Nostalgia

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I took a drive a couple of days ago. I was in the mood for nostalgia. Snow days had come up in about every conversation I’d had in town, and I got to thinking. I thought about growing up on Hickory and wanted a picture of days gone by. Not sure why Hickory Street popped into my thoughts, but maybe it was the 16 inches of snow we received last week and the “squall”  we’d experienced on Thursday. (Ya, think?!?)

Every child in the area had gone down this hill, which seemed bigger than it appears, if they were willing to hoof it from across the way.  The “way” being the last and newest neighborhood on the edge of town. The hill spanned for about half a city block. The use of city to help describe a distance leaves me amused.  Hickory was a gravel road. This hill, for all intents and purposes, was in the country.

A well traveled road it would seem to us at the time but short of the mailman, families up the road and man who lived further to the east it was a quiet route – not taken by many or at all on winter days.  This allowed for tunnels, igloos and ramps to be built on and for the hill. Often times we’d trade in wet gloves for socks out of the clean laundry basket mom left sitting on the deep freeze. She’d hollar at us to use the old bread bags. The ones collected all year to wrap around mittens. In an instant handmade winter gear became water proof, but boy did it make packing snow difficult and an even slower process.

The hill taught friends, my siblings and I a lot about team work. Our creativity and manpower steamed forward by the hour. Nothing kept us from returning to a group project after lunch if our mothers would allow it.

My mind’s eye sees the hill and the narrow walkway at the top by the barbed wire fence. We’d  created a walking path at the top in an effort to travel from one house to the other during non wintery months, and everyone knew it was there. It was handy.  Back and forth we’d go all day long changing the location of play. It was a lot like a highway and we had created it all on our own. This path kept us safely off the road. 

On snow days, we’d plop our sleds on to the path. It was there under the snow somewhere, and we would pile on with the nose headed south. Everyone gripping the friend’s legs behind them as a way to hold on we’dcount down 3 – 2 – 1 – .
And then down, we’d go.

Meditation

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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 –

The Beholder

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Driving the farthest eastern reaches of the Sandhills as this scene beckoned. Was it the water, sunset or hills calling names? The topography, a sensuous mastermind, plays within thoughts while memories flood the present.

How dare it.

Just as beauty sets in, and atop the already gorgeous scene, to share this – would have been the only cherished wish left to whisper. A hand held. Hard kiss, even tug of the hair and a reminding of the natural, even recommended design for an alliance.

Useless comes to mind, but doesn’t it always? Untrustworthy. Less than. Nothing deemed attractive found near not even near, by not just one, but from many.

Wicked is fate as she tosses over another just out of reach, if only the physical qualities found irresistible and encouraged were obtainable by another’s remnants. Would life continue to offer beauty with hopes someone might see?

Mom

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I can remember when becoming a mom consumed my every thought.
How to convience, plan and encourge a journey leading life in that direction.

Those first few months, I recognized within me a confidence, it was solid, made for it, indeed. Doubt didn’t stand a chance.
I never, not once, saw myself going it alone.

Being mom always included a dad.

Here I am, a mom. Content with how we’ve done. The children are a constant beside me. Never questioning the road. Still not comfortable parenting solo.

I always thought families deserved both.

Even if mom looks like this…

I think you’ll agree there’s an astonishing similarity.

Circa 2012

For Now

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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. 

♡

Total Eclipse

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I wake to a busy morning in quiet Nebraska. The corn fields continue the process of self-starting and sustaining, as it finishes out the perfect sweet corn phase of its season.

The light cloud coverage is beginning to burn away, as the sun raises higher in the azure sky. Today, here in my part of Nebraska, I will experience the eclipse in totality. Around our lunch/dinner hour we will gather as a community, who has welcomed many new faces and a team of scientists, to watch what only happens, if we’re lucky, once in a lifetime.

