I know how much you’ve missed me… I’ve been missing you too. And that’s on the real.
I think, all of you, will be happy to know, I’m reading my second book since the year 2009. I’m bound and determined to finish what I’ve started. I ask that you stay with me, through my hiatus?
The book I’m reading, is “fiction”.
To tell the truth I’m not a fan of fiction. I thrive on real life stories of people who have survived addictions, abuse, and illnesses.
I love when people dig into themselves and all their obstacles life has given them.
The book, I’m reading, might be based on SOME truths. In my opinion!
I believe the Lord does give us visions and dreams. I have written about them in some of my blogs.
Yes, the book is about an encounter with God!
One time, I dreamed, I was walking on clouds in the sky.Walking cotton ball after cotton ball. For miles.
To my right there were tables with blinding white tablecloths. There were people of all kinds surrounding these tables.
They all had porcelain skin, skin so radiant their glow would guide you through any black night. They were watching me, and I them.
The walk didn’t seem to bother me.
I felt time on my side, and nothing hanging on my shoulders. I felt like a piece of fuzz from a dandelion someone blew into the air.
The people whom turned my head, appeared the same way.
In front of me, far into the distance.
I seen a woman with her hand up. She waved back and forth, like a flag in a gentle breeze. At first I squinted my eyes, and forehead, in wonder, who this could be?
I got closer, and recognized my Grandma.
She looked to be in her late forties early fifties. Her skin smooth and radiant just like I described the other people to you..
Her hair was short, black, thick, freshly, curled, and set. I waved back at her as she stared into my eyes, with that smile that lit up her cheeks. I had to keep moving with the clouds and she kept moving too, staying in the distance, letting me know she’s always with me.
A GIFT from God, I BELIEVE to get me through the times we are not together…
Describe your last nightmare. What do you think it meant?
All last week I was busy, with my regular job, side job and spending time with family that I haven’t been able to sit-down and write. I couldn’t wait until today. I have a few hours for myself. I had planned on writing to all of you but my slate was blank. Then as I was looking at my reader my eyebrows raised up from the dead!
Nightmares: They have stuck by me my entire life. I can’t say that I have never had a good dream because it would be a lie. I wrote a poem not so long ago about windows which didn’t actually turn out the way I seen it but was one of the most symbolic dreams of my life. Do I believe dreams have a meaning? Yes, sometimes it’s a direct line from god to you. Go ahead and chuckle. We all have gifts and it says so here.
My friend Christy decided to move to a gated community. She asked me to think about moving in? I decided to pop in for an unannounced visit one evening! It was spitting rain, foggy and only a few cars sat in the parking lot. I got out of my car to no voices, no birds chirping or wind blowing. I walked up the steel stairs to apartment number thirty-eight and loudly knocked! the door opened slow as she peeked her head from behind it, bleakly staring at me without a word. She walked over to her card table. On top of it was a black rotary phone. The phone rang and startled the crap out us! She answered hello in a mono tone voice. she answered yes, no, and said Thank you? After she hung up she informed me she was going to step outside. I watched her walk down the stairs, pass the parking lot, to a vacant, dusty, storage unit. I decided to head down there. Upon arrival, my friend of twenty some years was holding a cigarette and trying to hide it. After all these years? I was just about ready to say something. Then out of nowhere I heard my name being called. It was muffled and faint but it was my name. I squinted my eyes looking around for whoever it was. Then over by the stairs I saw what looked to be an old man with a brown, dirty, tattered cloak that covered is head. He barely made my name out as he motioned me over. The closer I got I noticed he or she was cradling something in his hand. When we came up on one another I could barely see his face to make out the sex of what was in front of me. The small baby he cradled in one arm looked like a blow up toy that had just been deflated. He held the baby out as to offer me to take him, I wept over his lifeless body as I wrapped my arms around him for a better grip. He opened up his mouth and took a bite out of my arm with his three sharp pointy teeth, I pressed through the pain without loosing a stride. We walked over to the storage shed, and went inside. The light rica shade off the glossy tiles making them look like porcelain, the showers were on and a blanket of clear water covered the tiles and my bare feet. I lathered the baby up with soap, hugs, and kisses over and over with each piece of affection his lifeless body begun to fill up. He became the full, beautiful, thriving baby he was created to be all because of love life was restored.
