A quiet morning today

One that has opened up a path

The one inside her mind

A long forgotten image

Of 5 girls walking a mall

Happy, laughing-together

Dressed in tight blue jeans

Bright white sneakers

White blouses and bags

Typical teenage chatter

Growing in volume

As the window shopping continued

Sadly with time the 5 separated

Each growing a tail of sins

Especially against each other

The youngest-a poor student

Expelled from a public University

Later married as a necessity

The next one studied hard-very hard

A challenge along with some other hardships

Married finally but not a child to be seen

Middle girl was always a bully

Always had sticky fingers and thought she was cute

Her marriage has become a sham-no one speaks to her

Now you have the eldest of the group

Responsible for the rest

Shouldering responsibility not meant for her

Greed and arrogance guided three of the 5

The life lead was not what was taught

They turned on the eldest-hoping to destroy

In life there is payback-life does not forgive

The eldest defended herself but the taint

Of the others was difficult to remove

Now years later that taint is almost gone

It seems that tear made within her is almost healed

Or maybe it is the numbness that she feels

One tail after another

Bloating with poisonous ooze

Erasing the memory of long ago

 

MSM ©November 27, 2014

Knocking on Heaven’s Door

Knocking on Heaven’s Door            

Runny noses and tears on my face

Painful scratches from the cats

Falling due to my own clumsiness

Breathing in the smoggy air

Feeling the heat of the day

Wishing for the cold weather to start

The taste of food that is yummy

And that taste that is so foul your stomach rebels

The memories which linger longer than you like

Anticipating that first kiss

This was not what you thought it would be

Until years later when you meet the love of your life

The sound of that virile voice

Quickening my pulse

As touching brings me full circle

Bringing forth a new life

Getting fat and lumpy

Hearing those first wonderful sounds

It is the feeling of emotions

The daily wave of joy and sadness

The occasional anger which stays or leaves

The rush of emotions

As politics are discussed

Debates won and lost

Meeting different people

Adjusting to different mentalities

Enjoying the experience of new cultures

They say that heaven is perfect

No couples, partners or individual love

No human touches-no sex

That is not my idea of heaven

Why would I want to not feel anything again

That is called death

Heaven is here-right on my doorstep

It is here on earth

Where my humanity is

This is where I will stay

Until my time is up

Until my humanity dies

Do not bury me but allow me to fly

My ashes spreading across the land and sea

Now just let me fly

©MSM October 2014

Ghosts of Christmas

Through the years I have managed to get through day by day without thinking of anything related to the family.  Yes, there were times were certain things raised their ugly head but for the most part-I managed to smile.

Now, it was different.  I have been seized by the ghosts of Christmas past.  Memories of happier times bring tears to my eyes.  Those people no longer exist.  I wait for a glimmer of those ghosts to materialize but they do not.  Sadly, those people have turned into greedy selfish people.  The only care they have is the money-inheritance. 

I close my eyes to listen to the sounds as they play in my head.  The laughter of everyone as they put things together for Christmas; the grumbling of Dad as he examined each light bulb to make sure it lit; the smells coming from the kitchen as holiday treats were being baked or cooked; the smell of cinnamon in the air. I remember placing “footprints” in the sand of the Nativity behind the figurines; Dad coming over to smooth out the sand.  The season was really more his season than anyone I knew then.  What I most remember is the wonderful smell of the pine tree. 

The scene dissolves and another takes its place.  One of a snow covered valley with deer carefully making their way across.  It was a trip we had taken to Utah.  It was a very cold day; my daughter was young-6 yrs old I think.  She ran out into the field and suddenly-she disappeared!  My heart raced and I tried not to panic.  The snow was soft still as it was fresh fallen.  It made running a little difficult as you sank with each step.  I found the spot and I lay on the ground to reach her.  She was down too far-the snow was deep.  The fortunate thing was that there were some skiers who had witnessed the fall into the snow; they arrived to help as tears were falling down my face.  I was in a full blown panic.  They pulled my daughter out of that hole.  I am forever grateful to them. 

Breathing deeply, a certain memory comes up of five sisters walking in the mall.  Three in high school and two in college-all dressed alike.  I remember thinking “We must look like spoiled brats!” We all wore dark blue jeans, white shirts, white tennis shoes and the ever present designer bags. We did not walk in a group but rather in a line, people made way for us.  This memory is one of the few I have of my sisters.  I smile as it was a good day.

