English: Rattray Head Sand dunes overlooking the beach and lighthouse at Rattray Head on the coast between the fishing ports of Peterhead and Fraserburgh. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Grainy, powder, rock
red fish, green ocean, sun-bright
Painting of a dream.
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Hidden underneath
grenades explode, lit with lies
Dual souls, mean man.
Head in the sand (Photo credit: Ben Werdmuller)
The Waitress (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
It’s one of those dreary, black, rainy nights and I have gone food shopping for what seems to be the eleventh time in a week to buy food for my family. I’m so tired that my legs ache and they sure are swollen. I’ve been on my feet all day working at the coffee shop waiting on customers. I’m so tired I could sleep in this old car, for sure. I load the groceries in the car, rubbing my back the whole time; I stop in the card store to buy a birthday card for my sister. We share one old computer at home, not a fancy one like the orange or the apple, whatever it’s called, but we bought it second-hand and the kids use it for homework. This “e-mail” may be convenient but when it comes to good friends or relatives, I’m old-fashioned, I still buy cards and stamps even though the stamps will soon be the same price as the cards sooner or later.
I go to the register and as I am about to pay for my card when I decide, last second, to buy a lottery ticket, quick pick just for some fun. It’s a guaranteed few hours of playing our favorite game: “what would we do if we won the lottery?” Tonight it gives me some happy time while I soak my bones in a bubble bath. We don’t have much but we do have a tub and some bubbles, heck, even Oprah took bubble baths and she could have gone to a fancy spa. While I am soaking I’m going to imagine me wining all those millions of dollars and then I’m gonna spend that money in my mind. First thing I’d buy would be a new truck for my boys, brand, spanking new. You got to make your own happiness sometimes and since I am blessed with my family and our health, this is sure good enough for me.
My own momma and poppa used to call this “wishful thinking” they never believed in it because they said that” it’s no sense in dreaming if you are never gonna win anything anyways.” They wouldn’t let me dream, I just had to work on the farm but now as a grown-up, I can do what I want. I will NOT deny my children of dreaming, no sir. People have to dream, dream big even, that’s what I tell our children. Work hard, study hard and your dreams will come true. I don’t tell them what their grandparents always said to me, I learned what not to do from my parents so I set it right for my own children. Dream big because I believe in you. I tell them that because no one ever told that to me.
Ocean Wave Beach. The feel of the sand under my feet, walking slowly in the sun, looking for seashells. The thrill of the ocean (and the fear of the sharks) jumping over the waves, being a part of Nature. Sure, it is a little risky, it’s a little cold but there is no better feeling for me than diving under a huge wave and jumping over the rest; knowing when to jump and when to swim. It’s always held power over me, I love swimming and walking on the beach. I love watching the waves as they crash. My biggest dream is to live near the ocean. Someday….
Since I am comfortable with myself, silence does not make me uncomfortable at all. Years ago, when I was young, I am sure that I felt awkward at times with silence. Silence and strangers.
Now, it is a strength to be comfortable, alone or with another person in silence. It’s an act of faith, one that takes years to build; I am extremely comfortable with my husband or best friend beside me, together, alone.
Trust yourself and the other person both in silence and in speech. Know that the person beside you, the one that you have loved for many years is your soul-mate, your very best friend. It shouldn’t and doesn’t come quickly, it takes some time to understand each other, and even then, there is always the tiny unknown.
Start with a glimmer and a smile, many years later, you know each others thoughts, words, smiles and nuances. I can hear my own thoughts in silence, I can use words as photographs in my mind. More importantly, I listen to how I feel.
Image via Wikipedia
There are a lot of things going on but except for the doctor’s appointment I had today, with a breast surgeon ( I’m fine) I am waiting for things to happen. My dog looks unwell, tired and scared, she is not eating. Is it the upcoming thunderstorms she feels approaching or…..is she too old? She won’t come up the stairs, that is very unusual. I changed my own doctor’s appointment next week because I noticed my dog’s exam with her veterinarian is scheduled for the same day. I will go with her; I have always gone with her, every year for nine years. She needs me and I need her. She is nine and sometimes I look at her and want to quietly weep. My pup. I’ve had you since I rescued you at six weeks old.
I am waiting for test reports to come back, not for myself; the phone is quiet, not shrieking, loud and jarring as it usually is. It is never this quiet here. I feel a pause in the universe and inside myself. There are no sounds in the house except my fingers clicking on this old keyboard. I am concentrating on the stillness and it feels surreal.
Will it feel like this when both my kids go off to college? My son, is going to college in September; my daughter, my baby, next year. Prom is the day after tomorrow and I am still in disbelief that time has passed so quickly. Even though I have seen the handsome tuxedo and the grin on my son’s face I can’t believe it is here. I am afraid I will cry when I see the sparkling young couples posing together for their prom pictures. I will bring sunglasses and not let it show although my son only has to take one passing glance at me and he will know. I will NOT let him see.
I could pick up the phone but I don’t want to ruin this eery quiet with unnecessary noise. The silence and solitude, I fear, is meant for a reason. I am breathing deeply. I sip from a small, green Pellegrino bottle, it seems to be the only color in the entire room. I never liked to drink water before but I enjoy this. Maybe it’s because we drank bubbly mineral water, every day, when we were in Spain. Our Spain vacation with my husband, for ten days, now seems like a dream I had; it is getting cloudy in detail, in texture, in color, in my memory.
