Tag: writing

The Family Tree

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away there was a Tree, and although it wasn’t a unique Tree, it inspired respect and admiration. The Tree was beautiful to behold. It stood tall in the midst…sturdy and stunning. Lots of branches and foliage covered the trunk. Oh, the oohs and aahs it inspired.

The passage of time with its multitude of storms, beat that Tree mercilessly. “Today” it stands barely recognizable. I dare say, some may even disdain its memory.

Some of its branches never made it to maturity. Others held on until illness, disappearance, unknown causes or even their own doing cut them off. Those that remain, well…they simply remain.

Time has a way of unearthing great treasures or stripping away facades. That outward beauty hid many parasites that were eating away from within. And, try as we may to keep the semblance of this great, big, beautiful Tree intact, at some point, it is impossible.

Another branch is cut off…death’s blade strikes again. Few remain. Each with their own regrets. Each wondering what is next. And, so a tattered legacy continues…

A Fretful Day

Another horrid night. Enthralled in the unraveling of a life…watching…waiting. The ground ebbing away. The gut stuck to the spine. A pressure cooker waiting to explode. She sat at the table staring at papers that “seemingly” held life and death in it’s lines. The words “DO NOT RESUSCITATE” glaring at her; daunting her. It’s meaning incomprehensible, yet it’s reality could not be escaped.

How did she go from signing a birth certificate to signing papers that would mark her daughter’s demise? She sat numb, frozen…staring into nothingness. A frigid chill enveloped her from within; from without. Was she even breathing? Finally, as in a trance, hand to paper as ink flowed. “Ready pen” was not ready for this.

Her daughter’s screams, “Help me Mom!” Her whisper, “No more appointments, Mom.” That tender and loving stare speaking without a word, “are you going to be ok?” My audible words, “Angie, it’s ok to go. I give you permission. I’m going to be ok. I will miss YOU so, so much, but it’s ok to go.” Her surrender, “ok”.

Tumbling, tumbling in her brain…words, gestures. All ending at this table, making decisions that could never be changed.

Two years have passed since this fretful day, yet its memory is as palpable as today.

“only to the extent that we expose ourselves over and over to annihilation can that which is indestructible be found in us.” ~ Pema Chödrön

Birthdays

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you…” I better stop singing before I mess it up. Yes, it’s happened! Yes, I cried. End of story…oh, wait, I’m just getting started. Anywho, birthdays…goodness, how could such a subject conjure up all sorts of reactions and emotions? I tell ya, there’s nothing light and simple anymore…or has there ever been?

Can I just express my opinion about birthdays? Yes! I’m glad you approve…haha! What in the world has happened to birthday parties, people?!?! The venue, the entertainment, the decor…omygoodness gracious, one would have to sell their first born to afford such a feat. Wait, what if your first born is the birthday celebrated? Well, never mind. Let’s get back to the story. Quinceañeras are no longer a little girl with a simple white dress at a mass y una comida. Oh no, it’s a huge production. You’d think it’s the royal wedding. And, them cakes! Seriously?!?! Are they even eatable? I’d take a Betty Crocker, moist devils food cake with milk chocolate frosting ANY DAY over some of these “plastic” pieces of art. Ah, my Angie would always bake me a cake 😦

My “happy” birthday memory bank is, well, not very active. I do remember my Mom would always be the first to wish me happy birthday. And, I remember turning 15, which for some reason is a “magical” number in my culture. However, I had already managed to mess things up bringing shame to the family. The Runaway had begrudgingly been accepted back. Shunned because her innocence had been lost. Funny thing is that her innocence had been long gone. Taken in their own home by one of their own. I guess it was easier to blame a stranger…I guess. Let’s just say it wasn’t The Waltons. There was an attempt to celebrate this “magical” age in a girls life. Still not sure why? Cause it was anything but a “happy birthday”. Yup, Porcelain Doll was in full attire. A picture with a cake is cause for a flood of memories, a deluge of triggers which should be avoided.

There is that 50th birthday, though. Quite the marker, so I decided to celebrate. It was GOOD. Then there was my last birthday with my beautiful girl. She was nearing her end. Being who she was, she “decided” that she would fight to stay awake all day so that she could spend it celebrating me. Her eating was almost at a stand still, yet, she sat up and had a piece of pie with us. It was her Momma’s birthday and she would do all in her power to make it a special one, and SHE DID!