Another scene quickly takes its place.  This time it is my Mother-waiting for her children to arrive.  She waited a long time-not too different from the way Dad did in the year before his death.  The sounds of their crying between the looks they gave to the things around them.  I hated them then-now I just pity them.  As pictures fading with time-they too faded away. 

Where did they go?  What happened?  I have no idea.  The loss I am feeling is tremendous-a bottomless abyss.  A blanket of insurmountable sadness wraps itself around me.

The house is dark with no holiday lights, no wreath-no Christmas tree.  Holiday music is not allowed to be played as it only adds to the sadness; the bitterness in the air is tangible-thick.  I am alone waiting for my turn to fade.

©MSM DECEMBER 2013

Shades of Grey

The day started out clouded

Several shades of grey

My soul in tears

It took a day of cleansing

Memories both painful and gloriously happy

To bring back the sun

When I finally looked

I found the clear water

Reflecting the shades of the rainbow

The colors which I had somehow misplaced

MSM© September 21, 2013

No Cure

There is a glistening

Moisture felt in the soul

An ache in the heart

Loneliness starts this way

You think that it will pass

Instead it grows

You fight and fight

Hoping that the forced gaiety

Will drown that growing darkness

For a time-it may water it down

Shades of grey-almost clear

Your face wears a pasted smile

It is a cancer without a cure

The silence of it kills

It feeds on your need

It feeds on mine….

©cb July 2012

Conversation with Daddy

I can't believe that you've been gone so long now. I still hear your voice and hear your sage advice. It has only been a short three years in time but for me it has been an eternity.

I just wanted to talk with you-hear those awful jokes you always told to make all of us laugh.  Most especially those jokes you told when you knew I was angry with you for some stupid thing.  Yes, it was usually me getting upset over things that went wrong but still-I miss your jokes.

You know, since the day you were buried at the mausoleum-I have not been back. That is not where you are for me.  The place smells of death-quiet.  That is not a place for you.  You were always the life of the party.  Joking with everyone and making sure that everyone was comfortable.  I am sure that you probably have tried to liven up that dead place but I don't think our ancestors there had much of a sense of humor.  In fact, they probably kicked you out and you were probably laughing because you wanted to leave! Oh Daddy...it is not right that you are in that cold place alone.

Well, I am not here to cry-I am crying because I do miss you but honestly-that is not the reason for our conversation today.  

What I wanted to tell you Daddy is that I am finally at peace with myself.  Yes, some things have been difficult and many changes have happened since you left.

It was a good thing you were not here to see those changes.  You would have been very sad and you would not have been able to help.  Graduations have been accomplished, divorces and some upcoming marriages as well! 

The marriage is why I am here today with you.  Yes Daddy, mine. I have to laugh because now I know that you cannot bring out the shotgun as you did when I was younger.  You managed to scare off a few suitors but not this one Daddy. He is not the kind to run away.  You would like him.  In fact, you both have much in common.  One is that you both love me!  Mostly Daddy, you would approve of him, he is a good man with a kind heart; intelligent and knows his way in this world.  Your politics might clash but that is okay.  It is good for the heart to have the blood flowing with some controversy. 

I wish you were here to give your blessing.  You know me, I don't want your consent-just your understanding and maybe a smile or two. 

Anyway, Daddy, you are in my heart always.  On my wedding day, you will be at my side as well.

I will be back later-to talk a little more. 

I am always be your little girl....

© cb-sept 2011

Conversación con Papá 

No puedo creer que ha pasado tanto tiempo. Todavía oigo su voz y puedo escuchar tus sabios consejos. Sólo ha sido unos cortos tres años en el tiempo, pero para mí ha sido una eternidad. 

Yo sólo quería hablar contigo - oír esos chistes horribles tuyos y que siempre nos hace a todos reír. Muy especialmente aquellas bromas de los que me decias  cuando estaba enojada contogo  por alguna estupidez. Sí, fue por lo general-you quien estaba enojada por cosas que salian mal, pero aún echo de menos tus chistes. 

