Happy Valentine’s Day

The day is here and the end of my love poems. I enjoyed finding a way to express love in many forms. I’m leaving you with my thoughts today. A romantic will always live in my heart, but these feelings can wear a girl out. Is only one day needed to express yourself? No, I don’t believe so. Valentine’s Day really doesn’t do it for me, but this…this does:


Fresh flowers in a vase, no.
I’d rather a chance to smell your cologne.
Stand close to me.

Red candles to illuminate the dark, no.
I prefer your honesty and trust to shepherd.
Lead me.

Sweet chocolate on my lips, no.
I’d rather your thoughts and dreams pouring to soothe me.
Show me.

An array of jewels for my body, no.
I prefer deep notes which sing to me of your soul and rob me of my fears.
Stay with me.

Expensive toys to keep up with, no.
I’ll take a secluded journey and your adventurous spirit to guide me.
Take me.

Who you are and want us to be is all I’ll ever need.


Get back here!
Right now!

Where have you gone?
Did I, your sister, say you could go?

Sadness sets in, but I refuse to let it take me.
It wasn’t my intension to let you get away so easily.

Back to life you and I must journey.
This vacation is killing me.

Puffy eyes, have I.
I’m acting pitifully.

Get over it, Aud!
This, my dear, reality.


Happy New Year!! Thanks for an awesome ending to 2013. I can’t even begin to describe my feelings towards 2014.

This next year is going to rock. I feel it deep down. I hope you feel it for yourselves, too.

I’ll be here just doing what I do, but the beat will be a lot louder from here on out. Can you handle it? Hold on, it’s about to get crazy up in here!!

Happy New Year!


You did it.

Without knowing, you did it.

What I feel, without knowing, you did it.


You made it.

My heart beating fast, you made it.

What I hear, my heart beating fast, you made it.


You created it.

My mind racing, you created it.

What I think, my mind racing, you created it.


You sense it.

Without admittance, you sense it.

What I am, without admittance, you sense it, too.

Love – To Know Me So Well

Charished and effortless reactions had been lost with distance.

Now welcomed back in with monumental excess, as we familiarize once again.

So simple is life when they’re along for the ride, I’ve found my peaceful heart.

Looking into familiar eyes long over due, man just look at you.

I can’t get enough of sibling love and only a few more days have we.

Come along back to Texas with me, please?

We’ll change lives together, forever a team, you and me.

One Snowy Night

Did you know that driving from the south end of Texas to the northern part of Texas can be a full days travel? It can and that was Friday’s adventure, we’re moving on.

After waking up in northern Texas, to icy conditions in all of Oklahoma on Saturday, we decided to hang a left and travel across the state. We did this thinking we could possibly drive around the weather. Yea, great idea, save it. I wanted to keep moving so we could still make it to Nebraska by Saturday night.

No such luck!!

It’s amazing how truly large Texas is – it goes on for miles. Miles people, I mean miles. Are you with me here?

The plan was to travel east to Amarillo, TX and then head north. That was the plan. Well, Amarillo was getting snow by Saturday afternoon and we were headed right for it. We opted to turn blindly (Well kinda, I had my GPS.) north at that point since we’d only experienced rain. Actually a light rain really, and more of a mist if anything.

A decision to make a be-line for the Oklahoma / Kansas boarder just north of us sounded like a better plan. It seemed that we had gone west far enough to miss, or out run, the ice.

We had. Well until we hit 5pm on the day of Winter Solstice. (I have lots of pictures to share.)

By then we had driven into snowy conditions with no plow truck in sight, apparently. To me, it appeared that the Oklahoma snow removal budget didn’t allow for much wiggle room, so a shockingly quick snow storm would just have to wait for the sun. The State had called it a day, I guess, or twas the weekend and someone was having a Christmas party.

The roads were a mess. Nothing like driving on a snow covered ice cube to get you reacclamated to driving up North. Nebraska is north when you’re coming from south Texas. Just so we’re clear all you naysayers.

By the time we had driven over Black Kettle National Grassland’s long bridge–nerves were shot. Time to find a hotel, yeah, good luck with that, Aud.

After another 40 minutes or so we came upon Home-Sweet-Home…or the Holiday Hotel…is this some sort of sick twisted joke?


