mother

You Idiot

You Idiot

How is it you can’t see

What’s in front of your face?

 

You Idiot

You think your words or lack of

don’t hurt me?

 

You Idiot

Think again about what you’re doing.

It speaks loud and clear

 

You Idiot

Take stock of yourself and improve

Or lose those who’d help you.

 

You Idiot

Look in the mirror for worth

Inside you and around you.

 

 

Mourning

She clasped her grandmother’s hand in hers,
stunned by the weakness and frailty
of the skinny fingers.
 
Machines beeped in the sanitary hospital room.
The words ‘Palliative Care’
Crisp on the walls.
 
A sob was wrenched from her mother’s throat
And she watched the first tear drop
Many would soon follow.
 
Wetness coated her own cheeks in silence
Unable to disrupt the mourning
Despite the life beside them.
 
That night her father came to get her from the dreary room
And her mother urged her to go and said,
“Grandma won’t pass if you’re here.”
 
She offered a weak smile, knowing her grandpa was there
In spirit for both her mom and grandma
And she walked away willingly.
 
In the middle of the night, she woke to heartbreak
And knew her grandma had left this world.
A happy soul now gone forever.
 
Cries echoed down the hallway when her mother returned
And she wiped away her own sorrows to put on her face.
A warrior’s mask to support her mom
And fight her demons with her.

Shopping, Talking, and Creating

Today has been a very productive day in my books, and a decent one for my mood too. My mom invited me to help her shop for her Mother of the Groom dress and my future sister-in-law, Emily, was able to tag along. It was fun!

After trying on what felt like a dozen dresses, my mom was torn between three and that shrunk to two. It created a bit of a numbers war with 4 of us liking the one and 3 liking the other. Thankfully, I was able to give my mom an awesome speech (to push her to buy the dress she loved instead of the one my dad thought looked best) and it ended quite happy.

We got back to the house to see my dad and my husband, Andrew, had not started on the Punch A Cup game for my brother and future sister-in-law’s stag and doe (which happens to be two weeks away). They made a measurement mistake in two places, but I saved the day by proposing a solution.  (Tooting my own horn a little bit for which I apologize). The game needs a couple coats of paint, and then we will be cutting tissue to match.

While my husband worked on drilling the holes for that and my dad kept cleaning, my mom and I engraved glasses. Got another dozen done and only have 18 more to go! I am hoping we’ll get them done this Monday.

Emily told me she managed to get her wedding invites out and I know bridal shower invites have gone out too. It is so exciting waiting for mail! My only issue… I am still undecided on whether I want to attend their wedding. I don’t feel like they really want me there, but I don’t want to cause another fight by declining (even if I think I’m doing what they want me to do).

It isn’t my wedding, but it is nice to help my parents’ and family do these kind of things. Creativity is addictive, y’know?

 

 

August 2017

It was a big day
But in a little way.
The end of my two weeks
Which was less than bleak.
I left that job
Feeling more than just a glob.
Unsure of what lay ahead
Yet I was not filled with dread.
Instead I felt hope anew
My footsteps led me far and true.
I stumbled upon my purpose,
And it was time to get down to business.
 
I had had a dream,
Filled with danger and fun.
I told my husband, my mother,
And they were quite stunned.
It spun into an idea
A book written by me,
In which a girl named Vivian
Fought hard just to be free.
 
I am still on that adventure,
Editting, revising Vivian’s tale.
It consumed me through and through,
And I refuse to fail.

Winter’s Come

Red rises in the light of a waning sun.

Dusk conquers the sky, silent and proud,

Before Lady Moon rides her darkness

And claims her throne once more.

From the ground, forests watch the game

Repeated nightly, predictable,

Before turning their eyes inward.

The ground covering their twining roots

Is warmed by bloodied leaves

Dropped from the skyward limbs.

Night’s Queen bids forth the cold

And sends the westward wind howling in the eerie calm.

Fall drifts away, hand in hand with Father Time,

And passes Winter, serene under a clock of frost.

The forests shiver with the change,

Watch drying leaves, rust, crumple, disintegrate.

Dawn sounds the trumpet charge,

Ahead of Lord Sun on his sea of blue,

And chases Lady Moon past the horizon once more.

The trees turn their eyes inward, closing them tight,

Its time to slumber, despite warming rays of light.