Sabes, desde el día en que te enterraon en el mausoleo-Yo no he vuelto. Ese lugar no es lo que tú eres para mí. Ese lugar huele a muerte-silenciosa. Que no es un lugar para ti. Siempre fuiste el alma de la fiesta. Bromeando con todo el mundo y asegurarse de que todos al tu arrededor estaban cómodos. Estoy muy segura de que has tratado de darle vida a este lugar muerto, pero no creo que nuestros antepasados  tenían mucho sentido del humor. De hecho, es probable que te expulsaron y tu te reías debido a que querías salir! Aye papá ... no es justo que te encuentres en ese lugar frío y solo. 

Bueno, yo no estoy aquí para llorar.  Si lloro pero es porque te echo de menos. La verdad es, tengo otra razón para nuestra conversación de hoy. 

Lo que quiero decirte Papá es que finalmente estoy en paz conmigo misma. Sí,es cierto-algunas cosas han sido difíciles y muchos cambios han ocurrido desde que te fuiste. 

Fue una suerte que no estabas aquí para ver los cambios. La tristesa en tu Corazon te hubiera matado de seguro y no habiera manera de poder ayudar. Graduaciones se han cumplido, los divorcios y algunos matrimonios próximo también!

Sobre el matrimonio es el por que estoy aquí hoy contigo. Sí papá, es la mía. Me tengo que reír, porque ahora sé que no se puede llevar a cabo la escopeta como lo has hecho cuando era más joven. Se las arregló para asustar a algunos pretendientes, pero no a pa él papá-él no es el tipo de huir. De hecho, ambos tienen mucho en común y uno de ellos es que ambos me quieren mucho! Sobre todo papá, él es un buen hombre con un corazón bondadoso, inteligente y conoce su camino en este mundo. Su política puede estar en contradicción, pero eso está bien. Es bueno para el corazón que la sangre que fluye con una cierta controversia. 

Me gustaría que estuvieras aquí no tanto por tu bendición. Tu me conoces, yo no quiero tu consentimiento, sólo tu comprensión y tal vez una sonrisa ….o dos. 

De todos modos, Papá, estás en mi corazón siempre. El día de mi boda, estarás a mi lado también.

Volveré más al rato y seguimos platicando. 

Siempre soy y seria ciendo tu niña .... 

© cb-sept 2011

Living Ink

My fingers slowly trace the lines of the last letter you wrote to me.  Funny how with the simple sensation of the ink raised upon a simple sheet of paper can invoke such memories - feelings.  My eyes slowly well with tears – there is too much pain still.

Still holding that precious sheet of tangible memory, I take a deep breath to hold myself together.  I try to clear my mind, still my heart, quiet my soul but it does me no good.  At unexpected times of the day – it hits with a vengeance.  Try as I might I can’t let go.

It has been four years but still you are deep inside me.  The flavor of your skin and your scent is still embedded in my memory.  Your laughter resonates in my mind – I hear your voice at odd times.  There are times where I see you or at least that is what my eyes seem to think.

This letter – this living ink – is all that is left of you.  We live on in my mind and I am going crazy….

© cb-june 2011

Diary date November 7:

It’s Mom’s birthday and she wants to forget.  Forget that she had a life and that she still has one.  Forget the 60 years or so of marriage which is now dead and buried with Dad.  Forget the family she raised, cried over and sent onward into adulthood.  Yes, she wants to forget.

She has been in tears, semi-tears-silent sobs.  I am helpless in this as there is nothing I can do to make her feel better.  Celebrating her wonder-filled life has no impact on her.  The worst thing-not one person has even called her to even say hello!

Mom died the day Dad died.  She has become a walking zombie.  The worse thing is that her precious children-the favorite ones-have her buried in life.  They come by the house and leave with things.  Taking without asking or taking with pressure.  Mom is not strong enough to say no.  She thinks that if she says no...they will not come again. 

The truth is that they will not come anyway.  It is an obligation.  Someone once asked me why I stayed.  I am not her favorite-I was Dad’s.  I have put up with a lot of meanness and petty anger from her.  In a way-I am Cinderella in my own parent’s home.

I stay because she needs me...and she does not realize it.

Happy Birthday Mom...i know you cannot hear me nor want to but Happy Birthday.

