Places in the heart
I have been nominated by Dru, to post three quotes for a three-day challenge. Thank you, Dru, for thinking of my blog. If you haven’t noticed my writing is like the process of sap collection to make maple syrup.
I challenge any one of my readers who would like to participate, in this challenge!
I have been nominated by Dru, three quotes for three days challenge, thank you for thinking of my blog. I look forward to reading more about your life!
These challenges should be for anyone who wants to do them. I’m not sure, why certain people have to be picked. Who knows. I have waited a long time to participate in this challenge. I’m going to spare you on how long. I should have just hopped on the train and not cared. I should have done the challenge anyway. If it’s in you, to hop on board, the three-day challenge of quotes, don’t let this dinky linky blog hold you back!!
The storm outside tonight wants to let loose but it’s stagnating, like my mind right now. The thunder sounds like a jet flying back and forth, waiting to drop a bomb. I want to type a post, but there is much on my mind, as always. Once in a while I get set free, but not tonight. So with this said, I have decided to share some post that have stood out to me. I will dedicate it to my two-hundred followers, this will also make blog post one-hundred-one. Go us!
My first shout out will always go to Diane from HOMETOGO232. Diane, writes about her mother, husband, kids, and sister. I can feel the love her single mother had for her, in her writing. There is a sweetness that fills your cup of tears, and overflows you with joy. She was my first follower, and also the first one to get me established on this platform. She took me under her wing, explaining things step by step, (on computer mind you) encouraging my writing. She became friends with me on fb and when I would post a story on their and was not writing on here. She would ask “why don’t you post this on your blog” and she did this on more than one occasion. In her blogroll her explanation of my blog says: “I write from the heart” it makes me feel good, about what I do write. I had to do a double take of what she wrote, because I have read a few blogs that I consider “from the heart” and don’t think I measure up. However, Diane thank you for the compliment and keeping me going.
My second shout out is, dearlilyjune. I not only read this blog, but learn as well. The post I linked you to, is a favorite of mine. However, I have more than one. This post, built me a road to drive on for miles that was not there before. I had always looked at certain poems, and said they were over my head, deeper than my own water-well. Poems like this one, which I love and she introduced that poem to me on this post. My good friend Freebird also writes poems and after reading dearlilyjunes post it came together because some poetry freebird writes is stuff only she knows, secrets from certain times in her life. When I asked her to break-down certain parts, she said no. Dearlilyjunes taught me that I don’t need to understand word for word what the poet is trying to say. In her post she explains how to look at poetry from another light. I had been under the wrong impression and thank her for broaden my horizons. I want you to do what makes you happy, A. I can’t wrap this blip up without telling you what a great teacher you are, I do hope you re-consider.
My third shout out, is Freebird, If you all don’t know, we know one another, from my current job. She has found greener grass else where, and is using her degree. If you click on her name, it will take you, to one of my favorite blogs from her. I’m not a single mother. I have two good friends who had to raise their kids on their own. I think this post she wrote, is lovely, and hope a few more people stop by and read what she has to say. I don’ know how life feels for her, but she explains single motherhood well in this post. She grabbed my heart from start to finish. I would like to see a few of her own head over as well!
My fourth shout out, is The Hill Billy Blogger, one of the reasons I love this post, is because, I came across this beauty when writing my own blog about my first love, there is also a second half. I love reading and writing on this platform. I feel something divine is going on. If we read about others and their lives, it helps to make our own way through this life. In the first post about my first love. I told you, how I was restless with the way it ended. I began to read and took time to write my second post, and it clearly shows an example of divine intervention.
My fifth shout, is The Playground, I enjoy this blog because it’s fun. She is friendly and always responds to her comments. She has a lot of quizzes, interesting facts, animals, and its an inviting blog. This post she posted not to long ago about Dr. Seuss was interesting, informative, and a bit of a spoiler on such a great writer, but without her fishing I never would have known. I suggest if you have not checked out her playground you go do so.