Yes, I know, but the heat worked and it meant we were off the roads. Bring it on!

How did they know to have my favorite bird on the wall? Go Cardinals!! #STL

Once inside the room and everything was unpacked from the truck we realized that food was of a necessity, or it was going to be a long night. Not far from the hotel was a restaurant, which felt compelled to confuse me:


After we’d eaten, and I showed off my totally rad farm girl driving abilities so we could make it up the hills and back to our hotel, we settled down for some rest.


One thing is for sure, I didn’t sleep as sound as little Kendra seemed to be here. Her mommy made sure she had the best of everything, as she roughed it somewhere in Oklahoma last night.


Is it possible to be jealous of a little red headed doll?

(Save travels this Christmas! We made it to our destination yeaterday afternoon after a slow slow slow start!!!!!)


A fast car driving me over rolling hills, closing in on out of control
Roller coasters holding and dipping me quick
Deep sounds of a guitar soothing my soul
Dark windows containing shadows to haunt me
Scary rooms with eerie noises to chase me
My anticipating a peaceful world, dispite of it all

None of it seems to fit in with what you just gifted me. Born; a new adrenaline.

Can’t That Hashbrown Casserole Take A Hint?

I Don’t Care Whether Hashbrown Casserole Goes With Leftover Chicken Noodle Soup or Lasgna

Written by, Audrey Dawn

Preparing meals for my family has always been a priority in my life. I started learning how to cook for my father and three siblings during my sixth grade year of elementary school. As each day passed, I got a little bit better at cooking what everyone loved. I finally feel like I’ve gotten a bunch of my Midwestern culinary staples perfected after years of practice. There are often times I crave eating them, so off to make them I’ll happily go minding my own business. Why can it never be that easy?

There has been a comic on the side of our refrigerator for a few years now:

Continue reading

Keeping Pace


This is a photo I took while wandering near the boardwalk. These boats are all making an effort to get in to the marina, as their days have come to an end. It was a beautiful day out at sea, finally a bit warmer, even for south Texas.

These three boats in particular had me thinking. The two prodigious ones have such a presence out in the water, truly no fear. The other a cocky little sailboat who’s grin seems to be illuminating against the water. I am pulling for the sleek sailboat on the left. Its choosing to be near the others is symbolic for me. I can relate with its need to keep up. I identify with how straight and strong his mast is standing. The sailboat has a strange confidence about it and there is nothing more captivating than pure confidence.

Like the sailboat, I also need to continue to be straight, strong and confident in order to reach my goals.

I’m pulling for the sailboat. Aren’t you? I hope it kicks the colossal boats’ butts. In the last few minutes of its journey, I want the cocky sailboat to show its speed and push right past them all. Not in mean way, but more of a he couldn’t help it sort of way, the boat is what the boat is, respectfully.

Today, I’m beginning to see myself as this sailboat, the one with more assurance than it knows what to do with.

I feel it in my soul.

Yesterday, I felt like the small yellow kayak on the right, the one just getting past the stronger unknown in the nick of time. Wafting over the water and then using my oars to paddle to more merciful channels.

I’m over paddling away.

Winter’s Gift – Part 3

“Well, honestly? You’re an Angel. You’re sitting here with me right now. I didn’t even know Angels could do that, Necia. Your presence shocks me, your light silences me and your…your, well I don’t know. I mean, since you’ve arrived I’m not the same,” he shared as openly as he could.

Joe noticed the dirt on his dry, cold and chapped hands. He reached into his right pocket and pulled out his goat skin gloves. He put them on, instantly comforted in knowing he had hidden his soiled hands.

“Joe, I didn’t come to you because I had to, I came to you in spite of my calling. Would you want to be defined by what you do for a living? Aren’t you more than that? I know you are, I’ve watched you. It isn’t just what I am, but it’s also who I am, I agree. I’m also, Necia. I’ve come to you as Necia, I didn’t come to you with my badge first. You understand, right?”

“I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“Try, I need to hear that you’ll try.”

“I can’t even look at you, Necia. How do I speak from such an unfamiliar place?” he asked as he focused on their tree.

“There’s time, I have time for your words, Joe.”