I have mixed feelings about the importance of viewing an eclipse, if I’m being honest, I wouldn’t travel and spend hundreds of dollars to view this moment in history. However, I’m grateful there are people in our country who do find true importance in recording, gathering and studying for the future of our world. I’m humbled, quite honestly, in how God has created us equal, yet blessed us with different gifts and its rather exciting to witness this fact, in and of itself, today.

Yes, for me, watching someone DO what they enjoy, and find their passion within, is fulfilling and a fine day’s work as I watch their minds turn and ideas flow – but that’s what social scientists do best.

We all have gifts and talents. My hope for today is for everyone to stop and consider what makes us positively different and the same and celebrate those bits. For we are much more productive united than we could ever be divided. I may have plucked that thought from someone…

Happy Eclipse Day, all Y’all,

Audrey Dawn

My Anniversary 

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My blogging Anniversary snuck up on me. As soon as I saw this photo in my notifications box this morning, I realized it was April and I’d forgotten.

Four years?

You’ve held me accountable during the hardest four years of my life. Made me feel like a friend, a daughter, a sister and a lover.

Thank you for accepting me as I am, encouraging me to return to the poetry I love to write, and expecting me to share it because you know how desperately I need to…

You’ve given me my voice. Continue reading →

I’m Not An Italian Poetess

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Typical Monday, it seems. Tried making lunch, while writing my feelings. Epic fail ensues, as thoughts continue to pursue my mind. Forcing me so easily to forget the time.

Poet’s are always lyrical, definitely this one, it seems. I can’t get past writing this as poetry. Stick a knife in my side. Please, won’t you abide? My friends, don’t write and bake, unless burned pizza is all you’re willing to take. My wishes sincere, once again, don’t do both while planning to eat, you won’t win.

Thankful I have a few other attributes that keep you coming around. Like maybe my smile or even my frowns. Tears shower plenty upon these walls, oh God, stop her before she continues to pitfall.

Laughter begins, oh look, a grin! Yep, tis possible, she’s drunk again. No, my friends, it isn’t so. I’m just handling a Monday, so far as this one goes…

Loyal followers, stay with me, please. This is only going to hurt for a minute. Slap happy grins is how I’ll spin it, you’ll see.

***
She’ll never be an Italian chef
and poetess, too
just look at what
wandering thoughts
can do…

Writer’s multitasking summer,
kitchen’s a wreck,
lovely ideas interrupt
baking, for endless possibilities,
if only I would’ve stopped to check…

This homemade pizza now crisp
and slightly burned, tis true
thankful, in the end
this treat,
is simply a vessel for brew…

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I should go back into the Houston sun. It’s just delightfully hot and humid here. Yeah, I know, I’m almost done. The end is near…

Yours,
Audrey

Her Path Of Scars (Haibun)

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Across her vulnerable path there are old scars. Disfigurements, some bigger than others, yet similar in color. A few are the remains of the same tragedy, now multiplying and adding to those festering lies she whispers to herself daily. Tracks you’ll find as you begin to travel over her essence. The lies she encourages herself to believe guide her day. These defining untruths continue to slide through her thoughts in an effort to ruin her spirit, until you find a way inside her mind.

Life begins to grow, as you navigate within her arduous attempts at disbelief. A primal power you possess as her guide in this fight. Verdant leaves found full of color and sprinkled throughout her path react to your light, then grow and allow for clarity and healing to finally begin. The solution she never saw as her possibility now renews her strength. This an event you can take pride in, as it is you who has fed her daily. She, now your light, is devoted. Finally, once again, she believes in truth, love and authenticity.

The scars are still there, as you run yourself across her core, however they don’t define her anymore. Each tragic event has been honored. She trusts your hands, loves you, and with all that she is, needs you to be yourself completely. Importantly, she is a body of scars, but they have healed with the help of your interest and devotion. Your love, that lives inside of her now, is a blessing.

Beauty of nature
Submission Empowerment
Rooted in belief