Letting Go, But Not Forgetting

“I remember every detail of that day. I lose sleep over that day. I dream about holding him, hugging him, rubbing his tummy, and loving him. If only I had a dream catcher that actually worked”

I’m thinking of you, my friend.

Free Bird

The funeral was the worst. As I walked up to the funeral home, his dad was standing outside, and I gave him a big hug. I’d never met him before this tragedy. As tears streamed down his face and his shirt was drenched in sweat, I hugged him tightly as my own tears fell on his shoulder. I told him how sorry I was and how I knew nothing I could say would make any of this okay. I thought I would going to pass out before I even walked into that building. My heart was pounding so hard and I thought I was going to have a panic attack.

As I walked up to the casket, my heart fell into my stomach. As his small body lay there in his little white suit with his baby blue bow tie, he looked so peaceful. I cried. I actually bawled. I…

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Angel Baby

Free Bird

It was the worst day of my life. This day changed my life forever. It is ingrained in my memory like cement. That night has replayed in my mind over and over again without ceasing. It’s like a never ending tragic movie that just doesn’t seem real- yet it is very real.  After receiving the phone call that he was missing, I was driving as fast as I could with my heart beating out of my chest. I already knew what happened. In the depths of my heart, I expected the worst. As we turned down the street, it was like the scene out of a movie. Fire trucks, police cars, and crowds of rescuers and neighbors were gathered around the house, searching, confused and panicked. My heart sank and chills ran up my spine. So many cars were there, we had to park down the street. As we frantically…

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The Wonder of Yourself

Great post, great links, lets blog!!!!
In the words of OM “comments disabled here”

yadadarcyyada

https://yadadarcyyada.com/2017/04/06/the-wonder-of-you-blog-party/

Sometimes, trying to write, or trying to blog, I think, it’s all been done? Is there anything new under this sun or any other? This world is old, ancient, instead of getting discouraged that it’s all been done, why not be inspired? What piece can we add to the puzzle of flesh and blood? Why not add to the delicious soup of humanity?

https://yadadarcyyada.com/2017/04/06/the-wonder-of-you-blog-party/

1. Imagine the caveman/cavewoman who invented the wheel, thinking, “Aggh, me done, no more wheel”. Our ancestors roasting a woolly mammoth s’more over the first fire, “Fire good. No more. Been done”.

https://yadadarcyyada.com/2017/04/06/the-wonder-of-you-blog-party/

2. Remember the first song you heard? Did you think, no need to hear any more music.

https://yadadarcyyada.com/2017/04/06/the-wonder-of-you-blog-party/

3. First joke? You laughed and thought, did that, no need to laugh anymore.

https://yadadarcyyada.com/2017/04/06/the-wonder-of-you-blog-party/

4. Can there ever be enough smiles? Enough laughter? Enough joy?

https://yadadarcyyada.com/2017/04/06/the-wonder-of-you-blog-party/

5. First kiss? Wow. Checked that off your list.

https://yadadarcyyada.com/2017/04/06/the-wonder-of-you-blog-party/

6. Watched the…

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Pro Bono Editing

This is a kind gesture and I wanted to thank you!

Minnie Musings

I don’t know about you, but several times I’ve visited blogs and read posts where the writer has great content but has a few spelling and/or grammar issues mixed in. I don’t blame them. We all make mistakes and I used to be a horrible speller, but out of a desire to be helpful I’m tempted to post a comment to correct their mistake(s).

Maybe you’ve had the same urge. You’re not being superior or critical, you just want to give a fellow writer a hand. But it’s so…AWKWARD. What if they take it wrong? What if others take it wrong? What if they think you’re just stuck up and nosy?

But I do sincerely want to help anyone who would appreciate it. So, on a first-come-first-serve basis, (time permitting) I’m giving a standing offer to edit up to five posts daily (one post per person).

Now I’m…

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Blogging Is NOT Writing

I have read more blogs in the last three years far more than I have written. I agree with everything you’ve said in this post. I get more out of what you have to say about blogging than if I typed the word into my search engine. Thank you, for all you do!
“Comments disabled here”

HarsH ReaLiTy

I think people just like to argue.

Blogging is sharing ANYTHING on a form of media. That “anything” can be writing, photos, food recipes, poetry, pictures of your dog… whatever!

Writers write. Photographers post photos. Cooks post recipes. WE ALL BLOG! We are NOT all writing!

Why is differentiating the two so important to me? That is simple to answer. I help to clarify the line between blogging and writing as a writer because I am ALSO a social media networker. What the hell do you all think I do all day? I don’t ONLY write and I don’t ONLY publish blog posts all day. I network, I meet and greet, I engage, I socialize – I BLOG! That is the portion of blogging that so many people miss.

Why do people miss the correlation between blogging and their personal form of expression? People want to be noticed, obviously. They…

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Leaning into the Lyre–On the Occasion that You Need Hope

A, I know this post is a few days old. I still want to share. Maybe, someday. I will be able to link to you, exactly what kind of clarity you gave me in my own life. I recommend to people, reading her links she has also laid out for us. In the words of Victo in a previous comment. “You put together some of the most beautiful post” Thank you, again!

dearlilyjune

Dear Lily June,

I’ve probably said this to you before, but one major part of being a writer is being a collector. It’s both crazy-making and healing: Every image I’ve seen is seared into my brain, every passage I’ve read has been packed tightly in the chaotic library shelves of my mind.

Having a mental illness that causes me to organize, list, store, and obsess usually aids me creatively. But how does having a creative habit that causes me to hoard, compare, ruminate and obsess affect me mentally? That cuts both ways, sometimes driving me into despair, other times giving me hope that pain can always be channeled into poetry.

When you can’t let things go, you can’t let them go. Every pain I experience, read or write is an echo. It’s a steel-winged irony.

***

Still, I know that dwelling too deeply–diving down into the same waters that, at points like this, threaten to drown me–isn’t…

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Toilet Stall Wisdom

Raphi, thanks for sharing such great graffiti, your blog always reminds me of the good in the world!

Raphaela Angelou

These were discovered in a toilet stall at a young people’s theatre. The writings really spoke to me, and I had to photograph them. I wonder where these kids are now; whether they are still performing? I hope that they all have grand lives and I thank them for their ponderings.

‘Acting isn’t about putting masks on-But taking them off.’ Indeed, young sage.

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The Oldsmobile

Life In My Tin Can

Childhood

Being  lean in age and money my dad bought a car to get him from “Point A to Point B”

The olds did just this for my dad

Today it holds a bittersweet memory

The car was a lighter brown and long like the long hours my dad worked to support his family on his own

There were four doors only three worked

The driver side door would not open a reminder of being the family of three we were

The driver side mirror was shattered spider webbed out where you could see my dads broken reflection

Symbolic to all the years he drove around single with a broken heart

The passage side door we all climbed in

Was heavy like the love that my brother and I carry for our hero of a dad

The brownish red interior of the car hung low

like the low times we…

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A Mother Reaching Out

New Hampshire Nana


I could create a long blog post but the supplied link is self explanatory if clicked on giving insight into what’s become a parental nightmare of sorts. I have never asked for any help in my 53 years of life and it runs deep but when it’s your child your watching deteriorate in front of your eyes the terror is pure and real.

During his extended hospital stay of being non insured I have witnessed actions by staff that are unimaginable at Maine Medical Center. There are good people there but also the larger problem of assembly line medicine and patients by numbers. My son is not by far out of danger, but back in his home if only temporarily. I’d be lying if I said my happy-go-lucky personality hasn’t taken a huge hit in hopelessness the past few weeks. I started a fundraiser in hopes of ascertaining rent for…

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