My Sixth shout is Harsh Reality, this is a short post. This post is ONE of my favorites Om. I’m a bit embarrassed to say why I like it as much as I do. I’m going to tell everyone, because you have taught me in your writing it’s okay to be myself on this platform, regardless of what others say. This post is short and sweet and made me feel like you were writing to me.
If you would like to spread the love, post a link to a blog or a post you love, you would make my day.
The pain I experienced was nothing I prepared for back then. I was single through high-school and after, someone came a long and changed my life. My lonely nights, to late night calls, beside my parents, hugs. He hugged me as if he were holding onto his own life, he asked me how I was. And questioned my past. We talked about his past, and at the time I just was not catching on
My friend, Cher, came and picked me up one day. She said she was “taking me up to the big city to find him”. We went to his sister apartment. She got into our car and showed us where you were staying. The place didn’t have all the windows, the skirting was unraveling like yarn, the yard had no grass, and there was blue-tarp over the roof. I can’t believe at the time, my eyes were sewn shut but they were. You took ten-minutes to come out and greet me. You looked whiter than normal, thinner than remembered, The black circles you had around your eyes are still embedded in my mind. You grabbed both of my hands and whispered to me “what are you doing here” I had to see you, and thought I deserved to know where you were… “Go back home.” I promise, I will call you tomorrow at twelve” I never got the call. But our phone did ring, my parents had them all locked up in their bedroom because I had been making long distance calls.
Eight months later I moved to the big city because I crashed my car. I moved in with my best friend. My friend Cher came up to visit me. She knew where you still stood with me. She said “let’s go over to his sisters” we did and you were there. I walked over and sat on the coach beside you. You were thinner than last time, you still had those black circles under your eyes, You would not look on either side, just straight ahead and you never said one word. We wrapped up talking to your sister, and on my way out, I turned around and asked if I could have a pen. I wrote down my phone number on the paper with a note. I walked over to you and tucked the piece of paper in your sweaty palm, you opened it right up, shook your head and smiled. I heard from you on and off after our visit. I chased after you, a few more times, and told myself, I was finished. However, a few months after I decided to throw in the towel. You showed up at my job, where I waitresed, you said nothing to me, as you waited for your pizza. I said nothing to you as well, not because I didn’t want too, but because I was mad. I got a phone call that night from you, you said you wanted a chance and that you would call me after you got off work.
The other night at the grocery store, seeing you, took me right back, to those moments in my life. The feelings I had did not follow the now. I told my mom how upset I was that they were not there and wished it wouldn’t have happened. She said “you got what you have been looking for, closure and closure is what you needed’
My friend Chris over the last six years has told me “give it up woman” she don’t understand why I hold on. She says “he’s the one who got away” I will ask her, do you think he did care? and she will say “no” he would be here if he did.” Another friend of mine, three said to me a couple of weeks ago it’s “your story, you’re a writer, why don’t you come up with your own ending?”
Dearlilyjune: Once wrote a memory of “Eddie” a guy she dated in her past. Even though, the story is different. These words stood out to me in neon flashing lights. I had an A-ha moment.”I stopped talking to him altogether. And it was the cruelest and kindest thing I could think of. And he, whether he felt it at the time or not, was lucky to be free of me”.
We didn’t say too much to one another besides the same old hi how are you, I may, may, I tell you been a little nervous, and picked up a Lipton tea package, turned it over acting like I was reading the package/ingredients because I was nervous. And said “Oh hell, it’s just Lipton”. You walked away to go stock another shelf. I could tell this wasn’t a moment you wanted to be in. I trailed behind you hoping, before the end of the aisle you would give me some sort of an apology and it did not come.
And this quote from -Leo Christopher landed in my lap a week ago today and clarity comes to my mind. I believe we get answer to our questions through other’s. The process might be slow but if we’re truly after peace, peace takes foot-work but it’s all right here in whats been wrote from other’s and their feelings.
I took the day off today, our step-children are visiting us from Texas. We got stuff moved from the garage to the basement, three of us went out to eat and my step-daughter and I went for a walk in Forest park. We took pictures, talked, we broke through to each-other. We came home and my husband filled up the pool, and the kids done some late night swimming. I’m sitting here about to wrap this whole thing up but first before I go.