“Speaking isn’t what I know well, you see? I can’t say anyone has pushed back at me in such a way. I work, I maintain these grounds. I’m just a caretaker of sorts, this place is all I know. People confuse me, I haven’t taken the time to invest in this world. You must understand that speaking to you, in this way, is asking a lot of me.”

“Joe, you need to try and trust me. Please know that you are safe with me. Remember the first day…?” she offered to him as she followed his gaze to the tree.

He noticed how just looking at the tree softened her face. He wondered how it was even possible, she was made of such untroubled symmetry. The idea of her beauty going one step further seemed divinely generated.

Going back to their first encounter seemed much safer for Joe. He recalled what she had already told him, but there were still parts he couldn’t get past. In her narration of the first moment, she explained to him that she had seen him working. He had been cleaning stones like a father would tend to his child. Those were her words, not his. He was simply doing his job.

It took him back a few steps to learn that she had first seen him in early August, here at the cemetery and after work. He’d discovered a stone, something the ground had nearly over taken. A bush had been hiding the grave marker, but they’d lost the bush in the freeze last winter. It was August before he’d gotten around to digging it up.

The maps to the cemetery were long gone. Joe had memorized the newer graves and their markers long ago, it came easily to him. He’d figured that most of the really old stones were in obvious places, since there was no way of knowing how to locate each one. It had been some time since anyone had needed his services on that side. The space was left unattended to some degree. He did what he could, but he was only one man.

Grave Stone

He was clearing the rubbish away when he saw the corner piece of the stone peeking through the ground. He started pulling at the overgrowth of grass, which surrounded the quarry, and it revealed a stone.

The piece had engravings on it and his interest was sparked. Joe ran to his truck and grabbed his bag. There was a time when all Joe wanted out of life was to be an archeologist, the idea of uncovering lost treasures, bones and identification from long ago thrilled him. It was probably simple of him to get so excited over something so meager in comparison, pathetic really. After work, he often times found himself with his paper and lead. There was nothing better than being lost in a story he’d created, while being cautious of not abrading the limestone slab.

“You saw me at the Davis stone that evening,” he said watching her settle herself on to the tree trunk. “I wasn’t aware I was being watched and especially not by you.” Joe took his left glove off and slapped the side of his leg. He rubbed his hand down his worn out blue jeans. He allowed for a bit of friction between his hand and the jeans, unaware that this nervous tic of his was noticed by Necia.

“It was the first time I’d allowed you to notice me watching you.” she admitted.

“I don’t know what made me look up and over towards the brush. I’d heard a rustle in the leaves. I thought it was a deer looking for food. I was curious, I guess.”

“You were so busy. I enjoyed watching your face, as your thoughts had you transported somewhere else. I wanted to know where you were, and if by chance it was somewhere we could go together.” Necia admitted easily.

He was envious of her calm assurance when speaking to him. He couldn’t make his eyes meet hers. “Necia, you let me look at you. I couldn’t turn away. I worried that the slightest move would make you disappear.” Joe was well aware that she knew he’d be caught off guard, he didn’t need to remind her.

“I waited a few minutes, so you could relax in hopes that you’d remember me when I returned another day.”

“I may never forget that moment, Necia. When I saw you it was like seeing a ghost.” Joe mentioned while watching a feather being caressed by the wind, as it floated to the ground. He fought the urge to grab it, the sudden start and stop of bending down he hoped went unnoticed, as he tried to focus on her.

“I knew the first time would be the hardest to comprehend, so I came to you venerable, Joe.” Necia said as if understanding where his mind was then. She bent down and lightly picked up the feather and placed it into his left hand.

“I appreciate that. Resplendently venerable, I’d say,” he whispered remembering the sight of her wings. He was taken off guard by his hands, they were shaking. Joe looked up quickly just sure that she’d vanished.

(Winter’s Gift Parts One and Two)

Grave Stone (Photo credit: patrick.ward04)

Mental Canvas

Doesn’t a long excursion to the country sound extravagant during the Christmas season? Who has time for that, right? I want one anyway and I aim to get it. I do some of my best thinking on an empty road. Today, I prefer an open road, one without much traffic and very few trees to block my view. I want to see for miles.

