writing

Changing Dynamics

I find it interesting how the dynamics of working on IT are changing…and hope it is for the better.

I am always amazed when I hear or see stories regarding the early days of the space program. Some of the most technical aspects and computations were worked out by women. I wish that generation had been able to promote this more, but they couldn’t. Women worked behind the scenes back then.

Today, I sat in a call with 9 others discussing the future. I was the only female. It was a bit disheartening. However, I know it is changing.

I turn and look at my own team and other teams I work with. Some are well balanced; others are not. Both men and women working well together to build our future.

I know plenty of female developers, analysts, and managers. So I take solace in knowing the dynamic is changing and headed toward balance.

But, I wish there were more out there, with stronger skill sets equal to their male counterparts. The industry needs people with technical skills balanced with those soft skills we’re known for.

If you know a girl who loves science, technology and math, or maybe is a whiz at them but shies away from the fields “because that’s not what women do”…please encourage them to dive in and take that leap. They will be able to accomplish phenomenal things with the right knowledge and courage.

writing

Blue Hour

The quiet of early morning reveals peace.

Calm surrounds every thing on the beach,

As the birds slowly wake from their slumber.

The gulf gently kisses the shore,

Little sandpipers dart to the wet sand

Grabbing tiny bites before the water returns.

Blue fills the sky, reflects from the white sand,

Even shadows cast a blue hue over the dunes.

The sounds of dolphin breaking the surface,

Their exhale and inhale is unmistakable.

The sun is not yet above the horizon;

This is the blue hour.

writing

On Track

The air crisp against my cheeks; I stare up into the midnight blue sky. Speckles of light dot the night and not a moon to be found.

My heart beats more as I move my feet, one step in front of the other. I work to get on track, to overcome my self-doubt, to shut down that annoying voice.

I get lost watching blinking white and red above; airplanes float above to destinations unknown. A train howls in the distance. The occasional car passes by.

The time passes as the voice begins to quiet down. Thirty minutes later, I find myself standing in front of a well lit house, welcoming me back. I look up to the sky one more time before turning in, and whisper, “Good night.”

writing

Chilling

Suspended, her heart felt suspended in her chest. Breathing was not coming easy; it was shallow as her chest rose and fall.

Her fingers and toes were chilled through, despite gloves and socks and shoes. The air whipped her cheeks and turned her nose red.

She turned, giving in. Not today; the warmth of the house lured her back inside. She shut the door and slid out of her shoes.

Tomorrow will be another day. A better day. She made her way to the kitchen and heated up the kettle. She worked on the dishes as her tea brewed.

Finally done, she made her way to the sofa and found a movie to watch. Her cats piled on, ready to cuddle. She sipped her tea and melted into the pillows, enjoying her Sunday.

writing

New Routine

Unexpected hugs and cuddles would be nice,

Meaningful gazes from across the room.

Going new places or on familiar drives;

We don’t do those things anymore.

Now, we are good friends and share a home,

Still have our laughs and fun too.

But this house, this time, isolates us,

It started before the pandemic. But grew.

There is such a thing as too much togetherness

We’ve lost the ability to discover the new.

The sparks only fly if I start it off,

I am tired of being the initiator all the time.

What in the world are we going to do?

writing

Lead Me

Spotify on, in the background really low,

Chris Stapleton singing Millionaire.

It makes me wish for your arms

Although we never danced much.

Softly swaying across the wood floor,

I imagine my hands clasped behind your neck,

Your hands resting on my hips,

Moving slow, being held close by you.

My minds eye feels your gentle lips

pressed on me, tender on my skin,

I start missing you once more.

As the song comes to its end, I wish,

Your hand could take mine. Lead me.

writing

Fly Me to the Moon – Part Five

Jon and Mikaela walked out of the lift on Deck Three. She smiled when they walked out into the atrium, but then sighed and looked at Jon. “It isn’t anything like home, is it Jon?”

He looked ahead and shook his head, “It’s definitely something different.” He chuckled to himself. “But different can be good, I guess.”

“Well, hopefully you like different food. We definitely have some unique meals here on the station.” She guided him over to a glistening silver and white box with a touchscreen. The screen flashed an assortment of foods that seem like they did back on Earth.

Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary. “Everything looks great! Either that, or I’m starving.”

Mikaela glanced over, “You’re starving,” and grinned crookedly.

Jon chuckled and picked out his choice. A ticket printed. Mikaela then made her selection and pulled the table tent number. “Still a little service around here. They will bring it to us.” She walked over to a table which faced out to the lunar surface.

Jon followed her and took a seat. “Do you get used to the lower gravity?”

Mikaela smiled, “Oh, sure. But going home is always interesting. Especially the longer you stay. I always get home and am over five foot six, but it rapidly disappears.”

Jon smiled as they exchanged conversations and glances. He noticed her hair had streaks of gray coming in and small laugh lines around her eyes.

“You’ll probably be six four or more when you get back,” Mikaela observed then chuckled.

Jon and Mikaela continued exchanging a few stories, then the lights in the atrium dimmed. Mikaela looks up with a sad look. “We’ll, that’s our cue. Time to head out for sleep.”

Jon looked at his watch and nodded his head. “I’ll walk you back?”

They made their way to the lift and she pressed the same floor as Jon’s. “Our quarters are all together.”

Jon’s knuckles lightly brushed against her hand as the lift came to a stop. Mikaela grinned, but then swiftly stepped off the lift. “I’m right down there,” pointing down the hall in the opposite direction. “Good night, Jon.”

Jon watched her as she turned and entered her room. He raised his hand, waved goodnight and headed for his own.

writing

Hearing Rumas

Hey! I heard a ruma….

Yeah, I heard she’s tall…

Do you get my gist?

Heard she has a beau,

Yeah, yeah, his name is Arthur.

It is!

I hear they have an amazing auto.

Yes, it’s gorgeous and immune to dings.

No way! ‘Dis is phenomenal!

Calm down, put yourself in order!

Ha! Laugh all you want,

it could get pretty serious.

Ah, give it a few months…

We’ll see what happens then!

writing

IT?

Heart beating hard against my cage,

Headache throbbing and settling in.

Nerves on edge, uncertainty surrounds,

Three months to wait, maybe it’s not…

Not that critical, perhaps calm is in order?

Still, my mind spirals, what if there’s…

There’s nothing that can be done…

Maybe waiting to see if there is improvement

All on its own. Whatever ‘IT’ is.

No wonder sleep isn’t easy, but I hope…

It’s nothing to worry over, just keep going.

No time to stop anyhow, whatever ‘IT’ is.

writing

Florida Chill

Cotton clouds blanket the blue sky;

A lone palm stands against the chill,

A shiver runs down my spine

As I fill my lungs with frigid air.

Where is the warmth of Florida

Our beautiful sunny afternoons?

I enjoy the break for it will be fleeting.

Soon shorts can be donned once more.