Personal Freedom is Vastly Over-rated.

I don’t mean the kind of political freedom that brave men and women are dying for right now, democracy (if such a thing exists), but freedom of choice on a much smaller scale.

I have much more personal freedom now that I no longer have the love of my life beside me,

I am free to live anywhere I choose to. I chose to move to Washington State to be near one of my sons and his dear wife, rather than being tied to Berkeley where Otto had been a professor for the greater part of our lives.

The Entrance to My New Home

I can decorate my new small home in whatever manner I choose. And I have done so, employing more green paint than most households use in a lifetime. I’ve filled it with dragons from many parts of the world, sculpted, cast, or otherwise crafted, and have done away with any clutter that is not self-generated. Gone are the plethora of electrical parts for Otto’s inventions, the piles of scientific papers being written or critiqued, the stacks of technical journals and books, the scattered tools for modeling new improvements of his patents or for making our big house more livable and beautiful. I love making home improvements but must leave it to others, volunteer or professional, since my talents and physical abilities preclude my doing it myself. But I have enough money to be free to have it done.

A Few of My Dragons

I now have the freedom to spend the inheritance that Otto left me on my personal choices, free of the constraints that are imposed by a partnership that tries to meet the needs of two people. Due to that same inheritance, I am free of most of the economic worries of the majority of people.

And you know what? I would gladly trade that kind of freedom for one more moment with Otto beside me.


And, now that I have written this response to the Sunday Scribblings prompt of Free, I find that I am not free of tears.

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I is for Interspecies Interaction

Mrs. Nesbitt's ABC Wednesday has reached I of the eighth round. For other entries, click on link or on badge at left, and it will lead you to participating blogs.

When we were way back at B, I posted something called Elegant Bears, which my son incorporated into a poster for his and wife Kristin's monthly Waltz Night, which they host and for which they and occasional guests provide the music, on violin (Kristin) and concertina or guitar (Otto) and on whatever instruments invited guest musicians prefer. His advertising posters have always incorporated this great impressionist painting of a dancing couple. It was my idea to add the bears. I decided that the next (April) poster should not leave each species on its own. In the friendly setting of the dance floor, it would be only polite for them to exchange dances. Hence these drawings.

She really isn't quite sure of this
especially after smelling bear breath,
but one has to be polite, doesn't one?

He, on the other hand,
finds his partner an excellent dancer
and is teaching her some intricate steps.

Raw

Intransigence

Take this hideous razored grief
so sharp in every part,
its spines all tipped with poison
and pointed at your heart.

Muffle it with music,
rub it down with prayer,
thrust it out and close the door,
pretend it isn’t there.

Watch closely, though, for treachery
when handling it tomorrow;
a grief is very hard to tame
into a decent sorrow.

Phyllis Sterling Smith

See other responses by Sunday Scribblers to the prompt of RAW.