In Celebration of the Furniture Year By Michelle Garren-Flye
On that morning twenty-nine years ago, I wanted to be a princess so much I shouted my beliefs loud enough to drown lingering doubts
and stormy weather that took the helium right out of the balloons, so the wind sounded like Daffy Duck and my pink and yellow and blue spheres hung flaccid
by the sign announcing our nuptials, and it was too late for real daffodils, so I made do with false ones, mixed with daisies and mournful white roses
and still I have no regrets because for at least twenty-five of those years I did believe I was a princess, or at least as good as a mom of three who lost her figure in the war can be,
and I have been awarded all these badges for my courage, and my ambition now is to deserve them, which I do, much more than I did on that morning twenty-nine years ago.
Photo and poem copyright 2024 Michelle Garren-Flye
I used to panic whenever I’d draw the Death card from a Tarot deck. How could that possibly be a good thing? Even if it’s just the end of something, if it’s the end of something good, it’s gonna suck.
That’s why we as humans tend to celebrate beginnings. Birthdays, wedding anniversaries, the New Year. But we don’t really acknowledge that with every new beginning, something ended. The carefree life of a non-parent, the single life, the old year.
Today I pay respect to an ending in my life by celebrating what it was and what it brought me. It’s bittersweet, but I know that this is a new beginning, too. I’m ready for what’s ahead.
Let’s go.
Loop
By Michelle Garren-Flye
You left me once in the middle of a rainstorm,
I was tying my shoe, concentrating on each loop, and you
took the umbrella and wandered away
because something else caught your eye.
I finished my task
but I was soaked to the skin
and even though you gave me my own umbrella,
I never really forgave you for taking ours.
I doubt I ever will.
I’ll bring it up at family gatherings
and every anniversary
as if you could go back and change it,
hold the umbrella steady above me.
Turn back the clock
because without that,
the end will never change.
I haven’t shared anything here in a while because I’m working hard on 100 Warm Days of Haiku. And my daughter thinks I share too much of my books before they’re published. She’s not wrong. It’s a delicate balance sharing enough to intrigue you but not enough to make it not worth your while to buy the book when it comes out. However, today is my 26th wedding anniversary and I just drew a very romantic haiku. 🙂 So I thought I’d share it. Here, for your reading and viewing pleasure, is Haiku 52, which will be in my upcoming poetry book, !00 Warm Days of Haiku.
Poem and Illustration by Michelle Garren Flye. Copyright 2021.
Today is, in a very real way, a very big day for me. It’s my 25th wedding anniversary and the day I officially release my 18th book.
Thank you.
It’s hard to celebrate right now, as I have good reason to know. My 50th birthday fell right at the beginning of the Covid-19 crisis. My son and my daughter also have celebrated birthdays. Today I have no actual plans to celebrate. I once envisioned a busy day full of well wishing friends for both my book and my marriage. I mean, not as many people make it to their silver wedding anniversary as used to, right? And quite a few authors never see 18 books with their name on the front.
But celebrating is hard right now. People are still sick, still dying. I’m working hard to make sure I’m not one of them. I have nightmares that my family is. And life goes on.
And still, I am happy to announce the publication of my 18th book, Magic at Sea, the seventh book of my Sleight of Hand series (and still a standalone, so you can read it even if you haven’t kept up with the series!). And I am happier still to be married to the same wonderful man for twenty-five years. Rain or shine, we’ve had them both.
Rain or Shine
By Michelle Garren Flye
When did it rain?
I never heard thunder
Or wind or raindrops.
When did they fall?
It must have happened
Behind the scenes
While we were busy
Doing something else.
Something important.
Raising kids, living life,
Paying bills…surviving.
I didn’t know it rained.
Just like so many other
Things have happened
In the background.
It’s funny how you start:
Focused on each other,
Certain nothing will change.
But then it does.
Work and family and life
All change you.
And rain falls unnoticed
Until you see the puddles,
And then you notice the wet
And open an umbrella.
Happy anniversary to my patient, supportive, loving husband. Photo by Michelle Garren Flye
BREATHE: Michelle Garren-Flye 