Do you ever feel like the city walls are closing in on you? I’m thankful that in the surrounding areas of Houston we have nature reserves, lakes, bayous, and plenty of lifestyle nature parks for a quick retreat. Unfortunately, parks aren’t what I’m looking for this morning.

I recall having a conversation with my Grandma K while driving near Superior, Wisconsin years ago. I was up in the northern part Wisconsin visiting her and the neighboring areas. We had decided to rise early, drive to Lake Superior, then board a ferry all in an effort to experience Madeline Island for the day. I made a mental note to acknowledge how important this time with my grandmother would be and I’d chosen not to let it slip away once my visit was over. Time with our beloved grandparents will slip away from us, we all know it will.

Our wilderness drive was producing a lot of laughter. We’d successfully updated everyone in the car on how life was going and even pulled off at a road side store to purchase cheese curds. Stopping for cheese is a welcomed event. An experience you don’t put off for another time just because you have a scheduled day ahead of you. We were relishing our time together. We’ve never had enough time together.

Stop. Back to the cheese. I can’t focus until we talk for a second about Wisconsin cheese.

Northern Wisconsin is an adventure in of itself, but they also have great cheese. When driving in this part of our country, buy cheese when the cheese curd opportunity beckons you from the side of the road. You pull over and you purchase more than you think you need. You must eat cheese when you see cheese, and you’ll do it happily. Trust me. There is no other way, not if you’re going to pay homage to the cheese respectfully.

Okay, back to Grandma and my need for a lucid drive.

Anyway, we were on the road and I think every story she or I shared had been interpreted. This delay was by me saying something similar or even exactly to, “Just look at the trees, Grandma. They’re everywhere and so beautiful, you must never get tired of looking at them.”

To that she replied with an absolute reaction. “I can’t stand them.”

Yea, that’s Grandma K, she doesn’t mince her words.

She grew up in Wisconsin, raised her family in Kansas, and moved back north when I was a child. She went on to tell me that she didn’t appreciate the tall oaks, cedars and pine trees blocking her view every day, usually all day long. She explained they inhibited her ability to see everything around her. She simplified it by comparing northern Wisconsin to Kansas. She noted that moving to the grasslands of Kansas had been startling, because she could see across the great plains for miles.

What she helped me realize is that none of the topography she encountered in Kansas blocked her mental canvas. Apparently, she preferred a clear view, and now I’m beginning to understand why. The open road of life provides a beautiful picture of this miraculous world we’ve been given. It’s satisfying to get out and experience it.

This story remains in my mind fifteen years later. At the time I remember thinking that she had a point. I can’t tell what’s beyond  the next curve, either. And yeah, it does feel a bit like the trees are closing in on me. Yet, I still found myself lost in the idea of what could happen inside those trees. I still look at groups of trees and create stories. I enjoy being surrounded by them.

What’s really funny about the whole day is that this conversation, out of all the important conversations a granddaughter should remember having with her aging grandmother, is the one that resonates with me. Our discussion still comes to mind when I go for a drive. She nailed it. She and I are similar in this need to fight our way out of the junk, which can smother our view. My mental canvas also needs an open road, if only for a short drive.

Today, our conversation weighs on my mind. Grandma’s right, being able to see the sky from left to right and witness the horizon in front of me, is what I routinely crave, as well. My drive needs to be where I can see this abundance of life that God created. I feel this gravitational pull to remember that there is a bounty of life we miss out on when we don’t get out for a drive . I owe it myself to go looking for an open road. I owe it to my mental canvas.

Great Grandma Elsie

At the end of the day a brown mending basket and sewing kit sit next to the bed,

Buttons to sew and seams to stitch all in a neat pile, please fix this, they said.

When did Grandma Elsie’s patching duties submit themselves to Audrey?

Choosing to blink, now dreaming of ingredients to couple with yeast.

 Yes, its possible, a modern woman working the flour, is it only me?

Will recipes materialize, should be better than the garbage we eat.

Slow progression to Great Grandma Elsie’s bakery, it seems.

I look in the mirror at this red curly, crazy hair.

I can’t help but see her familiar stare.

Who the heck is this person I see,

 When did I



Wednesday’s Window: Show and Tell

It pains me to consider what I’d do if my bookshelf went up in flames today.

