The meat and potatoes of Oldest Daughter Redheaded Sister
I watched the sun set tonight. She is such a beauty sliding behind the cedars.
Favorite game – hide and seek.
Her curve seems to hug “just right”around the tips, and well, I guess I’ve always thought so…
A small smile turned up around my cheeks, a flushing of pink appeared,
and then I thanked her for rising this morning.
As if to wink, she paused and then moved on, as one should, I suppose.
I apologized to Her today.
Closed my eyes and found Her at the front door.
She allowed me in willingly. She was smiling,
yet, I know now. She really had no idea.
No idea of just how bleak the situation.
Her family was torn apart. Poor, but not as poor as others. Street smart, but no clue on how to be a young lady or a woman. Smart. Oh, so smart. She knew when to turn on the charm and when to keep busy. Survival was key. She watched other mommas. She would just do what they did.
I remembered every smell, room color and contents of the house. I surprised myself. I hadn’t thought back to those days since I’d left.
Young and afraid, but who could really tell? Known as a hard worker. One who had overcome circumstances beyond her control. Just stay out of Her way.
Control. If She could control her surroundings She would survive and so would they.
I looked down into the basement. Wooden steps down to the dirt floor, the floor Dad would have gotten to eventually. For now it was a safe place to go during tornado season. The smell flooded back into my soul, as I recalled the spot I’d learned to whistle. Watched dirt flow through the slits of my fingers. The smell was oddly comforting. She smiled at me. Proud of my memory. Crowded down there but safe.
She held my hand as we made our way around the house. The place I’d left little Audrey the day I moved away. I occurred to me I had no memory of whether or not I’d said goodbye. I just drove away in the red Granada. She was just happy to have me home again.
We looked at the framed school pictures on the wall in the living room. Big bangs, smiles and oversized sweatshirts for a football team we’d probably never see play outside of a television screen, yet somehow our devotion was strong. They were staring back at me. She – they- tried so hard to fit in. I watched the four of us run in a circle once again to the tune of the Duke’s of Hazzard theme song, while dad laughed. The fastest? Oh, the competition was fierce. She giggled. We knew it was never us.
The screen door to the back porch opened as we made our way outside. I caught a glimpse of the grey paint curling and slowly peeling away from the boards used to create a floor. She looked on with regret and a bit forlorn, knowing we’d spent hours pulling it off, after mom and dad had spent so much time and money painting it on.
I told Her I was sorry for leaving her here in the house. I hadn’t taken her somewhere to heal, to dream bigger or live fully. I explained to Her things had changed. We were okay, and this time when I left, she would come along. She could finally rest. I whispered how proud I was of her bravery.
She would experience joy in new places and be allowed to strive for anything. I explained how none of this was her fault. And she wasn’t going to be clinching on to bits of normalcy any longer. I reassured Her. I combed her hair, washed her face, and finished all the laundry piling up at the back of the house. Her job was done. We were leaving. No one was staying in that grey house another day.
– 15 minutes – no editing – write it out – Set it free –
Our compassion comes from a place of empathy,
or at least it should.
Who are we if we don’t wish the very best for someone?
Trials greet us when we’re not looking, sinking us into new depths.
Gratitude overwhelms the healing pieces of us, and it is there we should bow.
Humbled.
Nature nurtures, realize this at the very least, smile and allow the comfort as it exhales its release.
The summer rain has painted fields of sunflowers
and the August breeze cools the brow.
67 degrees in the Sandhills, and nobody can explain how.
Wheat with a sense of adventure has been brushed in for effect,
and life gets interesting
just beyond the hills,
as I hear, “You haven’t been over there yet.”
Push past the state line, skys bluer than azure await,
there’s small horse towns ’bout every 8 miles,
and remember, “When you leave, shut the gate.”
Fuel isn’t getting any cheaper, and time waits for no one,
so dismiss all the reasons why one shouldn’t,
smell the damp dirt, allow it to slide through your fingers, let the wind send it.
