Chapter 6 my story and
Weekly challenge-flying, fling and forks.
I am eight years old
We have been flying to Keesler Air Force Base in Biloxi, Mississippi aboard a rickety twin propeller plane leftover from World War 2. My dad is a Master Sargent and will be training the new recruits.
There are no housing units available so we will be temporarily living in a derelict old barracks scheduled to be torn down. The three story buildings are creaky and deserted, but the military has turned on electricity for our unit and placed 9 single cots with metal springs and cotton mattresses covered in ticking for us on the third floor. We each have a pillow and one blanket.
My mother is anxi...
Weekly challenge—dog, journey tears
If I never tried to reach out
Then it would be my fault.
If I never played through
The game would not be over.
So I will blink back tears
And through the years
You will hear from me.
This journey has been rocky
But I cannot be held to blame
For the dying of the flame
Or the void that remains.
So I ask only for
A hug and a kind word,
Not more than you
Would give your dog.
Is that really so hard?
I am seven
It is summer and my year of sharing my mother’s bed is almost over. She smiles lovingly as I press the peanut butter cookies in cross hatch with my fork.
“ you will be going to school in September with your brothers and sisters. You will learn how to read there”
I look at her in shock. How can this be?
“ I can’t go to school. You forgot to teach me how to read”.
I set my feet firmly down on the floor as I climb from the counter. My blood is boiling with indignation.
“ that isn’t how it works dear” she says and looks amused.
“ well Abby and Becky know how to read and they go to school. Roger knows how to read and he goes to school. I am not going to school unless yo...
I saw the storm coming,
But stood my ground
Until it whipped me with a frenzy
And turned my world around.
I lost my way and fumbled
What should have been easy,
Because I wanted the unthinkable.
I wanted to be loved completely.
Some of us are born to be alone
So why do they not tell us that
But fill our head with nonsense?
I am not a princess or a warrior,
I am just me.
Tiny, scared, hiding here
Waiting for the storms to pass.
Let it go..let the whiskey flow
It makes no sense this love of mine,
So uninvited, yet it shows up
And stays long past its time.
Your taste, your smell,
Your touch on my skin,
Buried in sorrow and
Covered in grief,
It shows its face just because
A song is playing
Or someone with blue eyes
Looks in mine...
It’s still only you...
Let the whiskey flow...
Let it go.
Love me for who I am
Love me for always
Or not at all.
Love me strong and completely
Or don’t begin.
Love me more than life
And I will let you in
For I only know how to lay
All my cards on the table
And my game is intense.
Take the whole package
Or go home.
Surprise Airport Embrace
I am six years old
We have moved to Aberdeen,
Maryland which is a surprise as we had not had been in Virginia for long.
As we arrived at the airport we did not see dad as we usually would have done so I ask my mother
“ Why isn’t daddy here?”
“Daddy will be gone for a year little one. He got shipped to an isolated radar site in Newfoundland “
I wonder where that is and my brother Roger chimes in
“ It’s part of Canada “, but of course Roger knows everything.
“But why?” I ask. I must be pestering my mother as her face screws up like a prune.
“Daddy made the Colonel mad so they sent him away” my brother blurts out.
As we settle into a l...
I learned to say goodbye
I learned to walk alone
With no hand to hold
And no shoulder to lean on.
So I let you go in my mind
Although it’s been years since you left.
All those tears were my bath
And I am clean now and just like that
I am new as the green shoots of new plants.
I am who I was born to be after all
And while I could not call it
A wonderful life,
Still I call it mine.
You can’t change the fact that
You just went through a pile of shit..
You can only take your shoes off
And clean your feet
And never walk to that place again.
Buy a new pair of shoes
Keep your head up and your eyes open
And try to stay on the well worn path
To wholeness and sanity.
Through the years
Through the years I collected
Scattered memories of you.
Timeless expressions of sadness
On your weary face
Were the only thing I knew.
And I know I made it hard,
So hard to love me
When I knew you wanted to,
But I had ridden that road before, you see
And could not power through.
So after all this time I ask you
To go easy on me
And remember me
As I remember you..
Warm and loving..
Holding me close..
Clinging to love and hoping
That the world would stop
As, for just a moment, it did.
Incipience is a word
It means lack of wisdom.
Was that my problem?
Was I so unwise that I could not see
that your desire for me
Was weak enough to die at the sight of another?
Was I so unwise that I did not know
How quickly a love could come and go?
Or so unwise that I stayed for more until I could not take it,
And turned against myself
Instead of you?
Yes that is me...so very
Still so after all this Time
My story Chapter 3
I am five.
We are moved again to Fort Lee in Virginia. It is the third place I have lived in. The base housing is imposing, a huge conglomerate of red brick buildings with apartments built on 3 floors.
The only way to tell your building from the others is to know the number. The older children are all going to the same Catholic school and they walk to the bus stop in a center courtyard together.
My mother is giving Kevin a lot of attention now. At 3 years old he is a handful and runs all over the house. In my boredom I watch my sisters go to the courtyard and decide to chance it the next day.
“Mom, can I walk to the bus stop with the big kids this morning?”
I make my e...
Driven, determined, persistent,
Lively, humorous, generous,
Brainiac, daydreamer, perceptive,
My own story- Chapter 2
We are going far away.
“Where is Japan?” I ask my older brother Roger. He is 5 years old and I am only four. “An island we fought in the war. Daddy bombed Tokyo” he says confidently. My brother knows everything.