A fellow blogger of mine wrote a post sometime ago about “The Green Eyed Monster” asking what wakes “the monster for you?”
Write an anonymous letter to someone you’re Jealous of!
I may raise my eyebrow here and there when I hear people my age have degrees. I have always wanted to go to college and “make” something of myself. School didn’t come easy to me at all. They’re lots of people in the world who are successful and it didn’t come easy. When looking back, I could have made better choices. When taking a few college classes years ago. I could have applied myself better, stuck it out, and got the help I needed at the time. Yes, it would have taken me longer than SOME but it could and still can be done. I’m not sure this is what defines jealousy?
If you look Jealousy up in the Wikipedia it’s an emotion. The word refers to negative thoughts and feelings of insecurity, anger, anxiety over anticipated loss of something reference to human connection. The word these day’s is also distinct from envy. This is my confession letter.
I want to openly share because I’m hoping to find some clarity in my writing and accept your non friendship request you made all those years ago. I want good tidings for you, instead of the opposed.
We were in our elementary years. My family and yours would get together yearly. We’d run off to the park over the green hill in our dresses into the sunshine laughing and carrying on about who would go higher on the swing. We’d swing for what seemed to be hours, we’d discuss what we were going to be when we grew up, and we were going to do it together. We were both girly, wanting the same girly things joining the dance team, hanging out together without our parents, and even discussing our future together as doctors or lawyers. Many times after our family gatherings we’d go home and call each other the next morning talking and giggling about what we did the day before. We had so much fun that sometimes we’d ask my grandma if she would bring me over the next day. she’d visit with your mom and dad while we played Barbie dolls the whole time up in your room until it was time to leave.
The gatherings lasted four or five years but the friendship slipped away year after year. Yes, we would talk but each year got different. You got different, you still wore dresses, matching little outfits, with matching bows in your beautiful long black shiny hair, you went to gymnastic, dance, and competed in one more activity, you won many ribbons and trophies, you maintained your activities just like your parents maintained their marriage, you became friends with the kids who done the exact things as you, which didn’t include me. I still called you every chance I got hoping we could continue the friendship. One time your mom answered the phone. She said you “weren’t there” but then you yelled “mom who is it”
I caught that Brooks mom!
you let me go ahead and talk to her but the damage was done
You became friends with an acquaintance of mine, I grew jealous of as well. I didn’t understand what she had that I didn’t? One time when asking our acquaintance if I could go with her to your house she informed me her father told her I was only jealous of the relationship and didn’t want to miss out on what you two were doing. Which is true. At that point in my life it wasn’t in a mean or vindictive way. She also shared with me how you were upset that I had asked to come along. I was scared of things you two weren’t scared of and would only hinder your fun. When I heard that and what her father had shared as well, it hurt my feelings. I sobbed like a baby right in front of her! that day all of you confirmed to me everything I thought I was in one day. My feelings after my grief shifted that day to anger which led to hate.
We ran into each other a couple times in our twenties. We both had are own places, you even had that law degree. imagine that! You were still as slender and beautiful as you are now. You had a few people with you, you introduced me as a “distant” friend whatever the hell that means? at thirty when my grandma died you and your mother came up to me to send regards, you told me you would like to have lunch sometime. My response was “you get a hold of me I’m in the book.” You never did which came to know surprise. The straw that broke the camels back was after my twin boys passed away your mom sent a card to me and signed you and your husband’s name. I saved all the other cards. I tossed your moms in file thirteen.
I realize it may have been a bit creepy pressing you to be my friend all those years. In writing this letter just as I assumed I realize it’s not anger as much as it’s hurt and humiliation. I can read maybe a couple of things you supposedly told someone, could possibly be a lie especially now that we’re older I see her in a different light than when we were younger. I will take this into consideration in my stinking way of thinking. These feelings are lousy, yet sit on each shoulder-blade playing tug a war with each other battling over the right and wrong (flesh and spirit.) The wrong has a strong hold on me but my soul is saying these feelings are not right. The anger built up it turned it into a fight.
