All Fired Up...

The wood was stacked neatly by the hearth.

"Do you want a fire tonight?" He asked me.

"Yes, please." I reply.


He arranges the logs in some sort of geometric pattern. Kindling poking out and discarded magazines twisted into colorful origami in between.


He heats up the flue and I hear the air get sucked up the chimney.

The paper is lit in no time and I have a roaring bon-fire in my fireplace.


It is so hot we can't sit too close for fear that our eyebrows will be incinerated.

So, from afar I enjoy the fire blazing in front of me.

I curl up on the couch and let the warmth envelope me. My cat joins me in appreciating the golden glow.

As my eyes close, I listen to the fire speak it's language. Pops, crackles, and hisses.

My mind welcomes the new nature-speak and I feel myself drift into sleep.

Oh, I do love to lay by the fire and do nothing.

Static in the Attic...

I move the antennae and clear thoughts come through. I rush to put them on paper. I can't write fast enough.

Sometimes they are clean and unfiltered only waiting until I have time to acknowledge them.

Other times a storm comes through and move the antennae for me. those ideas tend to be cluttered and jumbled. Fragments of complete thoughts pop out. I must wait for the storm to pass before it is safe for me to get a clear picture.

I write and write and write until the signal fades and the static returns.

It's always the same for me.

Get it out until the soothing white noise fills my head again.





we now conclude our broadcast day....


pshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....

Verbal Ebola...

The words churned in my mind for a week. I couldn't figure out what pissed me off so much and then it hit me.

"Um, that would be a no."

Your flippant reply was the last straw. It's one thing to tear me down bit by bit (Something you seem to either take great pleasure in doing or are so oblivious you don't realize the callousness of your actions.)

It's quite another when you let your mouth loose on someone I love. Someone who's not used to your mouth being engaged before your brain has a moment to shut it off.

What. The. Hell?!

You could've said "no" so much nicer.

Don't you realize your words are killing the people around you?

Open your eyes.

Look at the corpses. We're piling up.

The fastest way to my heart is with an arrow...

I try so hard to not think of him, but it's nearly impossible.

Past wounds - some fresh, others just nasty scars - remind me constantly of what he's capable.

His name is not spoken often so I may move on from the latest train wreck that has now become our relationship.

Two months is not nearly enough time or space for me.

If he wonders why I never call, he doesn't mention it. Maybe he knows and that's why he never calls. I don't know.

The latest insult action has once again hit the bulls-eye.

Somebody needs to disarm him.

It can't be me.

I'm still on the floor bleeding and trying to pull the arrow out of my heart.

And I didn't even kill the messenger...

You took the responsibility and placed it in your capable hands.

I don't envy you one bit. The task you took on was going to hurt me in no uncertain terms, but somebody had to do it.

Did you pull the shortest straw? Lost a bet? Or did you know how to soften the blow for me? My guess is the latter.

You were right in telling me. I know it wasn't easy. I could tell in your eyes you didn't want to do it, just to spare me.

I was brave and took it like a, um, like a... Well. Like a person who was taken by surprise and not really surprised by it all.

All I can say is thank you.

The message sucked but you didn't.

I am too much (sometimes)...

He wakes up with a sunny disposition. Why, I ask, are you so happy in the damn morning? There's really no need for such cheeriness that early in the morning.

I grumble and roll away from his smiling face. A snarl emerges from my lips as I attempt the impossible - returning to my slumber.

He rolls with me and wraps his arms around me. I can feel his face nuzzle my neck as my body stiffens.

He knows me well enough to know that he's treading on dangerous ground, yet he continues to snuggle me.

I try to scootch towards the edge of the bed and he is stuck to me like glue.

He kisses my bare shoulder and asks me, "Am I too much?"

"Yes!" I bark at him, "Sometimes you are too much."

My answer elicits a giggle from him as he starts to sing.

I am too much.

I am toooooo much!

I am tooooo muuuuuuch!

With that I get out of bed and glare at him.

"Yes, you are too much!"

I head towards the bathroom to put a door between me and my singing husband.

As the door shuts behind me, I hear one last time.

I AM TOO MUCH!

I guess there are worse ways to be woken up...

It's not easy being me...

I love being a woman. Even when I was a child, I looked forward to growing up and being able to wear the pretty dresses and killer shoes.

I love slipping on the gorgeous undergarments and hiding them with my wardrobe. A secret just for me.

I love wearing subtle make-up and putting a hint of perfume behind my ears. A secret just for him.

I love the jangle of bracelets on my wrists as I walk down the stairs and the click of my heels on the tile announcing "girl on the move."

What I don't love is the maintenance. I hate shaving but nobody wants to see a gorilla in a dress.

I also hate panty hose. The moment I put them on I begin to feel suffocated. Like I'm being strangled. I'd rather staple my tongue to a table than put hosiery on.

