Tuesday, December 21, 2010


by K. Mossinghoff

as in gone-in-a 
the place where time stops
a smile 
a sister that blinks

can I tell what that was
that flew past my eyes 
a bird, a plane
not superman, well maybe

the space between then 
and now 
the shock of waking up 
out of a bad dream

the time on vacation
or the naked butt of a child 
on the beach 
or not a child, but naked

the blinding glow 
of a celestial body
that seemed to move
and draw a crowd to a stable

the span of a young man’s life 
gone so quick 
thousands of years ago
and we still do not understand

the time that it takes to live
and to breathe the real air 
the movie of a life on fast forward
in the last seconds between here

and there. 
hold it. say cheese.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Finding myself or at least my glasses

The notion of finding oneself always seemed funny to me as a child.  Why don’t people just look in a mirror?, I thought.  Not such a bizarre idea. How can you find yourself when  you are always there, inside the body, the vessel that holds together your innards? At mid-life, the vessel I call my body doesn’t look so familiar. I don’t take very long looks like I once did.  As a child I spent hours making faces or practicing hairstyles or glopping green eye shadow and mascara to try to look older. There’s a foreign concept.. trying to look older.  
I need glasses now to read and I rarely have them on when I am getting ready for the day. In fact, right now I can’t locate any of the four pair that I own...
I get a shock now and then when I do have them on and really see the crevasses forming on my face and the drooping of the skin on my neck. Then I take them off and feel and look better..  I don’t worry about it too much and I’ve never been a very fussy person about my appearance (except in high school when I HAD to have the Calvin Klein jeans and wore giant rollers in my hair for an hour at a time to straighten my hair.)
Luckily, my husband’s eyesight is much worse than mine and I feel that this works dramatically in my favor. I had thought about asking Santa for one of those light--up, magnifying mirrors for Christmas, but after testing a few at the mall recently, I decided I like the fuzzy, unlit version of me way better.
Maybe nature’s weakening of the eyesight works on other levels, too. Maybe I see more gray now and a little less black and white.  I like the perspective that aging gives me.  It was fun being young and stupid, but I like getting older and wiser. When I ‘find myself’ in the mirror I see a person that likes to laugh, loves her family and friends and wishes all people had a more blurry view of life.