© 2010 NOV 7/cb

Regrets

The light filtered through the bay windows as I cleaned the table.  It was a small breakfast table-the kind which allowed for intimacy.  It was centered in the garden room where the early morning light was the best.  I can still hear the clink of the glassware and the silver as the table was set.  It seated four, a round glass table top with beveled edges and four English antique chairs. 

Looking at these chairs sure brought back a flood of memories.  My daughter had fallen backwards on one-the back of the chair saving her head and a trip to the emergency room.  Mom could only yell about how expensive the chair was.  She was still yelling when my 2 year old offered up her savings-at the time- two pennies.   Tears welled up in my eyes at the memory.  The look on her face was just heart-breaking as tears rolled down her small face.  Still Mom yelled about the cost of repair as she looked at her grand-daughter’s welling eyes.  I remember holding her small body and just giving my Mother a look of incredibility.   That memory still burns with pain.  How can she be so inconsiderate-so mean!

Shaking my head loose from the past, I continued to clean the table, moving the antique lace runner where a glass red apple rested-another memory intruded.  Dad was laughing at some stupid joke he made-his laughter bouncing off the high ceiling.  I smiled at that as I remember that conversation.  We were arguing about how the ceiling was going to be fixed.  I knew we needed to get someone younger to climb but no-he insisted on doing the work himself.  He had crawled into the small attic-really more like a crawlspace-and became stuck!  I was laughing so hard and so was he until we realized that if we could not get him unstuck-the fire department would!  Then the ceiling really would have a huge hole!  Finally the laughter stopped as he started to pass out-it was hot that day and the space he was in did not have air-conditioning.  He finally managed to get himself loose and crawl out.  He looked a mess!  Our eyes met and all we could do was laugh our heads off.  Smiling to myself-it was one of those things that you really had to be there for.  It was a memory shared only between Dad and me.   

I wish Mom could have been there-maybe she would not be so bitter now.  He was so different with me.  Well-maybe that was the problem between her and me.

I sat down for a moment in his chair-funny how it will always be his chair.   Before me flashed my last conversation with my mother as we shared a meal.  It ended badly that day.  She was really on a roll.  As much as I tried to be cordial-nothing satisfied her.  I guess the last trigger was when I shared a religious observation-one she did not agree with-which brought forth that last tirade.   She just did not want to be stopped.  Her words just gather speed.  Like a rock gathering moss as it rolls downhill-they became filled with vile and hate.  Her face contorted into someone I did not know.  Truth be known-I really did not know her.  I tried to understand her but she was never easy.  She was a riddle to me.  Her verbal attack continued.  She just let it out on the only person there-me.  She did not know I knew how her marriage started-how many times she would berate Dad.  She did not know of my silent tears when he was close to his end-how I heard her cruelty with him.  She called me irresponsible and immoral-I knew it was not true. I took it-painful stab after painful stab-I took it all.  She wanted to see me break-I did not give her the satisfaction.

The next day she did not wake at her usual hour.  Her bedroom door remained closed.  Finally I entered after not receiving any answer to my knock.  I found her in the bathroom-her final end was one of nature’s call-not in a graceful situation.   I cleaned her body up and made sure she was presentable.  Even in death, I could not let her be seen in a bad light.  Her eyes were now in their grey color-the color she gets when she is tired.  Her skin was now cold-rigor had set in. 

I sat with her until the paramedics arrived to pronounce her dead.  As per her wishes-her body was taken directly to the mortuary and then to the crematorium.  She did not want any mourners.  She died alone-as she always verbalized.  I wonder if she regretted that decision at all.  I wonder if she ever found peace.  In the end, it was dark for her.  She never saw another sunrise. 

A single tear rolls down my face as regrets rack my body.  Closing my eyes I see her before me-only this time smiling and happy.  I guess I have my answer to my question about her.  Beside her is Dad-lovingly holding her hand-she was now at peace as her meanness had disappeared. I guess what she needed was his love to herself.  Even her children were a challenge.  They both walk away-leaving me alone.  Opening my eyes, I finish with the cleaning.

I take one last look around at the home I have known all my life.  What few regrets I have had in my life-I leave them here.  The house is now a mausoleum of memories.  Leaving the keys in the front foyer, I leave the house to start my own life away from here.  The realtor will be here soon enough. 

© 2010 6 august/cb