of snow.
The lobby of the local post office
is lit by bright fluorescent lights.
I see a mother and daughter walk in
They are hatless, gloveless, shoes thin as moccasins;
Following comes the widow of my old English professor.
She looks sad and forlorn; her eyes looking
Pleading and lost, even after all these years.
With much haste comes a business man
Dressed in warm coat and leather gloves
Concealing his important papers before they get too wet.
A young man scurries past, always in a hurry
Head down, looking neither left or right, just hurry.
Time slips by, the snow keeps falling.
I watch them come and go, a day in many lives.
The snow keeps falling; it is soft, yet heavy enough to erase,
To erase those whom I’ve seen; erasing them into oblivion
It covers their tracks as though they never were;
As though each patron happy, sad, excited or cold had never been,
Covering their tracks as though they had
never existed at all.

copyright 2012 S. Olsen

Sexual Healing

I'm a woman and proud of it. I enjoy sex and I'm proud of that too. I don't see that, that should be a problem for anyone to understand.  (My children are probably shuddering right now!) We are given this gift and are meant to use it, and not abuse it.

With my husband's prostatectomy has come the prospect that the ability to share sexual love may no longer be viable. We haven't gotten to that stage, but it begins to sink in.

Recently, I read a blog written by a woman whose husband had, had prostate surgery. She was so distraught and distressed by the notion that there would no longer be sex that she asked for a divorce. I was shocked and saddened for this woman because it all seemed so shallow. Surely their relationship had not been built solely on sex, had it?

As my husband and I have gotten older we have come to the realization that we are more than two people who are married, live together and also have sex. We are two people who met so many years ago, fell in love, raised a family and have gone through various ups and downs. Sex is a wonderful thing indeed, but it is not the glue that binds us. Our heart felt love, admiration and support is what makes us complete. It is those warm hugs in the dark of night and those tender kisses when we need them most that keeps us knowing that although some part of "us" might have come to an end, that other doors will open and we will be led to a deeper knowledge and understanding about one another. 

Don't get me wrong, we both miss that piece which made us uniquely us. Yet we hold onto the part that made us zone in on each other in the first place. We hold on to the very fabric of our beings which strengthens the love that we have and that has gotten us this far. That love, which goes beyond the physical, not only heals us but keeps us as one. 

Right now, healing is still imminent and we haven't crossed that sexual bridge yet, but we are prepared, inside and out, body and mind, heart and soul.