My dearest first love,
Thank you for walking away from me, thank you for knowing, you weren’t for me, thank you for giving me a life I deserve.
You called me, and asked me to give you another chance. You said, you would call me when you got off work. Nine, ten, eleven twelve, and one came and went. I turned out all the lights in my apartment. I walked down the quiet, dark, hallway. I laid across my four-post bed. The black night, was a spotlight, on the white, cordless phone. I dialed up the story line, and played it over and over, hoping for the beep, letting me know, I had another call. And I would click over to my happiness. I don’t know, how long, I held on to the phone that night. I do know, how long, I have hung on to you.
I ran into you, a week ago today, since you left me hanging that night. Clearly, seeing you took me back like it was last night and here is MY story.
I was fresh out of high-school, a late bloomer to the core. It was the second time I kissed a boy, and the first time my body moved in ways I wasn’t quite familiar with. You wanted to take it a bit further, but I wasn’t ready. We were up all night long.We repeated the same scene the next night. In the morning I went home. You came by my house to tell me you were going back to the town. Witch was thirty-miles away. No, it was not far. But for a girl who only had her license for a few weeks, and her first car. I had never left town on my own. And, you had no car.
I lived with my parents, and worked at Subway. You called, around ten every night. I can’t for the life of me remember what we talked about. However, it was brief. My best friend took me up to see you one Friday. When we got there you came running out. You had black, shiny, straight hair. Your bangs brushed your eyelashes, your white pasty skin was a beautiful backdrop for your sky blue eyes and you kept them open when you wrapped your arms around me, pressing your forehead against mine and whispering how you missed me.
We crammed into my friends Taurus and drove around the big city for a while. I cannot remember where we went, but I was on your lap the whole way. We played R. Kelley the whole time, you sang certain lyrics in my ear. The contact-high I was getting inside that car, made me feel like our lives together were the only ones on earth. I felt nothing, saw nothing, wanted to do nothing, except you.We got back to where you were staying, and my friend told me we had to leave. We went into the laundry-room and said our goodbyes. I can still see your smile, the way you stared right at me with your eyes, the way you ran your hand up in down my cheek and told me how nice it was to see me, you couldn’t wait to see me again.
I got home that night, and we talked briefly on the phone. I worked the rest of the week and you called every-night. We disgust me coming up on my own for the week-end. I was scared shitless, it was gutsy move, and my parents knew nothing about my planned get-a-way. You gave me directions. They must have been easy, because I made the drive. Until I got to your town and missed my turn. You seen me miss my turn and hopped in the car with your grandma. I looked up in my rearview, and you were running after me, waving, and chasing me down, like I was about to go off a cliff. I stopped my car, in the middle of the road and you told me to “scoot over I will drive”. We barely came up for air the whole time I was there. However, the conversation, you did bring up, was your time limit at your cousin’s house. You both had been staying with your cousins dad. He had given you BOTH a time-limit to get a job. If you could not find a job. You had to find somewhere else to live. We did go over a few places you could put your application in. I named a few fast-food places I seen on the way up to your house, you told me you had filled them out for those places I mentioned. When I got ready to leave my car wouldn’t start. We had to call my dad. When I told him where I was. He said “find a way to get your ass home”. We looked at each-other and both decided I would stay one more night. The next day you got the car running and I went home.
The next night at work I never got your call. I did not think nothing of it, until the next night you didn’t call. After that, my chest felt like it was cut open, placed on the outside of my body, with someone tightly squeezing. The next few weeks went by, was like watching a movie in slow-motion. The reason, I did not call you at the time, is because it was long-distance. I was able, on my next day off to go over to a family members house of yours. They lived in the same town. We tried to call and only got a machine. She ended up getting a hold of me after a few days. She let me know you were staying with your sister. When I was able to get to a pay-phone you wasn’t there either.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wpkS2DU_qMs
“Like sands through an hour-glass, these are the days of our lives”
To Be Continued
Writing on my blog has not been easy lately. I’m not going to lie. I look around at some of your post, and think my God, where can I get a blog like them… It’s not the size, I envy. It’s your writing style, your format, your flow, pictures, fonts, and the time that looks like you put into your blog. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t sit at the table with my elbow on it, leaning against my hand, for hours. It just makes me more aware of what and how I write. My cohort told me the other night.
