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Spare Keys
Songs in the rekey of life
Did You Remember Your Keys Today?
My house keys are on a hook next to the front door. That's important because even though it's against fire department regulations, I use a key to open my gate from inside. I am absolutely sure my keys will never be lost, so I will never be locked in. I don't stand a chance of being locked out either, because my retired neighbor has an extra set, and my pals in the neighborhood also have copies.
The guy that stole my bag had a big smile. He sat at a nearby table, adjacent to a loose crowd of my friends and their friends, choreographers and dancers waiting to see an outdoor show. He caught my eye a few times, smiling in a friendly way. I came to think he was someone I should have remembered, but didn't. A few minutes later, I reached under my chair for my bag, and it was gone. The smiling man? He was gone, too.
My neighbor was away visiting her sister, my friends were on vacation. So much for my safeguards, I was locked out.
Be Still, My Heart
Once I lost a commitment ring down the grimy bathroom sink drain at a tiny dance club. I often lose files from my desktop, gone without a trace. Friends have lost husbands and wives and partners just as suddenly, and when they lose kids, their spiritual beliefs often hit the skids, too.
Vice President Dick Cheney had his battery replaced on Saturday morning (he has a condition where his heart may lose its rhythm and at any moment could need a shock from his pacemaker). He's got a new battery, but where are my keys? And where is the eighty-five bucks I gave the locksmith to get the lock rekeyed, where is that?
My house keys are on a hook next to the front door. That's important because even though it's against fire department regulations, I use a key to open my gate from inside. I am absolutely sure my keys will never be lost, so I will never be locked in. I don't stand a chance of being locked out either, because my retired neighbor has an extra set, and my pals in the neighborhood also have copies.
The guy that stole my bag had a big smile. He sat at a nearby table, adjacent to a loose crowd of my friends and their friends, choreographers and dancers waiting to see an outdoor show. He caught my eye a few times, smiling in a friendly way. I came to think he was someone I should have remembered, but didn't. A few minutes later, I reached under my chair for my bag, and it was gone. The smiling man? He was gone, too.
My neighbor was away visiting her sister, my friends were on vacation. So much for my safeguards, I was locked out.
Be Still, My Heart
Once I lost a commitment ring down the grimy bathroom sink drain at a tiny dance club. I often lose files from my desktop, gone without a trace. Friends have lost husbands and wives and partners just as suddenly, and when they lose kids, their spiritual beliefs often hit the skids, too.
Vice President Dick Cheney had his battery replaced on Saturday morning (he has a condition where his heart may lose its rhythm and at any moment could need a shock from his pacemaker). He's got a new battery, but where are my keys? And where is the eighty-five bucks I gave the locksmith to get the lock rekeyed, where is that?
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