I find this little show and tell situation a bit daunting. Who could choose just five books? Well, I know I couldn’t, let’s start there. I decided that in order to make this a bit easier on myself, I’d simply choose one from each shelf on my bookcase.

No, I didn’t go and rearrange my favorites in order to save them. I think that limiting myself to a shelf at a time helped to increase the atmosphere. You know it fed into that philosophical way of thinking that we all share:


I’m quoting Spanky from the Little Rascals, incase you need a reference. He’s President of the He-Man Wuman Hater’s Club, if you want his credentials before agreeing to my strict guidelines. 😉

1. A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness – I choose this novel based on the way the author writes her men. My heart starts beating faster just thinking of Harkness’ Matthew. This one is an extreme guilty pleasure because it’s about vampires and witches. Two photos come to mind when I think of this book:



2. The Bible. No other explanation needed if you’ve been reading my blog for any time at all. I relate to Moses. Kindred souls, are we. Well, not the killing, the breaking of the Commandment tablets or 40 day walk, but more like,

Exodus 4:10 Moses said to the Lord, “O Lord, I have never been eloquent, neither in the past nor since you have spoken to your servant. I am slow of speech and tongue.” 11 The Lord said to him, ” Who gave man his mouth? Who makes him deaf or mute? Who gives him sight or makes him blind? Is it not I, the Lord? 12 Now go; I will help you speak and will teach you what to say.”

Yeah, more like that measure of Moses, the burning bush version.


3. The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway

Have you ever needed to go so far deep into yourself to find courage that continuing on down the black hole of your soul frightens you? And then were you shocked that you found peace there? You, too? We should talk.


4. Fall of Giants by Ken Follett

I’m choosing this one, because I started it thinking my friend, Wendie, was crazy for recommending a book this size. I didn’t have time to read this beast of a book.  The book was humongous, extremely historical and most of all…bloody fantastic. I never thought this genre would sweep me off my feet, but it has a way of going about it. Sneaky, it is!


5. As You Like It by William Shakespeare

*** “All the world’s a stage

And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,

And one man in his time plays many parts …” ***

We must remember to play each of our given roles, am I right? Oh, I think we need coffee for this one. Nothing like a good story about reconciliation and forgiveness, the countryside, forests of France and a chance to read about every aspect of love in one place. What am I doing? I can’t even begin to find the words for how much I enjoy this one.


That’s it, I’m done!! Play along or don’t play. It really doesn’t bother me either way. That rhymes… 😉

( I hope there is never a fire, because this little “get to know me game” stressed me out. Hope my books forgive me.)

Tuesday Teachings: Writers Are Affected

*Definition of  – *

sus·cep·ti·ble [suh-sep-tuh-buh l] 

3. capable of being affected emotionally; impressionable.

** So that means **

non·sus·cep·ti·ble [non-suh-sep-tuh-buh l]

3. incapable of being affected emotionally; nonimpressionable.

*** Either way, we’re affected ***

Affected to stay the same or affected to change, I’d say.


Writers Are Affected

In spite of everything, remember, when life’s dead-end is staring you in the face:

What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly.
-Richard Bach

Your moment is coming, in spite of everything…

Nonetheless, if nothing else, please know that you are more than allowed to:

Risk more than others think is safe.
Care more than others think is wise.
Dream more than others think is practical.
Expect more than others think is possible.
-Claude Bissell

You are allowed to be you, if nothing else.

At any rate, frankly, when the easy choice is to walk away:

When you feel like giving up,
remember why you held on for so long in the first place.

A Community is here to help you, if you chose to stay, when the easy choice is to walk away.

You teach best (Photo credit: Thalita Carvalho)

Monday’s eMotional Oldest Daugher: December Rituals

When we put our family Christmas tree up we assume our specific tree trimming roles graciously. It amazes me every year. Boy, we are a trained bunch. Whose fault is that? Yeah, probably mine. My husband gets everything out of storage and assembles the tree. Bless him, he even fixes the lights when our tree’s lights get unruly.