A fight with myself
My whole life I believed I was trash because of what others had said to me or about my looks. I have chosen to believe them and allow everyone except myself give me an identity. Which is odd because none of you know me? I’m a thirty something year old woman. I’m married to a good man, he’s been my friend, we have a son and he’s a doll face, I have a group of friends who love me and my shaded life, my job is good and brings me joy, we don’t make much but we pay the bills, and have a bit left over to say yes to Gabe more than no. I’m just as happy as you are even if were not picture perfect, Let me save you the suspense no one is. The most beautiful family pictures are photo shopped they don’t define people or there lives, neither does money. Lots of people have looks, lots of people have money but everyone has day’s in the shade!
Do you have animals in your life? If no, why have you opted not to?
I have recently drifted from the 101, however I will eventually finish what I started. It may not be right on schedule but someday I will get it done. When I saw the prompt about our animals my mind started flooding about my dog, Murphy. He’s a Yorkie. He was mine first and foremost. My mom Linda called me out of the clear blue sky shortly after my “grams” passed away. She told me she was coming to get me we were going to go on a ride.
So let me inform y’all about my mom Linda. When she calls ya out of the blue and tells you she is on her way to pick you up, clap your hands together, keep them together swiftly rubbing them like you’re warming yourself up because something good is about to come your way. Linda is hard to catch and always on the go for the good of the family. If you ever get a chance to take a ride with her she is one train you don’t want to miss!
The trip was long. I can’t even tell you exactly where the place was. We went through five towns to get there,towns you only hear about on the weather radio. You know the ones you google and they only have like ten people living in them? uh yea, most of the driving consisted of narrow bumpy roads and lots of fields. One point on the car ride I had chalked it up that she had, had enough of my deep dark side and was going to end it for both of us. This is only a glimpse of how my imagination runs away with itself. I guess that is what I get for being a complete horror nut most of my life. My favorite seat in the house as a child was on grams lap eating sauerkraut from the jar, watching Hitchcock, Tales from The Darkside, and whatever mystery or horror grams had on. The older I got it just progressed maybe one day y’all can get a load of my nightmares.
We finally got to our destination.
An old house, on an old road, with an old farm. My mom pulled up into the driveway right next to a white utility van with no windows. The van looked to be old, It had rust in random spots, dents that looked as if during a high-speed chase they hit whatever was in their way and kept going. To the left was a cage th
[/caption]at had about five sections, each cage had three or four adult dogs in them. There was what I thought to be a chicken coop behind the cage? The house was white and it even looked as if it were lopsided. I sat in the car with my hand on the door handle observing and debating about getting out, Linda says in a firm tone let’s go! and gets out of the car quickly. I’m still holding on to the door handle. She says whats wrong? Well first of all were in the middle of no where, no one is coming outside to meet us, I’m just letting you know if we have to scream, screaming ain’t going to get anyones attention around here its going to fuel the flame. I don’t know if this is safe… My mom being my mom “Shelley get out of the car!” we walked up to the door Linda leading me, I’m trailing behind mumbling “as I walk through the valley of the shadow of death.” She motions me with her hand and an a violent whisper, “get over here!” she knocks on the door, we wait for a few moments, Linda is all up in the screen doing a side to side type thing with her head trying to get a glimpse of someone or something but cannot see through all the residue on the window. This wasn’t helping the thoughts that were playing out in my head. The lady cracks the screen only sticking her nose out. “Do you have the Yorkies for sale says Linda?” The lady stepped out of the door and kid you not. You know the grandma in Texas Chainsaw massacre? Yep same physique and hair do. I could have been too far into my imagination but I was scared out of my wits! She said “follow me” you know that chicken coop we discussed earlier? We’re headed right towards it. I whispered in Linda’s ear let’s just go home? “shut up Shelley” when she opened the door of the coop the smell of dog poo took your breath away, you couldn’t escape a fly, the dogs barking and yelping sounded like human cries for help, and the medium-sized cages with more than one dog in them was an animal lovers worst nightmare.