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you…”

maybe, just maybe, birthdays aren’t that bad after all…

Scars (poem)

〉〉〉  S – C – A – R – S  〈〈〈

each with a story of it’s own

joyful & traumatic –  bitter & sweet

visible & invisible – physical & emotional

other inflicted & self inflicted

by strangers, by loved ones, by self

〉〉〉  S – C – A – R – S  〈〈〈

some repulse, others bring a smile

stories of heroism, stories of survival

freely spoken, cautiously guarded, safely hidden

〉〉〉  Scars are part of LIVING  〈〈〈

Grayness

Motivation Monday! How does one wrap it’s brain around such a lively subject? How does one who lives in a constant state of blah, get motivated to even move? Who would stand in line to watch a dud? Who would pay money to see a flop? Yeah, no headlines here!

The come-back-kid. The rags to riches. The from nothing to somethings are the ones who get the applause, the adulation, the pats on the back. Never disappointing. Always pushing through.

What if the dark abyss is more inviting? What if it beckons one to enter in and never look back? What if in the midst of all the colors of the rainbow, grayness is ones go to spot? Do I repulse you? Do I annoy you? Do I disappoint you?

Can you fix me? Can you pull me out? Do you even want to try…anymore? Like a sling, always coming back to the same-ol-blah.

Stagnant…Monotone…same-old-song.

 

What if…

…What if I’m just…Me

What if I don’t break any records or become famous or stand before crowds

What if contentment is just being “here”

What if I’m not keeping up with the Joneses or trying to be like the Kardashians

What if fulfillment is just being “present”

What if I stopped regretting yesterday or fearing tomorrow

What if joy is for today…?

Perspective – Perspective – Perspective

“Teach us to realize the brevity of life,
    so that we may grow in wisdom.” ~ Psalm 90:12

Symbolism’s

Events. Markers. Symbols ~ Etched. Created. Memorialized ~ Planned. Unplanned. With a plan and a purpose. The depth of their meaning incalculable. Transcending time and space. Creating an intricate canopy by the Master’s Hand. The mystery and beauty of it all.

The appointment abruptly set. A good thing given the instability of the mind. Yet, the symbolism of it all did not escape her mind. This long awaited event was happening on the very next day of A Step Forward.

Surrounded by love and support she walked into a place she had never dreamed. The appointment. The artist. The design. All pre-ordained. No vacillating. Resolved. Secure. Surreal.

In a cloud the process began. The gentle hand of the artist inflicting a welcomed pain at every stroke. Her mind swimming in beautiful memories of her beautiful girl. Oh, how she loved her! The searing pain of her absence always present. Awakened from her trance by the words, “all done”.

Gasp! It’s done! The sense that “this” has been there all along. Now visible to the naked eye.

A Butterfly ♥ the earth bound worm unraveled, transformed, set free. Able to fly, to soar on heights beyond human reach. New creation. Metamorphosis. Shedding mortality, to be clothed in immortality. Freedom. Life. Hope. Fullness of Joy.

Music Notes ♥ her love of music. her beautiful voice. her love to worship her King. her last melodies and us singing together as her final day drew near.

Angie ♥ her name!!!!!!!!!!!!

♥A wrist marked by love ~ Depth beyond the grave♥

Spring is here! There are signs of re-birth all around. Birds fill the air with their melodious songs. Life. Hope. Fullness of Joy.

Ocean Waves

The sound of the pounding waves ~ ~ calming…soothing

drowning out my weary soul

Pounding, wave after wave ~ ~ crashing…soothing

at the break of dawn…sunrise ringing in a new day

His mercies are new every morning

a welcomed sight to my numb soul

The vastness of these waters cannot drown out love

it magnifies it

it amplifies it

Take it in, oh hurting soul…drink deeply and be refreshed

 

Gym Routine

I like routine, however, I am continually learning to not be as rigid. This week I’m attempting to get back into the semblance of a regular gym schedule. That being said, here we go with a long overdue Gym Rant. Yes, who needs Another Gym Rant? I say, “we all do!” Cause, humor and sarcasm are just so therapeutic 😉

“The kids” are back in all it’s splendor. Maybe it’s Spring Break, maybe it’s boredom. Two “little-boys” barged into the steam room. You’d think they had ants in their pants. Their silly antics just did not match their physic. They grumbled and complained about how hot it was and how horrid that steam was. Seriously?!?! It’s not like someone has you locked in here! One had a cough that just wouldn’t quit. I was ready to see a lung or two on the floor any minute. Did he cover his mouth? Why, NO!!! That would be too much, like right.

Tarzan was back in the pool. I figured cheetah would arrive any minute given his loud screeches. Was he auditioning for something? What did those screams and shouts exercise? I’m thinking bigger ear plugs are needed :-0

The singing biker was filled with melodies. Maybe the high pitch voice had something to do with them tight daisy-duke-shorts. Maybe he is practicing for an audition? I don’t know, but someone should inform him that those sounds coming out of his mouth are pure torture to those around him…just sayin 8-/

Yes, the freaks really do come out at night (Sights & Sounds), AND I have run into them all!