when we were four

At twenty-seven dad married mom aged twenty-three
Two young adults in love with life without God
One year after I arrived, fourteen days late, healthy and hungry
Another year on, Mia, my sis, showed up but died an hour later
Photos smelling like Tabu among mom’s jewelry, nobody smiling except me
Then we were three

Closing down the factory after bearing my brother―fearing genetic defects might increase
Thirty-two months my junior, beautiful, gentle Derek
Faithful companion in the crowded Portuguese cafe buying warm white bread when school got out
Garden-bound-camping adventures, dramatic Christmas productions, and dressing up the pets
The blonde Wessels-clan shared nine caravanned summers down by the sea
Once when we were four

God moved in with us three months following the February I turned thirteen
He sent people, meals, and flowers three years later in June to Derek’s funeral and for many weeks there after
Mom’s sadness made her legs get weak which stopped dad from running so much to work and back
He built our simple beach house instead where we spent another fourteen Decembers beside the still waters
I miss the noise of many voices
without ever decorating another green tree with tiny lights since then
Now that we are only three again

Crossing eight time zones in seven planes, one train, one bus smuggling American chocolate in for mom
Christmas Eve winks at me ten days from now, celebrating the life of a Son subsequently lost to a sick world
Smelling the salt in the air, hugging dad’s broad shoulders sitting next to mom’s wheelchair
We smile at the Southern Cross and pray in hope for filling this home once more
With children’s laughter, getting sand inside the bed, received as the ultimate gift on earth from God
If one day we could be four again

let me out

Help!
Weight unbearable,
lungs unheaveable.

Awful smells suffocate, pinning me down to the third floor carpet.
Asian recipes, old oily fish, used diapers imprison me in this building like the unwashed smell of sweaty shoes.
Academic demands press down on my chest, colorless shadows suck up remaining heat inside―no escape.
Asthmatic panic seeps in beneath my front door, crawling over my motionless lips , chewing into my skin.

Help me Lord!

Close eyes,
pretend to fly,
huge wings rustle nearby,
stirs air across my face,
waving sweet scents into my burning lungs.
Dark shapes move away from eyelids still shut.
Warmth softly strokes exhausted arms and tangled hair, pale ochre rays stream into the room.

Looking up,
relief flows down.
Hope.

for jacob

...just to let you know that my retirement plan makes provision for pets...

I think this brochure said that they allow cats and fresh flowers in the rooms (chiseled-out caves in a mountain range in the south of Spain with heated water and satellite TV...)

..as far as I know we should have clear cell phone reception around noon when they start up the generator for our evening showers and daily dose of The Golden Girls, so you can catch up with me (around 6:00am in Dallas)...for a quick chat...

here and there

Eleven o’ clock again.

Shut up…Let me sleep.

You should get used to this if you plan to hang around.

Leave me alone. Who says I want to stay anyway?

Alone is exactly how you will end up, weighing 250 pounds addicted to Starbucks coffee and peanut butter.

When I finish school I will start living a normal life. My habits will change dramatically…for the better.

Do you mean that you will start drinking sodas with your breakfast, buy CDs with nature sounds on because you can only hear sirens through these double glazed windows and then decorate your house with plastic plants that survive by themselves?

I will find a place with space to plant a real garden, care for a cat or two, and move around a lot outside. Working with the garage door open, I will hear the squirrels fidgeting in the trees and smell my personal piece of cut lawn. Why do I bother justifying your ethnocentric arrogance with an answer anyway? Get out of here. I must sleep.

You wish you could remember the smell of the lawn in your parents' backyard after the rain. I know…I see your mind trying to feel the hot sun against your face. This place has sucked you in, don’t you see? You have accepted the fact that you hear your neighbors flush their toilets, that the anti-burglar lights burn so bright all night that you have never had a single night’s sleep without dreaming since you arrived. No wonder you need to take drugs to get some sleep here.

Oh yes, I should take some Melatonin and remember to put the pillow over my head. I might as well get up and fill my glass with water again. Staying hydrated with the heater on all the time makes for a busy night.

