IT IS ONLY NOW THAT I CAN GO THERE
Suzanne Lehmkuhl-Beste

it is only now that i can go there, those dark places

it was 2001, night driving on the 101
a bend in the road and then headlights straight on
in an instant, life so sure became
tenuous and fragile
oh my babies, my darling babies,
girl baby of one year and another unborn

i swerved the car,
tossed weightlessly by the 18-wheeler,
like the tumbleweeds so prevalent here
the contents of a life strewn like litter on the highway
darkness, piercing lights and silence, bent and sobbing,
arms cradling my belly and my sleeping baby...


my third baby was barely one when he left us
but no, he left me long before,
the untouchable always bent
two steps behind him to pick up the pieces
only this time, it was my life lay in pieces at my feet

and three little ones clung to me as if to life itself

if it weren't for Mother, Sister,
and the women who closed in around me
to pick up the pieces
who got me out of bed some days
who knew when to put the drink in my hand
and when to take it away
who bathed me
who knew when to let me cry
and when to say "enough"
who were my eyes and ears
who cradled me as the lawyers and judges
decided the fate of my children


there were the small kindnesses that moved me immeasurably
a made bed emerging from a tumbled mass of sheets
good food, wood stacked and brought inside
letters bringing chocolate bars,
books and wisdom and strength
turning over and over in my hands
errant trash cans and recycling bins tucked in

and there were great kindnesses too
myriad twinkling boxes that appeared under the tree
our first Christmas alone prompting my oldest to say
"wow, Mama, you MUST have been good!"
planes and cars bringing loved ones from afar

nature has its way and the soil turns under and grows hard
the winter is long here, cold and interminable
bright yellow daffodils are the first
to emerge through the snow and mud
unlike these, I chose to emerge from my dark places
or it's no life worth living


but i make a pilgrimage to those places, revering them
they will forever be a part of me
and from where i write now,
i feel a fondness for the darkness

for the joy born of it


CP

Suzanne Lehmkuhl-Beste, a native of California, currently lives on the shores of Lake Champlain in Burlington, Vermont, with her three young children, two cats, four newts, and six chickens. In her spare time she is a systems engineer, and in her not-so-spare time, she enjoys running, Telemark skiing, hiking, backpacking, and volunteering as a math and Spanish teacher.

Skating on the Lake
Suzanne Lehmkuhl-Beste

Well, it happened. For the first time since we moved here, there were perfect conditions for the lake to freeze as smooth and beautiful as glass. Young and old alike were out on the ice, ripping it up.

I played hooky from work this afternoon and took the kids to the lake. We got out the skates, hockey sticks and pucks. Not balls--what do I know about hockey? Even Cassie got on skates for the first time in her young life.

I'd never skated on "real" ice before. Sammy was more interested in the naturally occurring ice sculptures on the edge of the lake and he used his hockey stick to investigate those while Alida chased the boys around the ice.

Soon an older man started passing the puck with the kids. Between cradling Cassie, taking pictures, and tossing a stick for the dog, I overheard the man take a phone call. It sounded so important; he spoke about the Democratic Party, legislation, and other pressing concerns of the day.

I looked closer and saw it was Howard Dean, wearing an old hand-knit hat and rumpled cold weather gear. He had on beat-up skates and looked comfortable just being on the ice and playing with the kids, coaching them. He finished his call and hit the ice again, having a blast with the kids. Then he took a nasty spill, sprawling flat, and they all rushed over to check on him, but he bounced up, ready to play again.

As the sun set over the Adirondacks and we packed up to head home, Dean put on a pair of ratty sneakers, slung his skates over his back, waved goodbye, and quietly walked away.

I reminded the kids who he was and they said, in true Vermont fashion, mildly unimpressed, "cool," and we headed home for dinner.

CP

Suzanne Lehmkuhl-Beste, a native of California, currently lives on the shores of Lake Champlain in Burlington, Vermont, with her three young children, two cats, four newts, and six chickens. In her spare time she is a systems engineer, and in her not-so-spare time, she enjoys running, Telemark skiing, hiking, backpacking, and volunteering as a math and Spanish teacher.