Tag: writing

Behind the Frown

Have you ever wondered what’s behind someone’s frown?

~The two guys in the sauna that seem “angry” at the world. One is going through an all out war with his two brothers after their mother passed away from an aggressive form of cancer that gave them no time to “prepare”. The older brother is now holding their mother’s ashes hostage and refuses to give any of them closure. The other guy in the sauna, is getting out all his emotions here so that he can be “there” for his wife as they bury her beloved father.

~The woman sitting pensive in the Jacuzzi, is trying to regroup; to get some “rest” so that she can go back home to continue caring for her 26 year old, special needs, son who just had emergency open heart surgery.

~The young guy stocking shelves at the local grocery story. His 32 year old wife died of alcohol poisoning after many attempts at getting sober, leaving him a young widow and their five kids motherless.

Most of the time I have a “mad-dog” face, or as the saying goes, “cara de pocos amigos” (a face of not many friends/not a friendly face). Behind my frown is someone trying to keep it together. Someone who is trying not to scream or cry or lash out. Someone who just wants to get the task at hand done. Someone trying to keep the little sanity that she has intact.

What’s behind “your frown”?

Smell

Our senses, amazing God given gifts. For example, take the sense of smell. Certain smells can transport us to a time of pure joy and bliss while others can bring us to places of pain and agony. Some smells can make your mouth salivate at the pure thought of taking a bite of that feast set before you, other times it can make you nauseated and gag at the very whiff, remember the Putrid Smell?

Two houses are etched in my mind. On my way to the bus stop, I’d stop to “pick up” a couple of friends. We were in Junior High (eek, ok that brought back tons of other memories. I sense another post…).  Debbie’s house was bright and had the “smell” of “home”. Warm and cozy, her Mom always preparing something hot for her to eat before heading to school. Always sending her on her way with a hug and a kiss.  Linda’s house was dark, she almost had to sneak out so as to not disturb the coldness. That house felt empty and void.

Certain flower fragrances transport me to the first funeral home I ever attended. Just one smell and I’m sitting in those horrible hard benches, with that open casket which held the shell of the body of my 26 year old brother. Every fiber in my being feels exactly what I felt at that moment.

The stench of alcohol assaults me with thoughts of that man taking my innocence; of that man who beat me to a pulp; of that time I almost didn’t survive.

Interesting how the senses work. Where do “smells” take you?

Putrid Smell

Plan in place. Expectations high. That room held much promise. Walking in she was assaulted by the violence of a title wave. A cascade that enveloped every part of her being by a putrid stench that filled that room. She pushed through, resolved to fulfill her plan. Watery eyes and burning nostrils would not deter her. The nausea would subside, soon; she hoped, cause there was a plan and it needed to be fulfilled.

A round opening was the source of this deadly gas. No promise of it closing any time soon, it oozed and oozed…at times whizzing. Can he be gone already…PLEASE! Nope, another deep breath in preparation for another wave of “assault” on the senses. And, so it went on…and on…and on.

The torturous assault is finally over. Time is up. Until the next time.

*****************

Folks, I am back at the sauna. Yes, I’m a sucker for punishment 😉

I love garlic in a yummy pasta dish, garlic toast, etc. It makes for a flavorful mouthful of yumminess. However, smelling digested garlic, well, it just isn’t a favorite past time. Let’s face it, the sauna has many funky odors, however, this one just blew me out of the water. I’m thinking that on my next “adventure” I’ll bring something to offset that horrid assault on my nostrils. We will see…

My First Born

After being told that we would not be able to conceive, then having two miscarriages, YOU burst forth and shattered our world! Even then, without You knowing it, You brought joy into our discouraged existence.

I LOVE that You made my tummy swell with life. Every move, every kick…living, vibrant, ready to burst forth. In fact, You were so ready to come “into” our lives that You came early. I still remember Your Dad’s excitement and tears.

I LOVE Your passion. Your competitiveness. Your smile.

I LOVE that You came to me for “huggy-time”; that You laid on my lap so that I could scratch your back.

I LOVE that you defended Your Sister, even against me; that You would fight, but still be together; that You loved her; that You made her feel special; that You remember her; that You miss her.

I LOVE the love and respect You have for Your Father; that You make him feel special; that You have beautiful memories.