Press the pedal on the right, bite your lip, and
appreciate the sound of your giggle,
the prairie weaves over and under –
everything beyond here matters,
and you’re not getting any younger.
Early morning viewing, only the good die young, or so Billy says.
Caught once again between regret and dread.
I thought of you this morning, driving into OZ,
“Turn around, Aud.”
I didn’t, nearly cost me my life, and here I am
pleading with the essence of what’s left of you.
Lead me, hollar louder,
my constant plea is evident, ignored.
I sensed your protection, view from afar, then kids told me, but – yet
you are who you are.
the source:
reason for one’s distraction
out here beyond the familiar, I escape.
ponder what it must be like
to go and wander,
past where bridges lie, and
to a place my feet welcome;
a path unrecognizable to my soul.
my mind allowed freedom
as I see myself pushing back against a warm summer breeze.
nightfall is yet to be seen, yet the week is already before me.
stillness becomes evident, while the sky slowly burns across Midwestern hues.
I sense maybe you’re listening, so
I offer this plea –
challenge me, but don’t leave.
occult in gilded lace,
her aureole exposed
petals purely contoured
if she were able, a pinwheel she would become
for you
imagine her delicate,
perfected in verdant wearing peaches and cream,
with a promising aura
On Independence Day, while sitting in the pool, my twenty-one year old son was studying my face. After a while, it seemed I realized I was being watched, so he swam in closer, invading my personal space, giving me a big hug. (Offensive linemen give big hugs on and off the field.)
Now.
Between you and I, I know he sees me aging, and it’s making him feel a little sad. So I held my breath, as I looked up at him, in anticipation of the words I saw forming inside his mind through those crystal blue eyes of his.
I mean, I can acknowledge the fact I am getting older, but “outta the mouths of babes”, one never does know how those words will hit the ego. *giggles*
A few hours before, he had picked up one of my curls and made that *awwww* sound, which I can easily translate for him to mean, “Your hair is graying.”
After the sweet wet swimmy hug and the “I love you,” I hear this as he smirks and gazes down at me – (his girlfriend is suffering, I assure you *smirk* )
He said, “Momma, you have freckles on your lips…”
…as if he’d never really studied me before today. He’s an intellectual and, with complete faith, loves me unconditionally.
To which I replied,
“Hi, I’m your mother. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
I suppose I’ll add this exchange to the swimming moment we have from when he was 5 years old.
What is it with he and I and summer swim time?!
“Momma, your arms with all those freckles (motions up and down my arms) looks like a beautifully baked cheese pizza.”
My reply to our hysterically laughing group of friends,
“I guess it’s time for lunch.” ♡
Happy Belated 4th of July hope you enjoyed yours as much as I enjoyed mine!
despite what looms around her,
the past
the expectations
the privilege
the power
the beauty
the silence
she chooses to try.
she begins at the bottom,
alone – yet, her
confidence is exposed as petals stretch.
amethyst her signature,
and starlet her pose,
the climbing inevitable, but
she’s worth it,
and you know.
Yours, Audrey
the smile in her eyes
shines like sun
her grin, feathers like petals in the breeze
and those dimples well,
for him, one day,
they’ll be his everything.
The energy is there, just beyond the curve,
Light Fancier: the artist
and Lady Bluet, eager to serve.
Azure, she breathes against the sky
as twilight begins,
a multitude of versions
showered within.
Function introduces beauty –
nature sets the scene,
progress settles nicely,
and she’s encouraged to dream.
heard and its appreciated
regardless of distance
creation begins with ends
sight isnt always known
again, seems defeating, but beauty gains power, seen and listened to
graciously so
nature heals as do words
patience allowed
creates soft places
where new truly grows
when the call comes
time stands down
knees buckle
wind escapes the very breath I needed to speak.
a cry from within –
within me – it shocks,
shocks the very core of my being, a result
everyone warned me of feeling deep inside,
but then regret:
the regret of putting off
everything I should have said when it still mattered.
the searching begins
the desire for proof –
proof we existed together in this world
making the memories we shared valid,
meaningful and somehow important.
but then the awareness arrives,
becoming fully aware
eyes wide open,
there is nothing here to prove our connection;
my love.
lacking tangible evidence of a bond created out of a deep need to feel a part of something I lacked,
is the torture I, until today, didn’t realize I would be living with now forever.
