Sometimes, the summer you're dealt with needs long trousers.

Sometimes, you are wise to carry an umbrella and pack wellies in the boot.
Sometimes, the only warmth you get is from friends and family and from a Father who knows what storms to expect.
Sometimes, the brightness you find is the kind you get from laughter, not sunshine.
Sometimes, you need a board game, and to put the bucket and ***** away for another day.

Sometimes, the summer you're dealt with needs those long trousers Dad said to pack.

Dad knows.

Prayer, you say?

Is that a hail Mary or the Magnificat?
Is that a whisper or something louder?
Is that a lone voice or a chorus?
Is that free jazz
or are you leaning on liturgy?

Today, it will have to be jazz.

(A person known by one name)

There's a place for gifting a name
One to be known and addressed by
One to answer by
One that speaks of family
One to be adopted and sometimes adapted
But one to affirm from birth.

There's a place for picking up a name
One given casually, possibly accidentally
One like Ace and Rock, Smarts and Giggles
One that captures a grain of the truth of you.

There's no place for names given in distain,
names of derision, laced with hatred,
names to reject, even if stated in jest.
There's no need to repeat these here.

Ultimately, there's a perfect place
for a secret name, known only
to you and your beloved,
given in a moment of tenderness,
given in a language of love,
given to say you belong.

A name to be whispered
in the quiet of eternity.

One name worth waiting for.

It's about balance -
about choice.
It's about consideration, honest
exploration of options
(and having courage enough
to risk infractions).

It's about precision,
about tenacity -
the capacity for patience
and acceptance of perhaps
having to start afresh.

How do you want to fill the silence?
After the tears, after the condolences,
after her friends have gone,
when all you have is the space
around you, you are left with the choices.

How do you want to live?
How do you want to fill
the silence she has left?

To her silence you might first add stillness.
To this select stillness you may then layer quiet.
To that chosen quiet you could perhaps
add the season found in the calm
company of those who remain
trustworthy. And then you may be better
equipped to harness the base silence,
and train it towards a distant hope.

I’m waiting more, enjoying more
of the space between -
words, notes, breaths -
the space I don’t need
to step into, giving it up
for another.

I’m watching more, listening for
what comes next.
Not anticipating but enjoying
the not-yet.

Who knows?
God may speak again.

I hold your hand a little longer
for a deeper reflection.
a needed consideration
of the leaving,
of what I take,
of what I leave
and how I want
to say goodbye.