I was in a puppy mill for the first time in my life and was over whelmed with sadness, helplessness and anger. The company surrounding me was obviously not on the same page. (I stood there as my mom walked forward with the lady from the massacre) and looked around at miles upon miles of puppies. Linda says where are the yourkies? We headed to the back to the far left corner of the coop. This particular cage sat lower than the rest and was a bit longer in size, In the corner all curled up was my dog “this is the last one he was the biggest out of the litter” and I reckon that is why nobody took him.” My mom said “he is yours if want him?” yep let’s go! My mom chuckled as the lady handed Murphy to me. She said “are you sure this is the dog you want?” are you kidding? This is who we came for and this is who we’re leaving with, he shook as he always does when he’s scared. She handed him to me, his cage was right by the door so I made a mad dash outside. When Murphy saw the light for the first time he could barely open his eyes, when I put him down on the ground he marched in one place getting used to the grass, after he did his business he walked over putting his paw on my shoe letting me know to pick him up.
My mom did the deal with the devil and we were on our way!
Murphy has always showed his appreciation of my rescue that day. He has been exactly what my mom bought him for, my grief. Through my grams, through my foster child, our twins and a few of my residents. He knows my grief cry compared to any other cry. He is patient when the grief comes, it’s almost like he knows I need that time to mourn. He will walk slowly over to where I’m lying and every time a tear falls he nestles right under my neck as if he is trying to catch every single one.
Sitting here at the kitchen table this A.m it’s cold, quiet and peaceful in the “Tin Can” an owl is outside hooting and I am at the table writing my thoughts down over a warm cup of coffee.
I sit here thinking about dropping Gabe off at school this morning, it’s becoming a daily thought. Every morning when dropping him off at school before he goes in, he turns around and blows me a kiss. Lately it’s been something I sit and wait for, even though the cars behind me are most likely in a rush? It’s our time, shortly it will be but another artifact that we tuck away in the chambers of our hearts.
The thing about the heart is it never gets full of all the places and moments we have been in. The more you open it up and stuff it with the Good things, when the bad things happen you always have a place to go.
Recently,I had to take a trip to the hospital. Lets not go into why, because it’s not my focus for the few people reading. However it does not down play that I was afraid. I laid their scared, cold, and worried that they wouldn’t get the problem under control or maybe they’re was more going on… After making a few phone calls and being to upset about the situation, I had to get a handle on myself and by doing so I go back to the phantoms of my yester years.
I closed my eyes
This particular memory reminds me of a warm blanket and it covers me and my fears.
The day was dark, foggy and rainy not the hard rain though more like a mist! I was not feeling well at all. A few days after my open heart surgery as a child, being a kid you don’t express your sickness the way you do when you’re an adult. This is why we have parents or what the definition is as a parent to me. My “step mom” Lin came up by herself for some reason and asked me how I was feeling? I didn’t say much but looking back from now to then, I didn’t have too. She pulled up a chair next to me and just sat there not saying a word. To be honest I couldn’t tell you how long she sat there either. When I did wake up she had put this giant red heart balloon with legs and a smiley face in place of where she sat.
though the day outside remained dark, wet, and ugly it lit everything up including myself. So I took that day and shoved it inside one of my chambers and you will forever be sitting there with your umbrella catching all the rain and reminding me in every dark place there is a little bit of light.
Once upon a time, “Grams” took my older brother and I too our first movie. The movie title has always been the title of how I get through life and where you will usually find me in the raising of my own son and it’s “Places In The Heart”
As a young girl my grandma helped my dad out a lot on the weekends. When my dad had to work. On Friday’s she would come to get me and my brother.
My grandma was a bit more laid back then my father with getting our way. We’d go shopping for clothes, toys, and out to eat. You know the things most grandmas do?
She always enjoyed having us stay over.