“When it comes down to it, what matters is that people understand what you’re trying to say”
A few things have been keeping my family down in the dumps, my husband and I mainly. I won’t go into it too much, because you heard it all before. I would rather make us both laugh, how bout it?
A few weeks ago, Emmet was under the weather, and just not acting normal. My supervisor asked me to take her into the Emergency Room. They were getting her checked in, asking her questions about who, what, when, where, and why.
“Where is it, that you live?”
Emmet: The Jerry Kline Home For The Blind
“What Did you say”
Emmet: She then, slowly, broke-down all the words, and repeated herself
“Ok”
Emmet: busted out singing the nursery rhyme “Three Blind mice”
The same night, my husband and I were getting ready to go to bed. He had stepped out of our room for just a few minutes. I had a pill to take in my hand and of course dropped it. I was in-between the bed and the wall, on all fours, running my hand across the floor, trying to find that tiny thing.My husband walked backed in the room while I was on the hunt. He yells my name like he lost me in a crowd at a carnival. He scared the crap out of me. I pop up and say “What the hell, is going on”
Him: I did not see you, I thought the rapture had taken place and the lord took you instead of me…
My son and I got out-of-town, a few weeks ago. We went to a graduation. It was down by my home-town. On our way back home, we stopped in to see an old friend. Gabe asked them if we could use their bathroom. I went with him, because I had to go as well. He tripped over a toy and put his hand through a hole, which you could tell had been there already. He looks up at me, motions me to come in closer, when I get face to face with him, he looks around and back again at me.
Mom: I think their house is ripping apart!
I know you’re aware we follow Jesus, since my son was born I have let him know he can talk to him anytime. It does not matter where you’re, what you’re doing, it’s as simple as talking to me. The other day he found a spider in our house. He was squatted down, following it around. He motioned me to come look at it and I did. I grabbed a shoe and smashed it!
Gabe: JESUS, LOOK OUT!
Felix Silla, lived in room #106. He was short, hairy, bald, with light brown hair on the sides of his head, and on the back of his head too. His right leg wouldn’t bend when he walked, and his left leg dragged. He would always wear shorts that grazed his knees and a tee-shirt that hugged his firm body. The tee-shirts he wore never came down past his waist line. He would smile every-time you say something to him, even the simplest hello. When someone would make a joke or say something funny, he would put his right hand over his open mouth, the palm of his hand facing out and throw his head back.
It’s been a long time, Felix. I still feel joy, when you come to my mind.
On Saturday mornings, I used to put out mail. In the residents mail boxes. Once it was passed out. I made an announcement over the intercom. Felix was always the first one down and others soon followed. He would grab his talking-books he ordered or if he had an envelope he would shuffle to the desk where I sat, and ask me who it was from. And then quietly go back to his room. I don’t know why Felix stood out to me at mail time. It might have been the way he struggled a bit to get down to the mail box so fast to see if there was something waiting for him.
When we went to supper all the residents and him would joke around. They would call him Alpo: One time, he went shopping, and grabbed a can on accident.(This happens a lot because my residents are blind.) There was no shame in Felix game he announced it to everyone one night during supper, and that was always the going joke.
When he would come to the medicine desk at eight-o-clock. He would carry a red, white, and black transistor-radio. He would sit it up on my counter, turn it down, and say”You getting tired yet Shelley” I would tell him. Yes I was, until you showed up! he would turn red, put the back of his hand over his open mouth and throw his head back laughing. He took his medicine and headed straight back to his room.
