Nearly 18 months ago, after many urgent and panicky calls from my elderly parents, I moved from Oklahoma to Ohio. Irv and Edna, the parents, now in their 90's, were still living in their home and their day-to-day lives, they cried, were becoming just too overwhelming for them to handle.. They needed help. Duh. My comings and goings were now monitored by the very people I had successfully avoided since my eighteenth birthday. Karma; pure and simple.
White, English-speaking God, I thought, like Santa Clause; instead of a red velvet suit cinched at the waist with a shiny belt , He wears a white toga with a macrame sash . Same throne, same people waiting in line to give Him their I-want-this list. And their baggage, the weight of it breaking their backs, tied with tinsel bows, is given freely as Christmas cheer.
There was no half full or half empty. There was no glass even. Because, really, what difference did it make? The joyous answer was, None. To stand there, in the flip-flop of flux, beside a jumble of shopping carts, was the perfect place, right then, to be. And aren't we, all of us, just clowns in rented skin waiting for the bus that takes us to the oasis?