Do you want to spend the rest of your life over-exerting your kidneys in this insane climate? Back home you at least knew what to expect; one season at a time. You could get through a blistering summer day, easily braving a hundred degrees without any air-conditioning.

I do hate how the freezing wind stings my nose and eyes…I think it shrunk my skull last Sunday. I had a headache all day after going out to the store for some milk, coffee and―

You see! I told you…becoming an addict already. Next you will start cooking for guests from boxes and put chocolate chips in everything. Have you read the content of their so-called low fat creamer? Liquid sugar, I tell you.

I use half and half with real sugar in my coffee by the way. Why do I bother to explain myself to you. Lord? Hallo Lord? Please make this stop!

What about all those hungry people living on the streets without any food to eat while you stuff perfectly edible left-overs down the garbage disposal?

Shut up, I want to speak to God now…Yes, Lord. Hallo?…Can you help me get away from here…would you please show me the beach in Stilbaai again…I want to feel the boat going over the swells toward the ocean…rocking me to sleep.

nearness

End of the week.

Exhaustion.

Ten days from now I begin my three day journey to reach our family beach-house facing the Indian Ocean.

After crossing eight time zones I hope to regain enough of my faculties to make a mug of Earl Grey tea, open the glass sliding door, inhale the salty ocean air as I step out toward the tiled stoep and find a seat with my feet crossed on top of the wooden balustrades.

Sitting down with my legs stretched out in front of me, represent complete contentment.

Nothing to hide or fear or worry about.

Knowing that God is in control.

Marise, my pseudo kid-sister who grew up three houses up the street from my childhood home, sent me these pictures of her unborn daughter who is scheduled to arrive on my birthday in February 2006. Inside this womb, beats a tiny heart with God’s fingerprints all over it. Divine intentions for her skills and dreams one day.

Yesterday joined Thanksgiving 2005 as the best day of my life in the US to date. I can not remember a day in which I had laughed so much and felt so aware of God smiling over me. Tasting life in its fullness.

Today I realized again that wisdom and faith is about taking one day at a time. Being healthy enough to get up and do what I planned to get done without being physically dependent on somebody helping me eat, dress or walk. Having enough food and drink for this day and being surrounded by enough friends to feel loved for today. God is sufficient.

Even with finals looming and assignments due...through zombie moments when my brain stalls from sleep-deprivation and I stare out ahead in the middle of having a conversation...

People may ask me: “How are you doing?”

I can still answer: “Well indeed.”

God is near.

lioness

Appearing oblivious, I hear the leaves move under the caress of the wind. Yellow hairs tremble in its breath.
Squinting against the bright light, I keep my head down, yet fully focused on my objective.
Soothing their young, my sisters lull together, affectionately they look out for one another.
I watch the horizon.
Alone.

Thundering declarations of their conquered boundaries grow louder for weeks on end―still no sight of them.
In this lair we draw blood, we nurture, we age.
Scarred muscles and torn skin testify to painful pasts however, perfection comes through practice.
I sense him draw closer.
Soon.

My evaporated gene-pool hinges on extinction―much depends on the Alpha male’s success.
In exchange for his consent, I keep this pride, I raise his clan, I find purpose.
He protects my hunting grounds while I exert all I have for his sake.
Abiding by the rules of engagement, though he must initiate the meal.
I wait.


Together we rule his defended territory while I endure this seasonal separation.
Protecting purring sucklings, I will kill my own kind if I must.
Approaching paws. Instinctively I prepare to pounce. Long awaited reunion delights in his familiar scent.
Fluffy cubs grunt and play, tugging at his fearsome mane always in my view.
Content and surrendered.

Different scenery, foreign sounds, unexpected obstacles try my endurance. I stay strategically ensnared.
Adapted to this landscape now, I lay down my expectations. I welcome help but remain self-reliant, alert.
Repeated patterns settle my status among the females, occasionally still aggressive under threat.
Unretractable clauses rip free from bloodied tissue―wounded by careless words.
Survival of the meekest.