When I noticed Felix being a bit more quiet and not AS prompt. I would make a pit stop by his room, after all my meds were passed. He would be laying there toward the wall, curled up, with that red, white, and black transistor-radio, tucked inside the circle of his arm listening to music. I’d ask him if he was okay or if there was anything I could do? He’d tell me his neck hurt. I asked him if I could rub it for him. And he said “yes Shelley”
I feel pensive whenever Felix comes to my mind. He comes often. He was one of the first resident who showed me the meaning of humble, not the definition. The way he lived his life. Simple, sweet, funny, and quiet.
The night he passed he was holding on to that red, white, and black transistor-radio
I deleted all my ‘friends” I had on my fake fb account
I deleted the fake fb account
look at me flourish
This morning hasn’t started off good. I had made an appointment, a month ago, for today. I thought it was for ten-o-clock but it was for nine-o-clock, which is weird, Gabe starts school around then. This was the second time, they have re-scheduled me. The receptionist called me at nine, asking if I was there? I said no, I thought it was at ten? She shuffled through her papers while continuing to say hmm, “no, my Calendar says nine” (swallowing crow) I said: it’s my fault and I’m nowhere near the office, I’m sorry. I talked to my mom a bit about the situation. She told me to start writing things down, and how there is an app, that will remind you, of the appointments you have.
It’s all well in good, but writing things down is a downfall of mine. I hung up the phone and checked the weather. I noticed one of the anchor ladies, on the news site. Stacey Skrysak. My mother had posted this post of her’s, on my fb page, a while back ago. It has been my favorite piece of writing ever since.
My eye’s filled up this morning with tears as I read her post this morning. I thought about having to wait another month to get Ativan for my panic-attacks. They come on like a deer jumping out in front of your car. I do have some daily medication, it don’t always cut it. It helps but not fully.
They started over a year ago.
One night, around three, I woke up to what felt like a water hose of adrenaline filling up my body. I shot STRAIGHT UP into a sitting position and gasped for air, slid out of bed, and into the bathroom. Where I noticed my melons shaking back and forth with every beat of my heart. I thought about taking a Xanax that belonged to my husband. I stared at them thinking about the knowledge I knew. With being a nurses aid. My heart was going to need medical assistance and the hospital would not like to hear that I took medication that was not mine.
I woke up my husband and told him he would have to stay with our son. I called the ambulance to take me to the emergency room. He hated doing such, but all in all this is why we have each other. I told him to take him to school in the morning and he could meet me afterwards.
When the ambulance picked me up. I walked out and climbed into the back and laid on the stretcher. The guy started to put in a Iv. He told me if my heart rate did not slow down he was going to be ordered to give me a medicine, that basically stops the heart for a second. He did not want to have to use it on the ambulance but would if he had too. He asked me some questions about my life. I was able to get comfortable with him. I asked if he had seen this happen with a lot patients? “all the time” we got to the hospital and they had a room waiting for me and started asking me questions.
Had I taken illegal drugs?
Did I take anything at all?
I told them a Sudafed, actually two within that day.
If you took anything illegal, you can tell us, we won’t turn you in?
No, I did not take any drugs!
The doctor came in and ordered medicine that would drip slow. He thought it may help bring down my heart-rate and if he could bring it down. He could see more about what was going on.
I laid there in that one moment, thinking this could be the beginning to the end of my life.
Who knows, what they would tell me?
I’ve had a heart problem before.
Where there is one rat there are a hundred more you don’t see.
What about my husband, my son, my dad, my mom, how will they get through it?
I’ve been in the shallow part of water when it comes to loosing a child
After placing my feet on dry land, I changed.
In one blink of one eye
I lost a family of four. I lost a piece of my husband, my sons Will and Gabe, I lost half of myself, and any thought that life, would last into our thirties, forties, fifties, sixties, seventies, and so on. I lost being grateful, for my family, when hearing of another families misfortune. Because just as you thank God it wasn’t your son or your daughter. You’re thinking to soon. I’m thankful every second, every minute, of every hour for the life with my family.
The fear I have, isn’t the dying part. It’s the loss, the grief, one would have to feel. It’s the hollowness in a room filled with furniture, clothes, and toys. The silence when all you want to hear is crying. The passerby’s you don’t know but wish you did, so they would stop for a second, while you try to wrap your head around what had happened. It’s the guilt and the choices you made before the boom. It’s the guilt that your gone and I’m here. It’s the triggers, like missing an appointment to the psychiatrist.
