Tag Archives: gratitude

A Beautiful, Ordinary Day


Grass was cut, four loads of laundry washed,
folded and tucked away, the dog was walked,
bills paid, errands run, three pharmacies phoned,
rugs vacuumed, Deebot dismantled and cleaned
and reassembled but still stubbornly suction-free,
workout completed, dinner cooked,
kitchen tidied, and children chatted up.

No illnesses or injuries and trips
to the emergency room, no awful news,
no meltdowns, no car trouble, no impossible
gauntlet of a schedule to try and maneuver,
no wasted time in circular phone menus,
no unpleasant encounters, no regrettable
food or fashion choices made, no puppy
accidents to clean up, no doctor’s
appointments or lab work drawn,
not one single thing was broken
– physically or emotionally.

Day 19


Make It Count


Every miserable day
and good one
near the water
or in a hospital
I try
I try
I try
My manta of gratitude
for functioning legs and serotonin uptake
quiet moments
and every last hug
for a soundtrack
and friendship
and good enough health
for those I love to make it to sunset
then sunrise
Chaos and uncertainty
are too tight socks
pinching circulation
and leaving deep ruts
but limbs intact
if a tad blue
When I manage to roll them off
a more seamless state slowly returns
The heart relentless
doing its work

NaPoWriMo Day 27

The Next



Sunday, 11:37 AM

Surrounded by light,
we sang

Across the Universe
“Nothings going to change my world.”
And I left the room serene,
hopeful I could pocket the joy,
nibble at it all week.

Sunday, 1:48 PM

Surrounded by pediatric cancer survivors,
we sang
a song written by a camper
thanking donors for their support.
And I left the room anxious,
frustrated that children must suffer so,
my pocket nearly empty.

Sunday, 4:16 PM

Surrounded by bird song
I write
about what it’s like
to raise a child with a critical illness.
How you learn to only inhabit the moment,
survive all the ongoing pain
by belly flopping enthusiastically

into every pool of happy.

April 2015
Julie Ayers

NaPoWriMo Day 12





I am heart on thin, imperfect legs, barely managing to remain upright because of the weight of affection I carry.  I am longing and present and curse and laughter and hurt, exuberance and tenderness, disappointment…solace, reward, price, reckoning, chapter and volume, journey, destination.  I am costly.  Irreplaceable.  Replaced already.  Silenced.  Memory.

I am was.

I am


Julie Ayers
NaPoWriMo Day 23




I didn’t care that the pee was red.
It was still urine
slipping through the catheter line
and gathering
in the bag clipped to the rail of her hospital bed.
Not yellow.
confetti-ed with clots of blood,
A liquid answer from the transplanted kidney.
Sunrise in plastic.
Another day
holding the promise
of more.

January 2014
Julie Ayers