waiting
keeping watch
searching
scanning horizons
i didn’t realize
that i was looking
for you all my life
waiting
for our
once upon a time
to begin
when i saw you
i ran to meet
you on the shore
of our journey
after all these years
i now know
i would choose to wait
and let a thousands tides
come and go
and let the lonely time
pass me by
if it meant
i could be near you
hear you say my name
yes i would
search for you
night and day
and
wait
this voyage called life
a perilous quest
under storms at night
and bright mornings of peace
living out vows
that we said
when we were kids
you’re still choosing to stay
beside me
i’m still choosing to stay
beside you
across all the wild wild seas
that are behind us
we found treasures
a guiding grace
that will lead us
a slower pace
that will ground us
a grateful space
that settles our minds
navigating
these later years
we get to wait
together
love
together
sitting here
with you
waiting here with you
remembering here
with you
we wait
for one day
the journey will end
until then
we get to wait
together
love
together
be
together
and in the waiting
practice staying
come what may
you’re still choosing to stay
beside me
i’m still choosing to stay
beside you
we
wait
would like to see a few things stay
the untroubled giggles of a child
a sunset that kaleidoscopes for hours
an embrace that fills my heart with peace
a haunting melody that sinks into my soul
and reminds me that there is love
would like to see a few things stay
the knowing when our eyes connect
the crashing waves and their rhythmic balm
the birdsong soaring through the sad sky
colors leaping from a flower
spilling on my heavy brow
reminding me that there is life
would like to see a few things stay
a tree that shades me from all harm
a crystal river of understanding
shadows stretching through deep green woods
the Light that helps me see the Way
a hand to hold that guides through the pain
reminding me that someone’s there
to share a lonely road
oh stay with me
lover of my soul
let me see
the calm before
i lose myself
nowhere to go
the words of life
spoken long ago
an anchor for
an old old soul
reminding me
that You are here
in the mess
in my tears
reminding me
that
You
are
rest
sitting with my mom
the years that surround her are so long
she is reflecting and pondering
telling stories and wondering
and this is what she had to say
— all my siblings have passed away
but you can’t cry all the time
you have to laugh
you have to think
love is so simple
and sometimes you
don’t realize it’s there —
and my dad brings her flowers
the hours of another day
slowly pass away
my dear mom
so far from the world she once knew
i’ll try and remember
to let the tears speak
and the laughter sing
and I’ll wonder and ponder
and try to remember
for my remaining days
to see the love before me
and then give it away
We (my wife and I) are grateful to be back in the hometown that we grew up in on Long Island. My parents still live in the house I was raised in, so coming home is always filled with nostalgia and the telling of old stories and discovering new memories.
It is rare to visit Long Island and not go to the beach to take pictures, but the weather has been dark, rainy, and windy. More like a blustery day in November from a Winnie the Pooh story than springtime in New York.
So, since walking through torrential cold rain along the shore did seem to have its drawbacks, I decided to take pictures of my home and found myself drawn to the… well… probably thousands of… knickknacks? Home decor items?… that are just… everywhere. I suddenly realized that my childhood home is like living in the pages of an “I Spy” book.
I am quite sure that Better Homes and Gardens (is that magazine still around?) would not feature this home in an article on “How to Decorate Your Home with 1,000 Little Things” or “The Latest Home Decor Trend: I Spy Living.” But I sure had fun finding little treasures on this Winnie the Pooh blustery day.
Retrobox! How cool is that? And tiny Santa pants, and a snow covered cottage, and – this is one of the themes in my home and life – “Coffee please.” Coffee, in case you are wondering, is the fountain of youth. Just ask my mom who is about to turn 97.
Music is another theme in my home. My dad would play energetic Puerto Rican (another theme) beats in a Spotify-less world where the radio host would announce the next song or two by completing a string of basically slurred Spanish words delivered at the speed of sound with a hearty, “LA SALSA!”
