What a Detective Might See While Watching Me

A poem about living alone

Surveillance Report

Lights go on at 6:15.
I see her in the kitchen.
Then she disappears.

7:02 at the table, gray robe,
reading, fire in the pellet stove,
dog sprawled on the loveseat.

Our records show she’s 68,
widowed, no kids, alone.
She plays piano at church.

Website, blog, Facebook. 
Huh. A writer. Several books.
None I’d want to read.

10:13. Still in her robe.
Standing by the stove,
writing. Cold, I guess. 

12:08. Here she comes.
Dressed at last. Jeans,
baggy shirt, baseball cap. 

Kitchen table. Lunch.
Dog hanging close,
she reads, eats, reads.

Now she’s down the hall.
Can I take a break? There’s
nothing happening here.

3 p.m. Heavy downpour, 
but she’s coming out.
Mismatched rain gear,

dog on leash. I’m bored.
Dog shitting. Call the cops.
Nope. She’s bagging it.

6 p.m. Getting dark.
Stove, table, stove.
Sitting with the dog again.

I fell asleep. It’s 10 p.m. 
She takes pills, hugs dog.
Lights go out at 10:15.

End of shift report:
Eats three times a day,
keeps warm, still alive.

This poem comes from my 2024 book, Dining Al Fresco with My Dog. The poems describe my solo life on this sliver of the Oregon Coast.

I’m sharing this today because I didn’t have time to write a second post this week between naps, pharmacy runs, and doctor visits. It has been a month since I left the hospital. My battle with the effects of pericarditis continues, but I am slowly getting better.

Yesterday’s echocardiogram showed no more fluid around my heart and lungs. That is great news. A few issues remain, but I’m going to beat this. As a bonus, I have lost nine pounds.

Ironically, publication of my new novel, Back to Ona Beach, has been delayed because now my cover designer is sick and spending time at the hospital. Not the best summer for either of us.

My next poetry book, Bento by the Sea, coming out in November, is on schedule.

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Thank you for your great responses to my last post, the one about reading or watching TV for company. I received an email from a friend who declares she almost never has the TV or any other media on, that she can’t stand the racket, but most of us seem to appreciate a little background noise at least some of the time.

Keep cool, all of you who are suffering from summer heat waves. I sympathize. I spent a lot of years living through hot summers without air conditioning. Our temperature here on the Oregon coast has stayed in the 60s, warm enough for me.

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How did I end up alone? My first marriage ended in divorce. My second husband died of Alzheimer’s after we had moved to the Oregon coast, far from family. I never had any kids, only dogs and cats. Now I live by myself in a big house in the woods. You can read our story in my memoir, No Way Out of This: Loving a Partner with Alzheimer’s, available at your favorite bookseller.