The other day I was reading another writers post on loss. Her words as a survivor touched my heart. “I have to keep living and loving because they can’t. And it breaks my heart. And it mends it too”
The day you were born, I didn’t hold you right away. The doctor showed you to me and then had to stitch me up. They pushed my bed through the lobby. Where your grandpa, uncles, aunts, and friends would greet us with smiles, and tears. They said how beautiful you were, and how much you looked like me.The nurse got me settled in my room and told me it would be an hour before they let friends and family in. They wanted the anatesia to wear off and monitor my stats. The nurse asked if I wanted to see you, I shook my head yes.
When she put you in my arms. I didn’t count your fingers and toes. I ran my hand over your face, arms and legs. I was in awe of the thickness of your skin. I not only, seen your hair, I lifted you up to my face, rubbing it up and down against my cheek. I rubbed my finger up and down your perfectly in tact nose. The nurse was giving me pain meds, taking my vitals, checking my incision, and you were screaming your head off. I lied there, with you in my arms screaming. I wasn’t hearing a thing. The nurse must have had enough, because she came up to the head of my bed, put her arm around me, smiled and said, “I think he may be hungry”. We untied my gown to see if you would latch onto me but you wanted nothing to do with breastfeeding. They asked me if it was okay to give you a bottle, because your blood sugar tested low. In which I agreed.
Family and friends came in and took over. Holding you, feeding you, changing you, and enjoying a new baby like they should. I must have fell asleep during visiting hours, because when I woke up. The room was empty, except daddy he was asleep. I pushed the call bell to ask them to bring you down and they did. I tried waking your dad up but he was dead to the world. I grabbed you out of your warmer to hold and enjoy you in my arms. I thought for a minute, the lining around your lips was turning blue but chucked it up to nerves, then it happened again. I called the nurse, I yelled he’s “turning blue” they raced in, grabbed you, held you up to the light, turned you from side to side, shaking her head saying “I don’t see anything”. She handed you back and I was scared frozen. She left the room. I held you like I was balancing a spoon on my nose. I looked down at you, without moving my head, your lips turned blue again. I yelled and they came running. They held you up to the light, and said “were gonna take him down to the nursery, we can keep an eye on him”. She didn’t tell me she agreed. I asked, her what she seen? She said “we will keep an eye on him”. The old, no jumping to conclusions move. I know this move all to well, and it’s not a good place to be standing.
That night, they came in, and told me and your dad that your oxygen level was dipping down into the forties. They had to keep you in the neonatal unit, to observe you. They kept oxygen, by your bed, in case they had to use it. They said once it lowered it would rise back up instantly and because of it rising up, you didn’t have to wear the oxygen full-time. This is also called destating, it happens to premature babies, although you weighed eight pounds and six ounces, you were big, but little. They delivered you at thirty-six weeks, there is forty in gestation.
I shut down, when they gave me this news. It was another punch in the upper left side of my chest.There was no reason, for no hope, but to a grieving mother it’s all or nothing. I have sat on pins and needles ever since that day. I have beat myself up over these last years, realizing you were behind and blaming myself for holding you to close. Checking on you through the night, making sure, I seen the rise and fall, keeping you from others without being there, in case someone decided to run off with you, driving by the school playground just so I can see that your alive and well. I realized as I sat in the doctor’s office with you earlier today and pondered on all these thoughts as I watched you jumping, skipping, and rolling around on the floor.
That you are my sunshine
My only sunshine, son, you
make me happy when
skies are gray
only God knows how much
I love you and I know he can
take you any day.
I hand his life over to you, because, even here on earth, with me. He is still yours, and he needs you just as much as I do.
I sat at my twin boys grave, that day in August. I closed my eyes, visioning, Jesus, holding both of my baby boys in each of his arms, swaddled perfectly, in white. In that field of green, and the bluest of skies with peace that surpasses all understanding.
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