Ordinary Life

Hindsight, you speak as clearly as you see. It was all too much, these words hurled at me.  I have collected each kindling line and here, set them aflame.  There is music in the crackling, the burning and  lifting away I hum along, louder now:  "... it is well..."  LAST YEAR WITH LARRY (by Larry, with his phone )  You are a psycho. Everyone knows it You are just someone I use to know You are not a VERY stable person. Your family is a cult. You will lie and cheat to get your way.  You attack anyone that disagrees with you You are on the bi-polar kick today I see. You really need some help I’m not saying that to be mean. You really need to get checked out I just simply no longer loved you Less of you is more for me You are just crazy Get in the real world Nope. I’m not going down your crazy rabbit hole. You were the problem in this marriage. I now believe that 1000%. You are not mentally stable and have major issues.  I pray for our kids you get hel...

It's been a year since his gifts returned but I could not... gifts for being their father, returned in protest because I was their mother.  ::Laswell ~ It's been a year::

  Wasn't there always warm welcome,  plenty to go around?  With heads bowed in gratitude,  Here love once was found. 

There's a table, You've prepared for me  in the presence, of my enemies... 2011 Don’t hit back; discover beauty in everyone. If you’ve got it in you, get along with everybody. Don’t insist on getting even; that’s not for you to do. “I’ll do the judging,” says God. “I’ll take care of it.” ~ Rom12 As I walk through this season of mourning, I stop along the way sometimes, wondering if these promise are still true for me, despite my own humanity. I believe that my heart was in the right place, but I am told, too, that hearts are wicked and deceptive above all else.  I hope that I have been obedient.  I hope that the desire for peace and love is not a seed wasted.  Motives are harder to be sure of when denied a share of the harvest.  Still, I will trust. It's all I can do. 

East coast girl with your sun tanned skin Salt in your hair, kissed by the wind You're wild and free to live and let be Strings let go you'll soar and sink low Follow the river away from the sea  Float the Savannah, back home to me. I once wiped the tears of a young girl's eyes  Real life is tested by whether we cry. Feel and allow it, for though there is pain  A life without contrast is one built in vain. Salt and fresh water, shadow and light  Opposing angles build houses upright I sit in my own house, thinking of you,  little kite tattered, lost in the blue I bottle my question and fling it to sea:  Were sandcastles and kite flying only for me?

Friday night and we are out to eat, two widows proper and me, widowed by the death of a girlish dream. Our waitress leads us to a four top, one empty chair for the phantoms we bring. We three share genes and a bloodline, but have different ideas about dressing a biscuit. My aunt asks for apple butter, my cousin requests honey from a bear and I opt for maple's syrup. The phantoms are silent. No one asks what they would have liked. My aunt, alone the longest and of a quiet nature,  is content to share our company. My cousin, twice widowed yet too young to retire, is - unbeknownst to our waitress - a former five star general in the order of Cracker Barrels. I feel the need to create content, to lift countenances; we are not begged by little voices to please, pretty please , play checkers. The phantoms clear their throats and I push the peg game meant for one in front of their empty chair. "I wonder if they have blueberry muffins tonight?" my cousin asks aloud "Oooh, mmm...

Dear Three, Hi, I'm Deuce. We haven't met yet, but we will. I've known about you long before auditions began. And I've always told him I aim to be your friend. There are children involved, after all. You are no doubt lovely, and gentle and kind. He has top-shelf taste though his budget is sometimes inflated. He says he is going to wife you soon; very, very soon he tells me. Perhaps sometime in early October, when my birthday rolls around. I think he intends that to stun and sting. But I am already quite numb from the earlier blows. Though we are not exactly divorced yet, I tried that whole  kinstugi  thing. The gold we found in  Rome 's mountains could not heal or seal us, and all the  King's horses and Prince Simon's men , couldn't put us back together again. It takes both sides holding their broken parts, together. While I must note the ease with which two decades have been discarded, it is only a reminder for myself. You must not read into my tone a l...