Writing

Patience

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye

I lost Patience,
or maybe she ran away.
Glory knows, I haven’t been
giving her the attention or
the praise she deserves,

and it’s been a minute
since I listened to her advice
with anything more than the practiced
active listening skills I learned
while bartending in my twenties.

Last I saw,
she was sitting alone at the table near the door,
shifting her eyes between empty glass and open door.

She’s not there now. Perhaps she
just needed a minute to straighten her backbone
and remember her composure. Perhaps
she will be back, but it seems unlikely.

And I admit:

disappearing has always been
more than an impressive trick;
it is a necessity,
right up there with invisibility.

She helped me learn both
once upon a time.

So let her have the rest of the night off.
I hope she went home early
to beat the traffic. Maybe she wasn’t
too tired to wash her face and indulged
in a hot shower.  Maybe she’ll read a
chapter or at least a poem or two
and with any luck, she’ll fall asleep easy
and warm and oh so very relieved.

When He Asks if He Can Drive

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye    

        I used to close my eyes on roller coasters. Not that I ever liked roller coasters. I spent many an afternoons in my formative years sitting on a park bench in various amusement parks, waiting for my brother and father to get off some upside down, spiraling, scream inducing ride. I’ve always been a patient daydreamer.

            There was a time in my early 20’s when I gave roller coasters another shot. I’m sure there was some demon I was trying to slay at the time. Retrospectively, it was nearing the end of my adolescence and maybe I was trying desperately to figure out who I was or reinvent myself as some daredevil type. I thought maybe I never gave roller coasters a fair shake.

            So, one summer, at the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk, I went on the Big Dipper. A roller coaster built in the 20’s, made mostly of wood at the time, and providing one rusty, roll bar for safety. How bad could it be?

            I did not enjoy my ride on the Big Dipper. I couldn’t get my eyes open after the first 10 seconds, as though trying to incite some instinctual belief that if I don’t see it, it isn’t happening. But closing my eyes has never stopped anything from happening.

            Still, at that moment as I was tossed from side to side, up to down, and all the places in between, I closed my eyes, embraced my helplessness, and gave myself over to whatever fate decided to show up. I couldn’t make it stop or slow it down, and screaming didn’t seem to stop it, but I could close my eyes and trust what will happen is what is meant to happen.

            I ran the odds in my head of how likely it would be that today of all days in its 80 year existence the roller coaster should malfunction. How rare would it be that I should be thrown from my seat or that the wooden structure should collapse on this day of all days? After all, hundreds, maybe thousands of people safely survive this roller coaster every day. It is highly unlikely that the one time in my lifetime I jump on board something terrible would happen. I just had to survive the roughly three minutes from launch to exit. There was nothing I could do but give myself over to fate.

            I use this method often in my life. This is how I talk myself into getting on airplanes, meeting new people, and other such adventures.  I close my eyes and embrace the fact that I am helplessness to the outcome. I chant to myself, “What will be, will be,” because knowing the helplessness of my own individual person has always been something I understand all too well.

            I suppose closing one’s eyes and embracing fate is all any of us can do, isn’t it? There is something comfortable about going within, reminding myself “I’ve had a good run,” and giving over to the inevitable, to all that which I cannot control.

This is what I think about when I hand him the keys, and the only way I bring myself to say, “Yes, you can drive.”  

Previously Published in Leonardo (2025).

Writing Prompt: I Told You So

/ Katrina Kaye

Let’s talk about gut feelings. Those times when you knew something or understood something without being told. I don’t mean paranoia and insecurities, but those moments when your instinct or intuition took over and it was correct.

Describe the situation, the feeling. Did you tell anyone? Did they believe you? How did it feel to be “right”? Did you listen to your gut? Change your behavior because of what your intuition whispered to you? You might also choose to explore the idea of trusting your gut verses following expectation.

You might be able to create a poem or short story from this prompt, or it might feel good just to vent on the page. As always, choose your own adventure! Feel free to share your creation in the comments section.