Adjusting to life's changes with hope… through poetry, haiku, and commentary

The Sand in My Sandal


A doctor dentist week. A blur,
with hard rain today that stands
in the streets.

Decided on home for lunch instead
of stopping for cheap Chinese.
A bagel that was on top of the
fridge for over a week was still
okay. Chicken, salami, provolone,
and some Dijon, too.

Cleaned up a few large radishes and
put them on the side. Not enough
time to enjoy a cup of tea. Then, it
was time to go.

On my way to my mid-afternoon oil
change, a hot desert sun burned
away the clouds. I parked, walked
in, and after a little chit-chat at the
counter, my car was checked in.

I pulled out a paperback that was
well over one thousand pages. It
was a thick James Michener book.
Well, all his books are thick.

It was the same one I read over
forty years ago. A few months ago
I looked for it on-line as I feared
it might be out of print and I longed
to go back there again. I wanted to
thumb the pages with my hand, smell
the book, feel the book.

This morning as I prepared to go
to the doctor’s, I thought it best
to bring a book. This was the
application of my no book-long wait,
long book-no wait theory.

As I started to read where I left off
this morning, I stopped hearing the
phone calls and mechanic talk.

It was 1964. I had just stepped out
of a jeep at the base of Tell Makor
in Israel. I was home. I’ve never
been there, but I was home again.

“Sir, your car is ready.”

I closed the book and stood up.
I shook my foot and banged it on the
floor. The clerk must have thought my
foot fell asleep.

The clerk would never know it was the
Holy Land. It was the sand in my sandal
and a deep longing in my heart.

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