Jesus is another… not a theme… I would say a presence in my home. Reverence… spiritual interest and pursuit was imprinted on my heart in my growing up years. I am grateful for how that influence shaped me.
The deepest, most precious, immeasurable treasure in my home is love. This is my bride embracing my mom when we arrived in the evening. Moments like these adorn this home. It was not a perfect home. It has known heartache and sorrow. But at the center of a thousand knickknacks is a story of love… warmth… family… a wordless embrace… love.
blue skies
dancing with the sea
on the far horizon
i can see
the wild waves
searching for the shore
searching with me
for so much more
than i can see
blue skies
there is no outer space
through the universe
we race
let’s just pause
let’s just wait
listen
close
our
eyes
beneath these
blue blue skies
i dream
i dance
i lift my soul
to You
this longing
for peace
and relief
from all the toil inside
identity relies
and lies outside
with You
i surrender my ID
to You
beneath
these blue blue skies
i’m safe
with You
This is the third and last post from a visit to the Kings Park Psychiatric Center with my brother on a recent trip back to New York. While walking the grounds we came upon this wall that appeared to be the remains of some kind of outdoor gathering place. (?)
The textures were fascinating here. And those trees! Just incredible how they found life, water and sustenance through the brick and stone.
On the left side was a small storage room (?) guarded by a fallen tree that we were hoping was the opening of a tunnel.
This is the 2nd of 3 posts from a recent trip back home to New York. My brother invited me to explore the abandoned Kings Park Psychiatric Center. The psychiatric center was built on 800 acres of land. We only explored a tiny portion of the property and its buildings. This post focuses more on the incredible artwork that is very much a part of this abandoned landscape.
On a recent trip back home to New York my brother invited me to hike some trails on the north shore of Long Island and visit the abandoned King’s Park Psychiatric Center. He encouraged me to bring my camera – glad I did. The sprawling campus of this abandoned facility is something to behold. It is fascinating to see so many old buildings and realize they were filled with patients and all kinds of professional and support personnel. A Google search will return the sad, tragic saga of this facility. This is Building 93. It is much more ominous than these images reveal.
i suppose
that when
in your 90’s
that the road
behind you
has more to tell
than the road ahead
and instead of the worry
and the hurry
to get
where you thought
you should be
you listen to
that long long road
i hear my mom
as she walks that road
and stops along the way
she pauses and wonders
what can she say
to give thanks to God
for her family
what can she say
to give thanks to God
for all the love
that surrounded
her journey
in one story
she laments her losses
then as the tears are flowing
a moment comes to the surface
and suddenly she laughs
sorrow harmonizes with joy
laughter sings with tragedy
but still
still gives thanks
and on that road
she remembers
all the gifts
without number
that she has shared
with family
with friends
now she’s tired
her most frequent visitor
is pain
here eyes are dim
but her voice
doesn’t wane
as she skips down that road
picking memories
like a beautiful rose
she holds in her hands
the important things
that somehow
we forget
but she knows
and her wisdom falls
like sweet silver snow
on the hearts
of all who listen
bringing light
and it just glistens
in your soul
she recalls the years
with pride
and with deep lament
she speaks
of her mom and dad
her sisters
her brothers
with thankfulness
carried by her tears
she speaks of their love
so
much
love
there is a power
in her spirit
that pays no attention
to her age
or the sheer exhaustion
of each day
her diminished frame
is a sanctuary
of strength
and love
i hope i have passed along
the smallest portion
of her love to my family
for even a fragment
of that love
would fill the world
would flood a soul
would help mend the wounds
we all carry
thank you mom
for speaking truth
for remembering to laugh
for lamenting all the sadness
for all your love
so
much
love
Back on Long Island visiting my elderly parents, which means a visit and long walk along the shore at Jones Beach. Temperatures in the 40’s, and breezy, but a gorgeous day!
rutakintome pictures 
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