Prince Oscar

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Eight years ago I packed up two children, our pug and a plant named Maxine. (a plant I received from friends in 1992 when my grandmother passed away) We moved from Texas  to Nebraska in the middle of a divorce. We had nothing. Nothing. Later, finding out even the car I was left to drive away with by my ex-husband no longer had insurance – unbeknownst to me until after we arrived. So when I say nothing, I mean it.
I thought I’d hit rock bottom.

We lived with my brother and his family for 5 months as we waited for a rental property to become available. Until the divorce was final – we had to rent. Sadly, this home we finally found didn’t allow dogs.
My heart broke. The kids’ hearts broke.

My mother, who lived three hours from us, took Prince Oscar the pug into her home. He brightened her world right up as ours darkened even further.

Grateful Oscar had my mom and my mom him. I continue to feel as though I let him down by giving him away and not fighting harder to find a place for him too. 

Today, Prince Oscar went to heaven.

I don’t know that I deserve to grieve.
Yet, I do.

I love you, Oscar. My Pug Prince.

2024

Always, Love

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Sometimes people don’t realize what they’ve been offered, is room to grow,

space to breathe, heal, try something new, make decisions, and even complete final drafts.

Care: It isn’t always a verb. ‘Tis also a noun. The provision towards what is necessary; to apply consideration to a situation to avoid further damage or risk.

The beauty in love – space to grow – is in the offer to step aside in hopes of growth succeeding. Knowing full well everything may change, and we no longer matter.

Trust is felt, and when it isn’t given in return, we sense the void – feel the lack of – quite like someone’s arms length we clung to for years knowing we shouldn’t.

Love is the color of amber, to me, quite like every color squeezing in together, without erasing one for another in hopes of a happy ending.

Sense of Direction

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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.

Ardently Golden

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Winter waves hello
as Autumn nods goodbye,
life is complicated
causing us to ardently ponder who am I.

Earth is round and life is ever after,
but questions often birth discrepancy,
so a refresh is in order,
dormant becomes necessity.

Memories are mounting
and wistful becomes normal,
up ahead are life moments to cherish,
yet this golden causes pause over what nature has nourished.

Lips bring a smile to life – awaken
as the sun begins to set,
twilight, a comforting picture,
and this prairie points West.

Weeding Out

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Imperative for growth to flourish appropriately,

It’s a sinking feeling when the time arrives,

And one we rarely want to admit to, because normalcy is comfortable.

Sometimes change masks itself as unknown, but we know.

One gut-wrenching pull at a time convinces us of its necessity, and the digging continues.

Beauty is stifled by its surroundings, however, she clings to what slowly kills her.

The world is full of what should be if we lean in: find grounding and settle.

Surely the weeding ends,

And the tools go back to the shelf.

Persuasion

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glows does the moon
beyond the branches, which held verdant prisms of summertime,
rich with thoughts of what could be come daylight.

a star just to the north points towards a path I’m unsure of
but regrettably stare into,
the cold air touches the tears I shed for the prayers I’ve said,
nothing makes sense as the fairytale ends.

night, oh night, you shout at me so,
what shall come of my young soul; trapped in a body at the peak of her age
clouds bustle by, such hurry
I ponder what awaits
just past the horizon of a foolish wish, held back by this garden gate.

Musings

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drove this afternoon,
so I wouldn’t have to listen to my thoughts
the music helped, but I keep thinking on how everything has changed.

no, not just foliage within the trees or in the depths of the ditches, but in all cases.
there’s an old homestead I wanted to take pictures of, my destination was set for the day. Go back and visit what makes sense, Aud.

as I stopped to turn in, a wedding was just letting out,
I smiled at their choice of location. Country, prairie and simple seems easy.
how fun to imagine his stare and all the dresses, the devotion and all the extras.

the children are safe after a weekend with their father, pleasantries were extended,
college life in full swing and real life looks good on them even from afar, babies no longer, maybe now momma
should breathe.

as night settles in – outside – I gave thanks for the light of the moon, peeking through the leaves still green,
as bright as a headlamp, it would seem, and brought with it an element of peace.

my prayers for you the same today as yesterday, and I’ll visit them again with each tomorrow.
yes, so much is changing and maybe it’s time,
yet I’m fully aware, even with faith in our Lord, I am frightened and full of sorrow.

Vulnerability

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we’re supposed to be thankful,
even prepared for adventure,
makes us tougher.
I didnt ask, and strength is relative.

Bitter

Pristine in color
brings laughter along to play
causes wistfulness.
I’d beg, but daylight is fleeting.

Revelation

Snowflakes’ touch is delicate
lips ruby red; passionate
my tongue quick to taste.
The water slows, and life quiets.

Peace

With Change

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when gathering
for granddad’s funeral
no one’s vehicle tires turned into the yard similarly.
even gravel sounded different as folks drove in and chose a place to park.
the earth where his brown Ford pickup had been parked for nearly 70 years
– until Uncle drove it away –
had grass growing again,
but had for nearly fifteen years, I suppose.
I wonder if I’m the only one
who noticed. I never asked.

Pause

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You reside on protective winds,
Waves she won’t honestly understand; and been denied.
Bringing peace to bruised souls deemed worth saving.
Left early to her own devices,
She questions helpful hands
Prefers avoiding disappointment, yet failed.
Forced to believe she’s meant to be alone,
Soul searching required, and left to wonder
Why life is the way it is.

Direction

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overwhelmed with responsibility
I listen to the rain fall for hours early this morning.
not a bird rejoices
as dawn breaks, although hidden
but the train travels through
twice, horn insistent.
strong coffee brews,
snowflakes appear
beauty automatic,
like women with blue eyes
and goldenrod hues of hair.
a tantrum wouldn’t fix
what’s inside my head,
use the wisdom and
traits God gave me
stop worrying about
what’s changing.
snowflakes fall
white covers the ground
my lilies now
curled back in fear,
winter refuses to leave
and I wish you were here.