“Are we going to Tokyo?” I ask softly. “No silly. It was bombed. We are going to Hokkaido. It’s North of Tokyo. It’s very cold”.
I wonder about this place, but my questions always irritate my family so I stay quiet and watch out the window of the plane. Four noisy propellers are whirring outside and clouds are far below us. I fall asleep to the hum and so begins my love of travel. The click clack of rickety trains. The wake at the back of the ocean liner. Th...
WhAt hAppens in A yeAr..
The world turns and tumbling
In it you find you are stumbling
As if we should walk straight
And never hate,
But we do.
So we fall
But not for long.
Our hearts are strong
And Even when the body
Heals the scars don’t last.
If it takes a whole year
To heal a wound on your arm,
Why would your heart take
Any less time?
Stop.. breathe ...let the hate out..
The world turns for a reason
As do we.
Storm, entwined, chasing
He ran to me like the wind,
Chasing my smile with his
Lips to seduce and open
A storm of longing,
A tornado of need,
Until we lay all entwined
Spent out and exhausted
But bound by a silent oath
To stay together.
The feeling remains, long
after the storm has past
That I was better in that
Wind , and so was he.
The healing time
Surrounded by quiet slash pines
In the Florida forest it comes,
A silent thought about the past
As an air conditioner hums.
A reasoning approaches
That says you will get well,
As you learn we all have people
Who have caused our living hell.
And the knowing that is growing in your heart
says you can heal,
Since a truth will hide from no one
Even when it’s all you feel.
Quietly you accept the facts,
shed those tears as free they flow,
For your mind heals first and then your heart and so
.. Home ..
“We had a good thing going.
But you couldn’t keep your promise and it destroyed what we had” she cried. He looked at her and his eyes had the fear of a caged animal. He had no sorrow or remorse, only the fear of being exposed.
He was a man without a conscience, a serial seducer of women. He had no feelings but desire and when that was satisfied he moved on to another victim.
Yet until now no woman had challenged him like this and it shook him to the core.
He had viewed himself as a “good person” but the woman who called him out for cheating was showing him how the rest of the world would judge him.
As he watched her pack to leave him he was filled with regret for the first time ...
Goodbye is just a new beginning.
Sometimes I wonder why I have so many of both.
Maybe I just like new Hellos.
It’s storytime now, as I know you.
You will make up a story
Rather than admit what you blew.
I will know it should stink crazy
But to me it’s the Rose I smell
And all the lies are hazy.
So I will let you love me again,
As you strum my strings like your guitar
And weep tomorrow for loss of all,
But tonight I want to fall for your story and read your body as my
Turn out the lights so I can read in the dark,
Turning your pages as I feel
For that line that says love.
Tell me that story again..tell it...
Tell him without insults.. hard to do .. want to call him a jerk or a bastard.
Tell him what he did.. the big mistakes first and then the small barbs after.
Tell him how you felt...of all the raw pain, the knife in your heart, the humiliation of rejection
Leave nothing unsaid...
Tell him why it matters now...because getting over it is not an option and moving on is a cliche..
If you don’t tell him... he will lie to himself about what he did..he will brush it aside and think it was not that cruel...
And he will hurt another woman...
Is that what you want?
Speak up woman
Always my best friend
Through every fire and storm.
Winds around us buffet love
And leave us tired and torn.
But we are a pair, you and I,
And could not survive alone.
We worked our whole life
To makes this house a home.
Take me in your arms today
And tell me you still need me,
That I may be the woman kept
And you the love that feeds me.
Love that stays..holds..comforts
Did you know?
You had me at that first kiss
43 years ago.
I sit in silence every day.
Visitors, they come —they stay awhile,
And leave always disappointed..
(I don’t smile ).
They know I’ve fallen off a limb
(Or so to speak)
And go away with “Ahh! I always knew—she was so wild
As a child !”
I find my bliss in silence,
My mirth in my secret—
And never, never let them know
I fell off the limb of love.
My own Story-Chapter 1
The church is an old 1940s white clapboard with an entrance steeple, called nondenominational by the officials at Macdill Air Force Base in Florida. The Jews used it on Friday but the Catholics took up all the time on Sunday morning. The steps are very wide so I cannot hold on to the rail. My mother, a beautiful woman of 33yo walks at the head of the family beside my father carrying my one year old brother.
After that the other 7 children line up in a row from oldest to youngest in single file. I am 3 years old, the 7th of 8 children.
People on either side smirk at the size of our family.. I catch snippets of words like “rabbits” and “busy”.
I am afraid of strange...
I can still feel your kiss on fire,
Taste of warm honey and a buzz of cinnamon,
An ache in my throat
As I peer through my tears.
So sad to know that it’s not forever and next year will come too soon.
Your memory will fade and heart harden,
But I will Be forever longing
For this moment in Time,
To taste your cinnamon honey lips just once more
I grieved alone all those years
And not a soul saw my tears
Cutting ridges in my face.
I was unable to forgive
Until I shared my grief
And then the sky opened
And sunlight warmed me.
Who knew that the person
Who caused my grief
Would be the one
To banish it?
A little piece of love...
After the humiliation and the
Where anger is forever and
Vengeance feels insistent.
After I have spent so many
Hours cursing my misfortune
To have met you,
Surprisingly there grows
A tiny sprig of love that
Pushes up through the dirt
And sweet the perfume
That wafts around my head
As I recall a kiss pushing
On my lips
That made me feel alive
And in some small way
There is still enough love to forgive you.