A Day In The Life

. . . 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

Discovery

I miss the days of lost in cerulean and clouds,
even though searching for you came with a cost,
my mind ardently invented you as I lie on the ground.

moments screamed past me then, and there’s no getting them back,
yet I feel fulfilled when memories rush in,
blessed, some would say to forget what I lacked.

a path was forged, one I so desperately needed,
the voice inside me tasted like screaming –
to most it wouldn’t make sense but free, my friend, isn’t always freedom.

Passion

The author wrote as if she had met the one I crave, finding him perfectly secure, genuine and honest before her.

She noticed the same details as I, and it shatters me to realize someone sees in him what I do and she may have the chance at a forever.

Which means I’m expendable, just one in hundreds of options.

Ha! Not that I ever stood a chance, I knew the minute we met he’d never settle for less than perfection.

He wouldn’t need to, because he was capable on his own and I added nothing he craved.

Where I Went Wrong

I flew in in the dark of night,
saw the lights of a city to where I’d never been.


In to a state I’d not once seen,
and a part of the country still foreign to me.


Welcomed with open arms, yet I could not feel them.


Searching aimlessly by my own accord,
instead of submitting to the joys of freedom;


ones offered by just stepping off the plane.

And when I left, I called and told him about the cookies.

From A Distance

cool wind drapes my shoulders,
as thoughts ride tides too high
for a woman like me.
unable to reach, nor smell the
scent of a life,
only read about
through my hazel eyes
obsessing.

no voice brave enough inside
to share what I need,
see
even dream,
proves leaning on another to name
the clouds above me is selfish.

and the sounds of morning continue,
breezes swirl, leaves fluttering
against each other,
while ignited rain clouds grumble
along side today’s dawning.
grateful for the noise,
which drowns, for another day,
my inability
to offer what builds
inside of me, hoping no one
notices the girl hiding.

Torn

I
love
love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
its been all I can think about,
it’s all I knew to say,
it’s all my fault,
I’m to blame.
i could have just said,
i want to sleep with you.
can i climb in.
goodnight.
thank you, for seeing me.
i wish i could feel your touch.
tell me you’re pleased.
If I had known this is what you were prepared to hear…
I would have.
Because now, I’m just scared.

*once broken, surrendering love is never easy, but then sometimes thats all there is, an existence arrives and so we do.

For Now

Ann finished with the dishes, even the dirty ones, left in the little sink, found just past the front door of the studio apartment she’d rented from Shelby.

Leaning up against the light green counter, while looking out towards the stove, she exhaled the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Turns out moving is physically harder than she initially believed. 

Why had she?

Did it matter if the stove was clean or not? She didn’t feel like eating anyway.

Ann’s legs weakened. It was a slow slide down the narrow cubbard and onto the kitchen floor. 

None of this made sense anyway. It was all too soon.

The grey tile was cold. She laid against it for too long and woke up startled. Ann surprised herself by falling asleep, but the intensity of her dream caused her to jump. She straightened up into a sitting position, while her finger slowly traced the fresh indentions on her cheek.

 What time was it…

Just then a lone roach crawled past her and towards the sink.

Great.

It’s just me and him.

Me, him and his tiny little army in the back of the cubbard.

She quickly got off the floor and added bug spray, killer or annihilator to her list of things to pick up at the store, possibly, or maybe one day.

Ann fumbled into her bedroom, after cleaning the bathroom and sitting space, nearly tripping on the step required to enter. 

The door hit the wall behind it with a bang and Ann’s body shook. There wasn’t much room for her or anything else, but it would do. 

She was thankful Shelby had sent over new and laundered bedding before her arrival. Admittedly, there had been little time for anything else. 

She could handle living down the hall from a few roaches for now, but sleeping in dirty and used bedding would’ve only caused her further anxiety. Ann figured she’d cling to the bed’s cleanliness.

She focused on the purple and gold comforter covering the mattress . Was it designed for a tiny apartment bed like this or did the designer, who had carefully chosen the fabric and vision, imagine a grander setting?

She often wondered over people’s intentions. 

She watched her fingers comb down the side of the bed, as if not really present in the room. With her foot Ann slid the closet door shut.

Eying her suitcases on the dresser she decided her clothes could wait. Like almost everything else in her life.

Briefly considering, obviously reconciling an internal struggle not to sweep the dust away, and lacking the strength to look the reality of the room in the eye, she made the choice to forgo her bedroom responsibilities for now. 

Ann lifted the bottom window and scanned the view in front of her. 

A black dog ran sideways across the quiet street with a yelp.

“Get outta here,” an old woman grumbled, while wiping her hands on her apron.

Ann slowly shook her head and held back a giggle, as she watched the dog run back towards town. The woman mumbling something as she turned and headed back into her garden was a pleasant surprise.

Ann smiled. Might have been the first time in months. 

She’d go down and introduce herself to the feisty one next door soon. She pulled the curtains away from the window revealing twilight over the overgrown grassy hill in the distance. 

She leaned her forehead in slowly and placed the palm of her hands against the cool glass, as her body submitted to the weakness she couldn’t overcome.

This sure was a sleepy town. Not one car passed by in the five minutes her face was stuck to the window pane.

At least the outdoor surroundings brought comfort.

Suddenly, she heard a long howl. It sounded like an animal in pain, and was coming from the south. The cry brought back another familiar sound. 

Ann found herself walking towards the bed. Lost in recent events, obviously too painful to revisit, yet needing to forget, her body melting into the covers.

***

This is an old thought of mine from a few years back. Found it while searching for another story I’d written. 

Something about this one though…

Why writing of melancholy comforts me I’ll never know. I began this blog because my friends said I was funny and needed to share my humor. 

But my soul speaks differently.

What I’ve found is worth so much more. I’ve given myself. I’ve found me. And I’ll be.

Thank you for listening.

It is my hope light continues to shine it’s favor. 

Precision

The way you approach
In full confidence
Steady control
Centers me

An ability to sense
Where I’m at emotionally
By simply patrolling
Around me

Knowing you’re near
A presence about you
I cling to automatically
With nothing to fear

As if exploration of my mind
Is what you desire
What sets me apart
And yours to admire

The mastery used
Absolutely nothing to prove
Leaves me yearning
Spinning, as I watch

Fantastic ability surrounds
Every thought, every sound
My body reacts
Easily

Your offer, often powerful
Soothes my soul
Leaves me adored
Until next time

Day Two – Red Headed Woman

Ms. Heartafire wants me to share my musical interests as part of the five day song challenge. Thanks for having me, Sister Ginger. I think you’ll like this one as much as I do..

The rules:

POST A SONG A DAY FOR FIVE CONSECUTIVE DAYS.
POST WHAT THE LYRICS MEAN TO YOU.  (OPTIONAL)
POST THE NAME OF THE SONG AND VIDEO.
NOMINATE 1 OR 2 BLOGGERS EACH DAY OF THE CHALLENGE (I’ve made this optional…hoping that’s okay. If you want to participate, tell them I made you. 😉 )

Day Two: Bruce Springsteen’s Red Headed Woman

What the lyrics mean to me: I like knowing there’s a man who enjoys a redhead. Enough to sing a song about them, too. Not enough songs or poems about redheads if you ask me. Smiles. 

This song makes me laugh every time I hear it. The man knows what he’s talking about…!

Enjoy..