The Happy Gift of a Delighted God

A Biography Made Possible by
Unlikelies and Improbables

I forgot to say thank you, Steps that
know my feet. For just a moment I
was unaware of being grateful that
you didn’t crumble at my weight or
open up and let me fall into some
not-apparent-from-above dark shaft
that might— though it’s unlikely I
admit but then a tick spent on
remembering will buy a boatload of
unlikelies, a great many more
improbables with just enough
impossibles thrown in to constitute
a whole biography— be lying
underneath the sod that hides the
fragile crust, be wide enough for
such a body as is mine, and slice
through all the strata to the hot
ferrous core of the planet.

Well, there you have it. Short story
long, it satisfies me to report the
sidewalk, lawn, and steps and
geologic layers I forget the names of
held me in the sky again. Such
benefits should not be taken lightly
when entire nations tread uneasily
on acres of swiss cheese covered
with a tissue, land mines hidden in
its shallow indentations, people
venturing upon remote paths and
fallow farmland fearfully if they go
anywhere at all. Well, it’s unlikely
that my daughter’s yard conceals
explosives, it’s improbable that
bombs are ticking in the cellar, one
less thing to fret about and so we
get to be a little bit upset about
plaintain among the fescue or
whatever. (Let me recommend the
use of vinegar instead of herbicide
or better yet a kettle full of boiling
water which won’t harm the other
growing stuff nearby.)

Is it so little, not succumbing to the
force of gravity, not becoming Alice
underground, not encountering a
tardy rabbit one might feel obliged
to chase as one approached the
door and thank you God and keepers
of the peace for that and warriors
and heroes too with reasons we’ve
forgotten not to keep it... not to
mention subatomic particles that
whip about their minuscule universe
at speeds with miles of zeros
somehow keeping molecules and
moons, what we call matter,
seeming solid? Is it worth emotion,
tears, and trembling to be still
intact after a mere kilometer’s
journey? Probably... as millions
might attest who hide with rare
success from scary guys with guns,
fanatics with a mission they’re
convinced is holy straight from
heaven, close enough at any rate,
come via their commander so-and-so,
the biggest fellow with the
largest weapon. Safe for now from
him I go into the cheering
lamplight; what I find illuminated
ought to take my breath away if I
had not been sated by this time
with gratefulness, and it is this:

Blessed recognition. I am like poor Lili
from the town of Mira; everybody
knows my name and they have come
to celebrate with such a smooth and
leave-you-feeling-cozy Cabernet
and Mama’s Pizza, eating,
chattering with family and friends
it’s been too long since gathered
thus in easy conversation.




Donald Zolan, Twins Kissing

I walk past a group of children. One says
that’s my grandmother with pride
of ownership. Well, and haven’t I
been lonely for that child’s voice,
missed being Mitch’s with the
emphasis on that apostrophe and S?
And so I change my destination from
the kitchen to the den and sit down
on the floor and play with Legos,
Barbies, children’s toes and noses,
let them style my hair with tiny
combs and make them say with
tummy pokes and tickles how
adorable and smart and funny
Grandma and Great-Auntie is and
wonder, how can this be ought but
the happy gift of a delighted God?

We haven’t any rights, you know.
It’s icing, all of it, that the inanimate
behaves itself and that my daughter
makes a life of love and difference
for she was born to be magnificent
defying entropy whereas the dust,
not being sentient, does what it
does swept up by wind and with no
reason to do otherwise falls
down again

Offered gratefully November 12, 2010