Cliff Cave: A Tale of Two Seasons

 

indian cave

in the earthen floor

the stone tools they once used

 

Today, “Indian Cave,” is also known as Cliff Cave, the largest known cavern in St. Louis County. The Osage still consider this area to be sacred ground.

 

I had my first encounter with Cliff Cave during a July summer. The heat spell had been going on for 15 days. We had no air-conditioning. Our Sunday prayers for snow went unanswered.

 

box fan

the whir of humidity

encircles us

 

We were all ready to snap. Dad decided enough was enough. He told my sister and me to get in the car.

 

windows rolled down

the sound of skin sticking

to leather seats

 

Even though the sun was setting, temps were still in the 90s. We dreaded every stoplight. Finally, we reached Cliff Cave Road.

 

a sense of relief

the arch of trees

shading our journey

 

It was the perfect prelude to the cave. Dad found a turnout. We drank luke-warm water from a thermos and took our flashlights. The trail was steep and rocky in places.

 

searching for stability

I keep sliding backwards

in my tennis shoes

 

There’s a sudden change in the air when we reach the mouth of the cave. It’s like being near a river when it’s dark. We stayed near the entrance. Dad said it would be too easy to get lost if we went any further.

 

every now and then

a cold rain

from the cave’s ceiling

 

An hour past sunset, we left the cave. The warmth of the summer night felt good. Maybe we would sleep tonight. Maybe it would rain.

 

Today, Cliff Cave is a county park. The cave itself is closed to the public. Even so, it’s good to walk on the same trails I used to hike with my family.

 

autumn

the oaks and hickories

welcome me back

Wildflower Walk

The Eastern Redbud. From a distance, most of them look purple. 

spring patterns

the forsythia and redbud

blooming together

This spring was different. There were several cold snaps including an April snowstorm. Magnolias, forsythias, serviceberries, and even dogwoods flowered before the redbuds.

fluctuating seasons

it's hard to know what

to plant when

At Shaw Nature Reserve, there are several White Eastern Redbuds. I went there five times before I saw them in bloom.

wildflower garden

everywhere I walk

I'm at peace with myself

 

The White Eastern Redbud 

There are so many messages on social media that most of them never catch my attention. The post I saw on LinkedIn was an exception. 

It was an article about the New Zealand Parliament voting unanimously to provide three days of paid leave for women and their partners after a miscarriage or stillbirth. 

My first question is, “What took so long for any country to recognize this?"

My next thought was three days is not long enough. I also think grief counseling should be included. 

Unless you've been through a miscarriage, you don't know how traumatic this is.

 

The Code of Silence

 

When I had my miscarriage, there were no social media outlets. I’m not sure any of the sites would have helped me.

 

on a cold, starless night

friends and random strangers

giving me tips on how

to get over it

 

My husband and I picked out names. We made preparations.

 

boy or girl

the train light

with its new lampshade

 

I could feel the baby. It was like the flutter of butterflies that we sometimes get when we are excited about something. Or afraid of it. 

 

waning summer

the spots of blood

that I can’t explain

 

My doctor ordered bed rest. No going up or down steps. Since that wasn’t possible at home, I stayed with my parents. 

I passed the time reading books or listening to baseball games. Last year, the Cardinals had won the World Series.

 

Steve Carlton pitches

his 300^th win

every year’s another chance

 

Bed rest didn't help. The bleeding increased. By 2 am, I was hemorrhaging. I didn’t want to wake my parents. 

 

september loss

it’s fear that drives

my silence

 

I fell on the bathroom floor. My mom heard me or maybe I screamed. There are parts that I don’t remember.

 

blank spaces of time

the harsh white

of hospital lights

 

My doctor came in. He said the baby couldn’t be saved. He told me to think of it as a blob that never fully formed. It was nature’s way of taking care of it. 

 

grieving parents

there are some things no one

should ever say

 

I never received counseling. Shortly after my miscarriage, I went back to work. 

A co-worker asked me, “How far along are you? You don’t even look pregnant.”

I told him I lost my baby. He didn’t know what to say except that he was sorry. A hush followed me wherever I went. 

It made me feel more isolated than I have ever felt in my life.

 

unmarked grave

the code of silence

that surrounds each death

 

There were plenty of classes for expectant mothers on how to breathe during labor, all the advantages of breastfeeding, and what to do after the child arrives. 

If there were training manuals on how to deal with miscarriages, no one ever offered me one. Instead, my husband and I embarked on the journey toward healing alone. 

During my second pregnancy, I worried the entire time that I would lose this baby, too. I couldn’t go through it again.

 

changing seasons

no two pregnancies

are alike

 

When I was first able to hold my son after he was born, it was a bittersweet moment. I would never stop loving the son that I held now. I would never stop loving the child that I lost.

We Are The Abusers

Abuse takes many forms. It's a growing pandemic. We are not only the victims of abuse, we are also the abusers. 

April 22nd is Earth Day and every single one of us has abused this planet we call home. 

plastic air every day we wrap ourselves in denial

February 2021

Eight inches of snow. Single-digit temperatures. Short breaths of conversation.

Next to the house there was a thin strip of ground where the snow had melted.

a collage of time in the ragged leaves

Near the wall sat two robins. We thought about taking a photo but any sudden movement on our part might cause them to fly away. 

conserving energy 

the birds save their songs

for another day