Pre-Lit Christmas trees can have some of the most unruly lights. I’d throw the tree through the window, but not my husband. Cool as a cucumber, he’s over there deciding on his plan of attack. He’s the cool blonde type. I’m the temper flaring red head type. It’s obvious that this is the role for him. He’d prefer to handle the lights, as replacing windows isn’t his idea of fun.

With everyone sick over Thanksgiving Break, we had plenty of time on our hands for a slow tree decorating event. Why is everyone always sick during the holidays? Can’t a girl get a break?? Anyway, here’s how our Christmas tree turned out:


My role is to unpack all the ornaments, because I’m pretty obsessive about how they are to be unpacked. Original packaging is a must, so steady hands on deck only. Let me be honest, I take my job very serious. I look forward to the oohs’ and the awwwws’, as I reminisce over years past. I enjoy looking at how the kids have grown. My face reacts pleasingly as I reveal that the ornaments from my childhood survived another year:


Have I mentioned how much I enjoy card playing? I’m looking forward to a lot of that in a few weeks while visiting Nebraska and Kansas for the Christmas holiday. Our group favorite is Pitch, but if the three sisters have their way we talk Big Brother, or at least one other person, into playing Pinochle. It’s just the best card game ever. The Card Playing Bear ornament was given to me close to 18 years ago. It reminds me of my cut throat card playing family.

I even added part of a snowflake to the picture. Watching snow fall during our visit home this year would be great. Not sure who I turn that request in to… We don’t see snow in this part of Texas. By then, I know my family will be tired of seeing snowflakes, but we’ll expect them to humor our enthusiasm over the white fluffy stuff.

The two children in this family have the job of stringing beads and hanging ornaments. I’m so glad they’re getting better at placement. See how nicely they’re spacing them out this year:


It sure beats the signature move of clumping ornaments on one single branch. All toddlers go this route at some point, although its super cute and picture worthy at the time. Now I’ll only have to go back and fix this tree’s treasures a little bit, or this will be the year I leave the trimmings as is. The verdict is still out.

What’s your opinion? Do you rearrange the placement of the ornaments or do you leave them alone? Every year I say I’m going to leave them, then my husband sees me sneaking in after everyone has gone to bed. I can’t help it. 

Mostly, I look forward to the reason for the season. I look forward to the Christmas tradition of Advent and allowing it to remind me of why I believe what I believe. I love being reminded of how Jesus’ birth brings us hope.

This week I’m going to remember that we have hope:


As I type this, while looking at our tree, I may even have a glimmer of hope that I’ll leave the ornaments alone…hmmm. 🙂

~Oldest Daughter

(I don’t know how to work this camera. I don’t know why the bear photo is so much darker, it is closer, I’ll admit. Anyway, I’ll get better at photo sharing.)

It’s Going To Be One Of Those Weeks, Huh?

This week while everyone is packing for trips back home, warming their kitchens in anticipation of Thanksgiving and planning their Black Friday shopping, I’ll be doing plenty of this, writing. A whole week off allows for me to catch up here, to read and relax with family and friends, who I’ve missed while trying to blog, teach, raise a family and eat.

All of these events I look forward to, but they won’t fully satisfy me this week.

I’ll be missing Big Brother, Middle Sister and Baby Sister too much to feel completely content. Unfortunately, this means everyone in our home will suffer greatly. We’ll be listening to a lot of very sad music and possibly be seen in our pajamas too much by the neighbors, but again, it’s an entire week off from school, so we’re entitled.

I laugh, but it’s true.

I look forward to Thursday, and all the cooking we’ll do as a family. We’ve never stayed home for Thanksgiving. I’ve never made a turkey, so this ought to be an experience, one I may never live down, but we charge forward anyway. I mean, Carpe diem, right? I’ll make everything that Grandma Maxine used to have on her table, all but the oyster stuffing. I can’t say we’ll have anyone making requests to have this at our table.

We’ll give thanks, enjoy each other’s company and relax while we call home to see about the family.

I may even throw in a few terribly clichéd family movies such as Smokey and the Bandit, The Man From Snowy River, Weird Science, Overboard or Six Pack. I have clearly carved these movies out in my mind as family movies, because Big Brother always had control of the television or VCR.