I LOVE that You love; how You look at her; how You touch her; how You have adventures together; how You dance.

Life has handed us a hard blow, but we are trying together, each with their own regrets, but NOT dealing with them on our own.

I read this:

“…I was helped by my only other child, my son, Rowan, who steadfastly called me on to life and away from a preoccupation with the tomb.” ~ John R. Claypool

It resonated with my heart.  Son, thank you for calling me onto life and away from a preoccupation with the tomb. I hear You! I see You! I LOVE YOU ❤

I Write…

Thank you to the new follows and likes. Thank you for joining me on this journey (The Journey Begins)

I have a Love of Writing and reading.

I try to practice the discipline of hand writing every day on a notebook. I share some of my writings on this Blog. My blog is not like FB or IG where I share “daily” happenings.

Some reasons why I write:

I enjoy it; it brings clarity to my thoughts; it preserves “the story”; it tells “a story”.

Lately, it’s a way of “emptying” my cluttered brain. Writing somehow helps me make sense (to some degree) of the jumbled up messes in my heart and mind. Sometimes writing gives me peace.  It’s almost as if putting the words on paper, is a physical action that helps me to “let go”.

And so the journey continues, sometimes writing from the past, sometimes writing from the present. No rhyme or reason, simply “writing to heal, healing to write”.

 

Letter to my Daughter

Hi Angie! I miss you so much. I wonder what you are doing? I wonder if you think of me? I wonder if you talk to God about us? Do you look the same? Well, not like you looked before you left, but like you looked when you were healthy. I miss you! It feels so weird to not have you around. I feel lost without you. Your brother said that you always needed me so now I don’t know what to do with myself. Crazy, I never thought you’d leave so soon, or that you’d go before us. Although, I’m glad you’re in heaven totally joyful and complete. It would have been so difficult for you to see any of us go.

Guess what? We went horse back riding. I know, your thinking your crazy Mom. You’d probably worry about me. You always “took care” of me. I remember when the nurses would come and ask you if you needed anything and you’d say, “I’m fine, but can you bring my Mom some coffee.”

So on our horse riding adventure, as we were all waiting to start the trail, a huge butterfly hovered around us. My eyes filled with tears thinking you weren’t with us, but God sent us a reminder.

I think we did good for your Dad’s birthday. He said it all felt like a dream. He loves horses, you know? Even your brother went. Oh, and he has a girlfriend. You would like her. She is beautiful and sweet. She loves cheese. I can picture you and her eating cheese together, cause you loved cheese, too.

After the horse ride we went for a yummy dinner. Yeah, I didn’t cook, nor did I make your Dad a cake…I just couldn’t. You were the baker of the family. And, you loved celebrating all of us. How we miss you! Our celebrations aren’t the same without you. But we are trying.

Much love and tons and tons of hugs <3<3  ~Mom~

Honest Ponderings

The realization that you are more like your Dad than you thought. Well, in all honesty, I had never even made the connection. As I ponder this, the thought nearly suffocates me. I said, “Everyone adored and respected my Dad. He always did good for everyone —— EXCEPT his own children.” I gasped…then…boom! I WAS JUST LIKE MY DAD!!!

Known, traveling, sought after, helping here and there, “rescuing”…making a name for myself. Yikes! BUT what about my children? My husband? They were being left behind…set aside. The “others” came first. My family got what was left, if anything. Everyone “loved me” when I was their “savior”. Now, I’m just a by-word. They shake their heads in unbelief and disappointment. I’ve let “them” down. I fell off the man-made pedestal.

No human being is meant to be all-things to all-people. Only God can do that. Humans disintegrate under the weight of trying to meet everyone’s needs and expectations. Humans aren’t meant to do that.

In a world of “trying-to-do-it-all”, we miss the MOST important. I am a wife to my husband. No one else can or should fill those shoes. I am “still” a mother to my remaining son (my daughter is in heaven). No one else can be or should be their Momma.

The memory of my precious daughter, on her last days here on earth, calling out to me, “Mommie!” Guess what, no one else would do. She wanted her Mommie

Clarity of mind in the midst of this intense fog – go figure…what a gift! So often, we come to “aha moments” too late.

Grateful, it is not to late for me!