A late blooming boomer

Hello, dear Medium readers and writers!

Well, that was easy but now for the hard part. Whenever I have to introduce myself, I always stumble. Who am I?

I grew up in north-central New York, where there are more cows than people. My hometown is very small, so small you often can’t find it on a map. Not only have people left over the years, but my hometown has also lost the few amenities I enjoyed during my childhood. It no longer has a post office, a school, a library, or a gas station. The post office was the last…

This mantra is beneficial for all ages

My day started off rainy, gray and cold, a bit unusual for this time of year in Florida. My clothes — black and gray — suited the day and my mood, but it was Thursday and so I ignored my mood and Zoomed into a yoga class at noon. The instructors for this yoga studio don’t often offer mantras to focus on during our breathing exercise but today’s instructor did.

Take a breath in, think to yourself “Just,” release your breath and think to yourself, “Let Go.” Inhale — Just. Exhale — Let Go. Inhale — Just. …

In memory of Wendy Bishop, poet and teacher, January 13, 1953 — November 21, 2003

They laid their hands side by side
She marveled
How much alike they were
She, full of life
The other, near death

The other near death
Burned bright
With beach-bleached hair
Sandy skin
A smile an ocean-wide

The other near death
Burned bright
And hummed through
Dot-matrix printers and laser jets

A low constant hum of life in words
Paper cascading from their mouths
Laid end to end they would circle the earth
Wrapping it tight like a silk girdle

The other near death
Burned bright
Writing more in her one-half-century
Than most could have written in two

The one…

How the beauty of nature slows time

My husband and I enjoy riding our bikes at the St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge in Florida. The refuge is about a 50-minute drive from our house and has 75 miles of trails. Our favorite trail for walking, when we were younger and had strong knees, is the 12-mile Deep Creek Trail. Since our knees and feet no longer want to walk those miles, we now ride our bikes and we cover more ground.

That time I found fairies in the forest

When I saw them, I immediately thought of Dennett. Dennett and I have a few things in common: love of words and photography, Florida residence, married to incredible men, age. Recently, Dennett wrote about finding painted rocks in and around her neighborhood.

So when I saw the figurines gracing an old downed tree on my favorite in-city walking trail, I thought of Dennett. And I wondered about the person or persons who had the creative spark to place these figurines and add a bit of magic to my walk.

I could not compete with the universe

Do you remember when you stopped loving me?
Was it when
you looked up into the night sky
and saw the brilliant stars,
the expanding universe,
the mysteries of the galaxies,
the endlessness of Time.

Was it when
you looked down into my eyes
and saw the faintest of light,
the boundaries of my soul,
the simpleness of my mind,
the finity of my existence.

You are drawn to the solitude of cool darkness,
not even wanting the moon as a companion.

You are pulled away by a gravity stronger
than your love for me ever was.

I wait, linger
at the border between light and dark,
ashamed of my insignificance.

I want to explode like a dying star,
my heart collapsing into a million black holes,
and then my gravitational pull
— my love —
will swallow you whole.

Maybe it’s time to live without mirrors

I no longer recognize the old woman in the mirror. Not too long ago (at least in my memory), she looked like this:

I’m writing this as much for me as for you.

When I officially and irrevocably retired from my state government job on March 5 of this year, I thought the floodgates would finally open. I am a writer. I’ve waited years to get to this point, where I would finally have the time to:

  • focus on my as-yet-unfinished novel, and the four other novels-in-waiting,
  • daily read several stories in Medium and on friends’ blogs,
  • write and submit essays, short stories, and poems to Medium publications, literary journals, and writing workshops,
  • continue my self-paced online course on iPhone photography which I started last summer but now will have to restart, and

Cancel culture and social media

Caveat: In this essay, I’m not writing about whistleblowers or calling out sexual predators. I’m not writing about efforts to counter hate speech or defuse potential violence. I’m writing about two wrongs making a big mess.

I have several social media accounts, some I use regularly, others not so much. As a writer, I’ve had it pounded in my head that I need to have a social media presence, a platform from which I can hawk the book that I haven’t finished writing yet. While struggling to finish said book, I support other writers by sharing their accomplishments, whether a…

Everyone can do this!

I am not a scientist. I don’t have a PhD or multi-page list of publications to scholarly journals. I don’t have a catalog of facts to prove my arguments. I’m just an ordinary citizen doing her small part to save the environment.

I pick up trash.

A few years ago I started picking up trash around a pond near my workplace. I enjoyed walking around the pond during my lunch break and taking photos of the turtles (or bathing beauties as I called them) that lined the pond. I didn’t like seeing the trash. The beer bottles and cans, soda…

Marie A Bailey

Life-long writer. Four-cat mama. Introvert who loves solitude. Fledgling nature photographer. You can also find me at https://1writeway.com.

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