Archive for February, 2011

Just one more.

What a crazy place to meet. Going under that pier to retrieve the dog’s toy. Wasn’t the dog supposed to do that? Then running into him like that. Oh my word! So handsome. He was just so handsome. Hard to believe he was doing the exact same thing, getting his dog’s toy. And both red squeaky balls. How funny is that. My God that seems like a million years ago. So young.

I don’t even remember what I was wearing. Isn’t that silly? Such a silly thing to try to remember. What was I wearing? A two piece? Yes, it must have been. He must have been temporarily blinded by my head butt if I had on that hideous orange thing. I guess that’s what Mothers are for, to buy us ugly clothes. Too funny.

That first date. His cologne. I smell it now. He took my hand as I got out of the car and didn’t let go of it. He’s holding it now. Strong, hardworking hands. Such a long time ago. So many years. Together.

What about that car? The GTO. Oh, we had some times in that car. He loved that car. His high school graduation gift from his father. I would kid him that I wasn’t really his first love, the car was. He did ask me to marry him instead of the car though, so that was a good sign. He regretted selling it. But, it was his decision. I told him he could keep it, but with the baby coming.

It is too quiet! Why is it so quiet? I should hear beeping! I need to hear beeping! What is going on? I have to look. Eyes are so tired. Oh, okay, there’s the nurse. I see her. It’s okay. Everything is okay. Let me lay my head back down and listen to the thumping. It keeps me going. It keeps me alive. Keeps him alive.

We didn’t know what it was going to be, boy or girl. Daddy’s little man. That look on his face. When he held his son the first time. Our son. He just cried. He cried just like a little baby himself. I almost died when he pulled out “the box”. He had gone shopping. On one side of the box was a brand new Barbie doll, a little pink dress with matching bloomers, white patent leather shoes and a heart-shaped locket that said Daddy’s girl. On the other side was a little pair of Brogan boots, the smallest leather tool belt you’ve ever seen in your life, a shaving razor and a brand new Hot Wheels GTO. I was overwhelmed. Speechless. Moved to tears. This big, imposing, rugged looking man showing such utter and honest love.

My back. Ouch! It hurts so bad. Time. What time is it? What day? Beeping. Good. Tired. So very tired. Did I call Race? Yes, yes I called him earlier. Update. Nothing new. So dark in here. I hate that stupid overhead light. It keeps flickering. You’d think they’d fix that for God’s sake! Aggravating son of a bitch. Let me get a hold of one of those bulbs and I’ll stick it up someone‘s ass. Stop! Stop it! You’re just tired. Just tired.

There was one time and one time only I saw this man crumble. This man. This pillar of marble. Invincible. I knew he was invincible. But when your best friend, your companion, your constant…dies. He would have been 98 in people years, at least I think I remember the calculation. Seven years to one, right? Not sure. The dog’s name was Piston. How appropriate. And black as oil just drained from a motor. Two peas in a pod. Piston could tell time just like a twenty-one jewel watch. He knew exactly when his Daddy would be home from work. He would sit at the bay window. Patiently. Never moving a muscle. Listening. Straining to hear. Those ears would be a twitchin’ just like a bat. And then he’d hear it. The motor. From miles away. The very tip of that dog’s tail would start a waggin‘. Just the tip, not the whole thing. When the truck pulled in the driveway, you would witness the purest form of unconditional love. Sometimes I couldn’t tell who was smiling bigger him, or the dog. It left a hole in his heart when Piston died. A hole that can never be filled. One year later I did my very best to patch that hole when I handed him a solid white lab puppy, which he named Primer.

Meant to be. He and I were just meant to be. Family. Pride. No regrets. We’ve done our best. Isn’t that all anyone can do? You just keep moving forward. With your life. He has always been there. By my side. My hero. What if? What if? Oh God! I can’t think like that! I can’t. Stay strong. Be strong. He needs me. He can’t make it without me. How the hell will he find his clean underwear if I’m not around?

That time in the mountains. The motel. Sitting in rocking chairs outside the room with our coffee. Early morning. In the valley with mountains all around. Watching a veil of white. Ever so slowly the layers of mist danced up the mountain. Fingers of fog would hang in the folds of the mountain refusing to make their way up. My God that was wonderful. Quiet. It was so quiet. Rays of gold started warming our cheeks as the sun broke through. Revealing. Birds started signing, telling the world hello.