Imagine three sisters being forced to endure these movies. Yeah, seemed a bit brutal back in the day, but now I stop to watch them. It seems they provide a nice little day-dream about being with my siblings during the holidays.

When everyone goes to bed, I may then watch movies that remind me of my sisters. First up, I’ll watch Finding Neverland, which is about my favorite playwright J.M. Barrie. This movie will remind me of how much fun we had playing as children. Not near as much fun as the children on the screen, but we enjoyed each other’s company. Imagine as a child having an influence like J.M. Barrie. Yes, go on, imagine it.

What a delight it would have been, huh?

I’ll move on to girly movies like When a Man Loves a Woman, Dirty Dancing, Sixteen Candles, and Mermaids. I’ll save Mermaids for last, because I’ll need to make sure everyone is fully asleep before I cry my eyes out. This one, is truly only meant to be watched with Middle and Baby on either side of me on the couch.

Since we’re not together this year, I’ll go it alone.

After I watch a few brother driven family favorites and cry through a few lonely sister movies, I’ll find myself needing to eat something. By something, I mean everything I can find, which is what one does when feeding emotions. Of course, I’ll eat food that reminds me of home. Mostly it’ll be comfort food and then a side of beef, because you don’t come from Middle America and eat fish when missing family, you just don’t.

I’ll make sure I’ve stocked the pantry with chocolate, everything I need to bake my famous chocolate chip cookies, salads with pudding as a main ingredient, pasta with lots of cheese, chips and dip, and a small appearance by Little Debbie’s snacks.

So yeah, it should be fun and you should definitely stick around this week and see how it plays out. It may turn into an on-screen love affair with J.M. Barrie. It could be that my two children will created havoc about the house, like the children in the movie Overboard.

Oh, and I wouldn’t count out the possibility of a dramatic finish: my death by Little Debbie, often a coin flip when I’m not with my siblings for the holidays. I giggle at the thought, yet look forward to my week.

Fiction Friday: Winter’s Gift: She Rewarded His Anticipation

Joe walked up behind her, bending down fluently to pick up yet another feather that had fallen from her wings. It was like finding a penny on the street as a boy. His left hand was filling up rapidly. He noticed how pristine the feathers were and how hard it was to know where they came from as he took in the beauty of her back.

He let out a sigh of relief, yet he couldn’t make eye contact. Slowly the air left his lungs. There was a time when he could slow his own heart rate down, her standing so close to him right now didn’t allow for him to accomplish it.

One of her finest qualities was her ability to be seemingly perfect and pure, yet she was here with him. She had agreed to meet him.

nunhead cemetary

McCollin’s cemetery was a lonely place, he couldn’t remember the last time anyone needed to drive this far down the quiet road. In spite of that, this place was still his to care for daily. Tending to the souls who found rest here, his only job.

It was his assumption that getting her here would be the hard part. Angels didn’t take meetings with regular guys who had dirt under their nails. Men who could use a shave. Or so he’d thought. She was beautiful, rightly perfect and by far the best listener he’d found out here.

“Will you walk towards that tree with me?”  he asked noticing a feather float side to side all the way down to his boot. Swiftly he was down and back up without notice. Was it normal for her to lose those soft whispers? Did she know he’d kept them all?

“Yes, you know I will.” she admitted almost soundlessly.

Shocked, still he recovered with little effort, did she know she had all the control? He wanted to show her the place he’d found today, he stuffed her feathers inside his coat pocket. He made a wish for them be there later when he was alone. His proof that she existed.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Joe admitted refusing to walk behind her. He found comfort walking just ahead of her scanning the area for anything that could harm her.

“I’ve always come to you. Have I never?” She replied as she pushed back.

It was a sight to see her walk across the grounds, she proceeded slowly. Seconds had past, yet they were already looking at the perfect tree in front of them. It startled Joe at how quickly they walked together. The pine tree had been covered by this morning’s snow. In spite of the snow, he was sure she’d still understand what drew him to this place.

“What do you think?” Joe asked after choosing to glance just over the top of her head, purposely avoiding her eyes. He just allowed his left hand to lay silently in his jacket pocket, surrounding itself with pieces of her. “Do you think we could use this one?” he whispered quietly towards her, waiting to hear if the tree provided the same feelings in her, as it had for him.