So, today I enjoy being a girly-girl, but tomorrow I just might really enjoy the non-frilly side of me by putting on a broken-in pair of Levis and a comfortable sweater and some kick-ass boots.

It takes one to know one...

I tapped my fingers to the music on the steering wheel while waiting for the light to turn green. I get stuck at this light nearly every day going to and from work. I don’t mind so much. It’s not a long light and the intersection is actually fairly pretty. Go figure.

This particular morning the light seemed to be stuck in a red holding pattern, which gave me time to look around. Same trees on this corner, leaves piled up on that corner, students laughing and walking to school on that corner over there.

Then I noticed her.

She was a solitary student on the last corner. It was so obvious that she was not part of the group ahead of her. That group all looked the same – kind of like lemmings. Pretty hair. Pretty smiles. Pretty clothes. Pretty, pretty, pretty with a ton of confidence thrown in for good measure.

By contrast, she was none of those things. Her unkempt hair (maybe she brushed it with a blender) flying wildly in the wind, bright purple shirt with some decal on it, baggy bluish-black pants, and beat up Chucks were nothing compared to the gigantic glasses that hid her small face. Her book bag looked well worn and held together by dirt, tape, and safety pins. She was not smiling, nor was she having any fun. She did not exude that, “This is me, deal with it” attitude. She was trudging for yet another day of Hell at school.

Immediately I knew we were kindred spirits. When I was her age, my entire walk to school was spent in my head trying to figure a way to get out of going to school that day.

I didn’t have the cool clothes, I had the knock-offs. My mother cut my hair. My shoes were bargain basement. To top it off, I was weird. I spent a lot of time trying to figure things out in my head. School was just another lump in my pile of shit.

I didn’t know I was going through my awkward phase. I thought I was in one of the seven circles of Hell. I didn’t know I would eventually pull myself together - get a boyfriend, wear the clothes I wanted, dye my hair crazy colors, get married, have a kid, kill plants for fun, cook almost edible food, be happy with myself and my life.

The light changed to green and I headed through the intersection. As I passed the girl, I smiled at her. While she may think I’m some sort of freak, (and at that age I would think I was a freak too) I hope she received my good thoughts: “This too, shall pass.”

Here comes trouble...

The slow death of a season is surrounding me. What was once green and lush has turned into gold, rust, and brown. The trees lose their leaves at a faster pace than I realized they would.



The smell of a summer storm on the horizon has been replaced with the damp earth scent. The smell of decaying leaves turning into mulch.

I love the fall. The beauty of the trees showing their last hurrah for the year pleases my eye. The wind picks up and I find it bites at my skin. My cheeks and tip of my nose become rosy.

The rustle of the golden fallen leaves blow past my feet at a hurried pace - as if they are running just ahead of the coming winter.

Even though summer has been erased from the landscape, I find myself eyeballing a fresh pile of leaves and smiling.

They are just right for me to jump in and scatter in the wind.

With quick steps, I head towards the large mound. One foot kicks into the pile and I start to giggle. Always the inner-child appears when it comes to Autumn. I shuffle my feet and hear the sound I was searching for:



shhhhp
shhhhp
shhhhp
shhhhp

Looking behind me, I see the trail I made. Now it's time to play. I blast color everywhere as I kick at the pile.

What was once neat has now become a mess. A big mess I made.

I grab the rake to bring it all together again. To make it back how it had been. One big pile of color.

I am sweaty and tired with leaves in my socks and hair, but I look at this cleaned up stack and feel the urge to play again.



One foot in the pile and I hear the rustle.

Here we go again...

Coming Undone...

Slowly, I step back. The tethers that had once held me so tightly have loosened their grip and I am able to free myself. As strong as my bindings had been – made of leather and bound tightly as to hurt me – they are now but a memory lightly grazing over my skin.

At one time, I thought breaking away would cause such pain that I wouldn’t be able to bear it. The complacency of being held too tightly was doing more damage than protecting me. Offering the chance to others to tie the knots tighter and tighter, I didn't realize that I was the one harming myself. I envisioned that when I was finally able to rip myself loose, that scars would remain from the struggle of separation.

The tethers kept me from being who I really am. What I really am.

Present day shows the ties that were there are no longer holding me. I was just in that position for so long I didn’t realize that they were gone. I didn’t know how to look for the signs of freedom. Now I see it plain as day and I wonder why it took me so long to figure it out.

Quietly, I set myself free and slip out the back door. No questions asked.

Unbound
Unnoticed
Unbothered
Unencumbered
Uninhibited
Uncomplicated, and
Untouched.



Ps – It was the neglect and games that set me free. “I told you so” is not really necessary even though you were so right. Sometimes you get shown the light in the strangest of places if you look at it right.