This doesn’t sound right. The thumping doesn’t sound right. His chest is moving to quickly under my head. Dear God! What does this mean? Why? Please No! Please stay with me! So much life left to live. What do I do? This is happening so fast. Were is the nurse? I don’t see anybody. Don’t move your head. Keep it down here where you can listen. Is he still breathing? Yes, there was one. In. Out. His hand is squeezing mine so tightly. I’m loosing him! Someone help me! Someone save him! Why aren’t they coming? His chest is filling. Rising. Breathing. Falling. Still falling. Empty. Silence.


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I am

I am blue jeans and leather; I am silk and cashmere,
I am sleep in till noon; I am up at 5:00 am,
I am not Ivy League, but I am genuine,
I am candle light and filet; I am picnic table and sandwiches,
I am hard as nails; I am soft as cotton,
I am a quiet book; I am a scary movie,
I am confident; I am unsure,
I am speed and adrenaline; I am a rocker on the porch,
I am mountains and mist; I am city and lights,
I am symphony; I am banjos,
I am easy to please; I am hard to anger,
I am a dreamer, and I have dreams,
I am creative; I am easily inspired,
I am feelings; I am a wall,
I am protective; I am an open book,
I am a giver, not a taker,
I am responsible; I am foolish,
I am young at heart; I am childish,
I am rain and blankets; I am sun and shades,
I am quiet, and I know how to listen,
I am family; I am friends,
I am a lover, not a fighter,
I am open arms; I am open heart
I am steel and chrome; I am wood and stone
I am patient
I am me; I am yours

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Life’s road has been a long one,
Full of ups and downs and curves;
But we seem to have reached a place,
Where we no longer have to swerve.

Times have not always been easy,
And yes I do take my fair blame;
Thus a light I see shining ahead brightly,
It calls for an end to the games.

The light of your eyes look down on me,
Warming me with a tender glow;
The promise of tomorrow is forever,
You and I shall see forever, I know.

I can feel the strength in your arms,
When they surround me with your love;
Holding me tight with all your power,
Fitting around me just like a glove.

So much time and memories between us,
All the laughter and tears and pain;
It has formed a web around us,
A cocoon of love we have obtained.

I am safe within your presence,
Your strength draws me in so tight;
The bonds could never be broken,
Not even if they try with all their might.

My heart will be yours forever,
Look into my eyes and you shall see;
No other could love you more purely,
Deep inside is where my love will be.

It started when our eyes met as one,
No words, but the silence was deafening;
Lifetimes passed between us just then,
Destiny’s arms reaching and stretching.

I am yours till death comes calling,
A fate I hope will not come to soon;
For we have hopes and dreams to follow,
And they are as big as the sun and moon.

My darling come sit down beside me,
Hold my hand and never let go;
Let us rock in these chairs forever,
Our love is just now beginning to grow.

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(I know the punctuation is hidious…just trying to see if I can write dialogue comfortably into a short scene)

“Okay, your turn” Jenny said as she fumbled through the CD cases.
stretched out on the floor, Edward twirled a pencil with expert precision through his fingertips. “Picture this. Uncle Thomas, half-tanked on whiskey and wearing Mom’s Santa hat, standing on the back of the sofa getting ready to ‘swan dive’ onto the coffee table!”
“No way! Did he actually do it?”
“Yes, he did!” “And broke two ribs in the process”
Jenny fell back on the floor laughing. Holding her side from the pain of giggling she landed just inches away from Edward. “Don’t you miss those holiday get together’s? All the fun and mayhem. My Mom used to bake for days and days. The house would fill with the smell of cinnamon. Oh! And going to pick out the Christmas tree, that was so much fun. Did your family get a real tree?” she asked catching the scent of his aftershave and grinning to herself.
Their arms brushed as he turned on his side to face her. “Sometimes, but mostly we used the old fake one that has been around for so many years, I can’t even remember. You’re beautiful Jenny.” He blurted out without a second thought.
Feeling the sting of heat welling in her face, she looked up at him. She knew this day was coming and now, here it was. Gazing into his dark eyes she said tenderly “I love you Edward”.
“I think it is about time we started our own holiday traditions” “Don’t you?” he whispered. Slowing moving forward, he placed his hand on the back of her neck and kissed her softly.

(Okay, lay it on me, how bad was that? Besides being completely cheesy!)

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He said, she said

Is it just me, or do most writers have trouble introducing dialogue into their stories? I really do not understand why it is so difficult for me. I am fine with the descriptive aspect, but when the conversation has to start……I just sit there. Any suggestions? Or, is it even possible to give a suggestion for this afflication? *throwing hands up now, but not walking away*

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