Sara Arizona » Stories

Gift From a Friend

Sara Fryd — Thu, 23 Jun 2011 18:11:02 +0000

I got polka-dotted today, at the park

Under the clouds

Next to the ducks eating bread

Next to the pale lavender brown egret

that came for a visit.

I’ve never been polka-dotted

Before this morning

Before Rachael showed me how.

What wonder what delight

these 26 letters bring me;

how they tumbleweed

through my brain

over my knuckles

and out my fingers.

What joy to receive such a gift

Such a gift from a beautiful friend

The gift of a verb,

all wrapped up on azalea colored paper

mine to hold and share

whenever I want.

Juncture

Sara Fryd — Sat, 11 Jun 2011 18:11:00 +0000

Here…

Between adolescence and womanhood

lies a bridge, a crossing over

an opaque, murky, slow moving river

cutting through tall rocks with striped

layers of dark rust and pale blush light

Whose banks are filled with cottonwoods,

towering sliver dollar eucalyptus,

and hiding places for feelings

heavy as rocks.

Prickly thistle hurt your palms

like an occasional wayward boy

your heart.

Dandelions ride the wind

on tall grasses green as emerald gems

landing on newly discovered spotted puppies

left alone hiding near the shore.

Adolescence…

holding ropes in lieu of wooden slats

with tight fingers, dark painted nails

tentative, unsure, crossing slowly

moving planks, unnerving to the soul

from baby girl to child to teenager to woman

the child in yellow flowers turns toward the light

“Mama, Mama help me,” she cries with wondrous eyes.

Wistfully turning…

the beautiful woman waits with outstretched arms

knowing, I cannot help, I cannot venture back

across the bridge

the present does not permit return

except in dreams.

Life, my life, my future yet unexplored, unknown

whispering faintly with anticipation

when courage takes me willingly

now in this moment, across the bridge…

Nothing to Prove

Sara Fryd — Tue, 17 May 2011 18:11:31 +0000

You had nothing to prove

To me…

It was love at first sight

How could you not love that face

Blond hair, piercing blue eyes, wearing red

Be still my heart…

Wrote you a poem on your birthday

Which I left amongst the papers

On that big desk

“The biggest desk in the building,”

You reminded me smiling.

“Bigger than the President’s!”

Another story, another lunch

In a yellow bug convertible with the top down

I thought…

I was the luckiest girl in Orange County

You wore your new black cashmere coat

You kept on the special wooden hanger

On the back of the door.

You always thought you had something to prove

Not to me, though to yourself

To feel you had finally arrived.

The need to climb Mt Everest

And you did, and you have

You have proved it all

Said goodbye to the naysayer forever

Just so you know

You never had to prove anything

Not to me…

I always wanted to call you Jimmy

Though I always called you Jim.

You Meet No Strangers

Sara Fryd — Wed, 19 Jan 2011 07:11:48 +0000

They arrive like dreams in the night

Or angels in a storm

When your car breaks down in knee deep snow

In the emergency lane along side the highway

They help answer prayers

The bartender, the Circle K clerk with the loan of a pen

With advertising on the side and phone numbers

In case you are desperate for a dentist or an attorney

They breathe a little life into your soul

Permit your heart to rest easier

When they offer you a cup of Trader Joe’s coffee

New Orleans style, with chicory and real cream at 8:30 am

When hurry is the only emotion in an already emotional day

And a bite of pumpkin loaf with cinnamon walnuts

Can make everything right with the world

Like the waitress that’s so proud of her waffles

She adds colored sprinkles atop your child’s whip cream

When it’s not on the menu

They show up with smiles in their eyes and don’t look away

They hug you when loneliness prevails taking the edges off life

Rounding out the corners a bit

So tiny a bit no one might notice

I don’t always remember their names, nor do I smile back at

These angels who wash away the pains of life, of longing

But, I know one when I’ve met one and I say “Thank you God!”

For the one who has been on her feet all day

Still working another hour or more before she can clock out

There are angels everywhere you look, everywhere you go

Be an angel…

Say “thank you for your efforts.”

Flash someone you don’t know a heartfelt smile

Look directly in their eyes when they look into yours, don’t look away

And remember there’s a grandmother in Texas that might just say

“You meet no strangers,” about you.

*For my waitress at the bar at the Olive Garden on Craycroft & Broadway. When I walked in today at 3 pm for breakfast/lunch/dinner since I had forgotten to eat all day – which is in itself a miracle. Whom I left a huge tip for treating me like royalty and bringing me excellent coffee because I was shaking from my sugar low; and for Chikita Davis from Houston, Texas whose grandmother told her to tell me that I meet no strangers on Waikiki.