I would like to keep everyone safe and healthy but I have no control. I am gathering up courage in order for me to help others. I am trying to come from a centered place. I am controlling anxiety by breathing but it is beginning to be hard to swallow. My dog, my son, test results, weather, change is coming quickly, but it isn’t here yet.
It is getting cloudy now, maybe the thunderstorms will come and relieve the awful, suffocating heat. The thunderstorms are supposed to make the weather cooler; I know that but my dog doesn’t. I will keep her near me, my arm around her fur and wait for the storms to come crashing down like glass shattered by a young boy’s errant baseball. Everything can change in a moment, I want to be ready.
Image via Wikipedia
HO, HO, HO?
Dear Santa,
I’ve been asking for this special gift, this present, for over a year now. Since it’s almost Christmas (and Hanukkah) please, could you read my letter again? I was silly to think that you would grant my wish before the holidays but ’tis the season now…fa la la la la, la la la la. I am not asking for a present for just me, I am asking for one present for the whole family. I am asking for a job for my husband that pays real money. Our family would really appreciate it. Please Santa, its been a long time. I’ve been a very good girl and will, once again, leave out cookies and milk for you and carrots for Rudolph and the rest of the reindeer. Thanks a lot! Hugs and kisses and love, from ME
Image by Bob.Fornal via Flickr
I speak with a raspy whisper a voice unknown to me when I was younger. Starting in high school I became the adolescent lioness that practiced roaring with my brown braided hair that ran down my back in lanky curls. I learned to lick my ferocious lips with pleasure getting into funny escapades with my best friend Paula. I spoke with great assurance to teachers and professors whose titles meant nothing to me. My body language stated that I was their equal because I too was involved and able to keep up a conversation; I read the book review from the New York Times. Of the many poems I penned one was selected as the winner to recite in person to the poet, Rod McKuen. I mattered back then and I turned heads as I wore my black leotard that clung to my body like a kiss, my worn denim jeans that hugged my body with a warm embrace and my brown clogs that clicked and clacked happily down the hallways. I had a voice back then, a sweet, cajoling, flirtatious, strong voice that I no longer have. I had a lot of dreams when I was younger but in the past four years, saddled like a working mule, with Fibromyalgia, Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis and Chronic Pain I seem to have lost them.
I used to dream that I would publish a book and it would be a best-seller. I saw myself on Oprah, chatting it up, I could practically hear her whisper into my ear: “you go, girl!” Oprah and I would be friends, and I too would get all the presents that the audience gets, including: the trip to Austrailia, a brand new car wrapped in a giant red bow and one present each of ALL her favorite things, retroactively, of course.
I used to sing out loud, off-key and high-pitched, but that didn’t stop me from believing that Simon and Garfunkel or John Denver would welcome me up on stage to sing with them. I could see the white stretch limo parked outside my apartment building to pick me up. All our neighbors and friends would be hanging out of their apartment windows to see me. After that, I was so sure that I would be the first mega millions lottery winner that I worried about security and who would handle my new financial windfall. Could I deal with all this money? Four years ago with my diagnosis of Fibromyalgia and Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis, things changed. With the focus on my pain I lost all of my dreams and tried to learn how to cope. The dreams died like fragile moths hitting a glass door, violently and forever.
I always dreamed I would get married and when I was 30 I did. I married my best friend and we’ve been married for 22 years. A year after our wedding we started trying to have children with no luck. My dream back then was to get pregnant and have a child, more than any of the previous dreams wrapped up together. Finally, after two and a half years of painful injections and grueling testing at an infertility hospital I got pregnant and that was one dream that did come true. I loved being pregnant and I glowed with delight, all the more because I had experienced such pain and anguish with the infertility process. When my son was one I got pregnant with my daughter and having a boy and a girl made all my dreams come true.
While I daydream about traveling to Holland to see the cheery tulips bloom or a trip to Spain’s countryside I know those dreams come with a huge price tag now: pain, special accommodations, and sacrifice. I am not the young traveler I used to be, I worry about traveling and all my limitations. I’ve accepted the aches and pains and sore muscles and swollen joints of Fibromyalgia and Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis. I live with the chronic pain and the cloudy haze that encompasses my brain. I can’t entertain the thought of a possible cure because I couldn’t stand to live in my body, hoping. I would not be able to cope with life as I know it today; my skin crawls stealthily out of my body just imagining it. I need to protect myself and my friends from that faraway fantasy. If I could protect those I love from heartbreaking devastation and pain I would. My new reality is giving up on a lot of dreams that I used to have; like my size 10 pants, that no longer fit me. My new dream is trying to appreciate the good things I do have now: my family, my dog, my dear friends. If I could I would spin a protective web, thick like golden honey that would protect my family from pain and heartbreak. Living in the here and now, appreciating every moment that we do have is my everlasting, unwavering and constant dream. I had to redefine my dreams as I had to redefine my life, my life as a chronic pain patient.
My husband and I had been trying to have a baby for over two years. I had taken fertility drugs, had daily shots administered by my husband on my then-firm butt. Early every morning, before the sun reached the sky, I drove to the fertility clinic like a robot to get my blood drawn. My veins looked like pieces of bruised, rotten fruit, like a once delicate peach or apricot. I was depressed and cried easily and often. One night I had a dream that G-d told me everything would be okay and that I would get pregnant and I would have a son. I clung to that message and told no one about it until now. That single dream and memory kept me going. Weeks later I found out I was pregnant. Nine months later, I gave birth to my newborn son.
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