Tuesday, October 18, 2011


When we first moved into the house we live now, there was an older lady who lived across the street. She had suffered with polio as a child and was confined to a wheelchair, but that didn't stop her from living.  One warm day, my kids and I were outside eating Popsicles and she was out watering her garden.  We took a Popsicle over to her and you'd have thought it was made of gold. I don't think she cared about the pop as much as the company. After that we spent more and more time getting to know her and she became our adopted "Grammy." She even signed birthday cards that way. When she passed away, we knew a member of our family had died.  Shortly after there was an estate sale, and as much as the trend these days is not to keep "stuff", sometimes items do have a meaning beyond their material value.


The cut crystal jar that was always filled
With a never-ending supply of mints,
You know, those red and white disc-shaped candies...
It was empty now, and I picked it up
Knowing the crowds of pickers had no clue
Of its real value, to me anyway.
The candy was gone, as gone as she was.
Standing in the midst of it all, I cried
Remembering the taste of peppermint
But only tasting the salt from my tears.

Caren E. Salas

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

What Counts...

Seven pills every morning,
Not including pain control
Four more pills to take at night,
Every week: three injections,
And two patches. Therapy,
Doctor visits, tests and labs.

Twenty-four hours, seven days,
A man who loves me, four kids
Call me "Mom". Two turtles, fish,
And my little dog, Whiskey.
If you ask, "Is it all worth it?"
I answer in one heartbeat.


Caren E. Salas

photo by William Salas

Thursday, October 6, 2011


Weightless fingers reach,
Touch, taste, beautiful and yet
Dangerous, clinging
To the rocks; it lives between
Salty sea and jagged shore.

A gentle slow dance
Swaying with the tide's constant
Ebbs and flows, living
Its life in the shallow pools
Unaware of my presence.

Caren E. Salas

Monday, October 3, 2011


Missed again.
One phone call too short
And a few
Minutes late.
Opportunities vanish
Til some other day.

Caren E. Salas