When you suddenly realize you may, in fact, be related to leprechauns….
verdant the color
destiny ravishingly sought
astonish them all
Enjoy your weekend!
~Aud
. . . You know those days when you wake up to a mountain of snow in your yard, because – wind – , so you make coffee and you spend an hour and a half talking yourself up to a game of shoveling for an hour or more? Not minding the physical work really, but the wind is gonna cut hard this time causing the debate inside my head a heaviness. (Nebraska blizzards are the worst, yet I adore them.)
You put on a few layers of clothes, bemoaning how you look in a hat 😳, wishing you’d purchased taller boots for winter, and decide you are capable of doing anything so you march outside ready to take on the snow with your trusty shovel. The object that has seen you through six consecutive winters in Nebraska since the last one broke and never failed.
The two of you dance about the sidewalk and around the car, being mindful of the fact you accidently mule kicked your jeans off last night in the dark and broke your pinky toe on your dresser so it already feels crammed into thick socks and tight boots as it is… so go easy, Aud.
Never mind your nose is dripping, ears are frozen because your hat is too short and your hazel eyes are watering due to refusing the scarf, as it’s too bulky and makes ya sweat anyway, and life feels hard but you’re making it work so ya laugh to say, “Cheers on you life,” and finish strong. Taking time to laugh at yourself every time you toss the snow against the wind and it attacks right back. This girl will never learn.
Grateful to be done with round one as you stomp back inside, after shoveling a path in the grass, as well, so ya can get to the car parked out back, with wet gloves, snow on top of the worthless hat you knitted as a first knitted object ever and you wanna fit into it.
However you were born with a big head and curly hair so hats don’t look right, then ya kick off the shorty expensive snow boots you were just sure would be so cute with jeans when you’re out and about at Christmas time and the sense of regret settles in.
See, you’re kinda cussing them because they kept your feet warm – good – yet you can’t feel your wet frozen ankles – bad. Side eye yourself realizing nobody cares because you’re the only one here now, so ya stop talking.
Wander a bit around the house as your glasses de-fog and ponder where you put your furry slippers when you first started this project nearly four hours ago and suddenly realize . . .
You didn’t pour one cup of coffee from the coffee pot and now it’s cold. AND so are you.
I can’t decide how I feel about myself now.
Love my life.
. . . wandering away now towards the microwave cold cup in hand
February chores
nobody needs sweaters
old seventy-six
looking through branches
catching this sherbet sunset through different views,
mighty is a fortress angled amongst dipping hallows as they weave groove.
the branches brittle, yet hold quite an aubergine scene
there’s peach, pinks, and yellows, look, there’s even soft lavender too.
they seem to be dancing, oh my, on soft feminine slopes, now listen: giggling dancing hues want to be noticed.
a hush of snow takes on some gray, but
doesn’t Winter,
as she holds steady against warm days,
generally fade this way?
focused amongst darkness,
blind to a last chance and determined to count regrets.
cherish, even the ending, with the promise to never forget,
light sparks as it is extinguished
and her heart flutters, yes.
a vision to enjoy,
breathe
rustic and pristine.
with an ounce of curiosity
I dream,
what stories are held within-
is this beauty, as she stands,
left for the taking,
or is someone keeping watch?
left to her own devises,
her strength must continue, remain hopeful in winter.
alone amongst the blanket of snow, she screams forlorn,
however you see her and she remains yours.
might she be worth the risk?
Oldest Daughter & Red Headed Sister 