The second you walked into her house it was like walking into a different world. She would greet us with a smile and hug. My childhood troubles would be lifted like a book-bag loaded with seven or eight books at her door. She would ask questions about our lives. What our you working on in school? Do you like your teacher? hows your dad been? I would answer her questions but tell her more about the bullies in my life. She’d quietly waited til I was done talking and tell me she was sorry to hear those things and that she loved me and to her I was special.
All the way up into my late twenties we continued to have a healthy relationship. I would still go over and stay all night. We continued shopping, going out to eat, and taking long drives, especially in the fall to see all the leaves changing colors.
In Illinois we have lots of trees one on top of the other so our falls here are stunning it’s worth the while. Sometimes we would just stay in. Those times were my favorites because we would talk for hours about her past with my grandpa, my future, shed tell me stories about her siblings, and all the places she traveled with her friends George and Dorothy.
During those times around her house my “Grams a Million” would always wear her night-gown. She dressed up to the nines when she went out. The clothes she wore she liked but some of them not so comfortable so if she was home she always had her night-gown on.
The gown was slick and light. They were not attractive at all. She had a million of them in a million different colors. They had a peasant low-cut neck, if you didn’t tie it with the dull drab strings, you could see some of her pale chest. The sleeves were short and airy, they had bolts of red, blue, and purple all over that looked liked streaks of lighting.
The backdrop of the gowns were black which made her blue eyes, pale skin, and short dark hair standout. The gown stopped below her knees. she was short and you could see her skinny white legs. She was always barefoot when she was home. Which I loved. To me it said she wasn’t in a hurry. You could take off your shoes and stay awhile.
Many late evenings when we were lounging around watching the Golden Girls in her night gowns. I sat and watched her rocking in her orange chair. knowing that one day this time would no longer be… Maybe that was odd but its the truth. We have to embrace that our loved ones will not be with us on earth forever.
I am so thankful and blessed for the twenty-eight years we had together.
Shortly after her passing I was able to go over to her house by myself. I walked through the house slowly touching and going over everything she had worked hard for all her. Like I was in a museum of old artifacts listening to her explain all the details of each piece. I thought it would bother me seeing it all packed and piled high.
At the end of my journey picking through things wondering if I should take this or that… With a deep sigh, I walked into her room, opened her drawer full of night-gowns, Anyone would do. She wore them all. I grabbed her old photo albums, laid across her bed, admiring her younger years, and pretending she was there with me.
When I left that day I took her one night-gown with me because it was my Million Dollar Treasure.
Every now and again I deep clean parts of my house and it’s always the kitchen, because it is where I spend most of my time. No, not always cooking and eating!
Steve and I sit at the table in the morning on our days off catching up with one another about the week, we color and often go over Gabes letters and numbers and when my friends come by its usually where we sit in catch up.
When my grandma was living and even in my parents house til this day, like I said before the table has never “caught anything but good food and conversation” this has been an ongoing memory of mine.
One conversation my mind goes back to is a vacation I came back from visiting a childhood friend in the Black Hills of South Dakota. I don’t have a lot of time to go into detail about the vacation right now.
When I got back home I went straight over to “grams” house afterwards and she loved to travel as well, so she fixed us a cup of coffee and sat them down at her kitchen table and told me to tell her all about my trip.
In the middle of the conversation I started crying because it was so hard leaving the company of a good friend and the scenery was just as peaceful and beautiful as the talks my friend and I shared during the visit. Grabbing my hand and comforting me as she always did she said “sweetheart” ” a Vacation would not be a vacation if we didn’t have to come home” and she was right, it never would have been what it was to me if I had lived there.
My “grams” gave me wisdom, comfort, she also gave me my dad who is lots more like her than he cares to admit. He too can tell you the truth as well but silence the pistol and you can hear the conversation that is going on inside the conversation. All this came to me today when cleaning and finding a gift from Qvc she gave me years ago that we didn’t need then but we could sure use now.
Eight years almost on the twenty-eighth you been gone “grams” and your still here with me, you knew what you were doing all those years and because of all those evening and morning talks at your table I just close my eyes and their you are and once again you silence the pistol of being gone.