Superman, Spiderman, a princess, and Indiana Jones showed up at my door.
Little faces smiling up at me. Little hands holding up heavy, candy-laden bags towards me.
"Trick or Treat!" they all sing in unison.
I'm almost as excited in giving them more candy as they are in receiving it.
I add to their haul and wonder where my child is. Did he score the mother-lode? Did he say, "please," and "thank you?"
Gone are the days that I take him out collecting goodies.
Gone are the days we would wear matching costumes I hot-glued together making us look like road-kill.
Gone are the days that after 6 houses he would get tired and I would carry him home.
So, here I sit in my skeleton hoodie and black jeans waiting for the doorbell to ring again.
Only then can I jump back in time greeting more characters at the door - remembering sweeter days of way back when.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Friendly Fire...
I can't even count the days.
Maybe it would be easier if I figured out how many months it's been.
Our last conversation put an end to our regularly irregular calls.
I know she's angry with me.
In her narcissistic head, I'm sure she feels wronged.
She never took the time to consider me or my feelings.
She was all about her needs and never considered what I requested.
Now she's absent.
Not that her silence will make me change my mind.
I have the patience of a saint in this department. And I have been known to hold a grudge indefinitely.
If she wants to toss a friendship to the wayside because I finally stood up to her, then maybe she really isn't the friend I thought she was.
Maybe it would be easier if I figured out how many months it's been.
Our last conversation put an end to our regularly irregular calls.
I know she's angry with me.
In her narcissistic head, I'm sure she feels wronged.
She never took the time to consider me or my feelings.
She was all about her needs and never considered what I requested.
Now she's absent.
Not that her silence will make me change my mind.
I have the patience of a saint in this department. And I have been known to hold a grudge indefinitely.
If she wants to toss a friendship to the wayside because I finally stood up to her, then maybe she really isn't the friend I thought she was.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Sunsets on another day...
The sun slowly edged its way below the tree line.
Once the sun is set, my vacation is over.
The shadows become stretched as they reach for my chair.
I am no longer held in the sun's embrace.
As the world turns, I am reminded that time marches on.
Even when I wish I had a magic stop-watch to put this day on hold.
Once the sun is set, my vacation is over.
The shadows become stretched as they reach for my chair.
I am no longer held in the sun's embrace.
As the world turns, I am reminded that time marches on.
Even when I wish I had a magic stop-watch to put this day on hold.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Pillow Talk...
They are the keepers of my dreams.
As I lay my head down for the night, I push and pull my ancient, down-filled dream clouds to a comfortable pile.
The white pillow cases present a blank canvas for me. Patterns on the cases, for some reason, make me uncomfortable. It's as if their pictures try to raid and take over my thoughts. I need calm.
I know. I'm odd in my sleeping habits.
Pillows are just so personal for me. I've had mine since I was a child and I don't share.
They've absorbed muffled giggles from sleepovers, tears from a broken heart, and even cradled my aching head during illness.
They hold part of the essence that is me. My dreams and nightmares.
I cannot comfortably use somebody else's pillows either. It's too personal.
What, if by osmosis, my dreams are affected by somebody else's essence?
Or, if I happen to leave behind a little bit of me? Would that make a difference?
Does it even matter?
I fluff my pillows and flop my head down on them. My left arm hooked around one and my head slowly sinks into the other.
The comfortable smell of home fills my senses and I find my eyelids becoming heavy with sleep.
I drift off quickly. Ready for the dreams to take me on an adventure that only I can conjure.
As I lay my head down for the night, I push and pull my ancient, down-filled dream clouds to a comfortable pile.
The white pillow cases present a blank canvas for me. Patterns on the cases, for some reason, make me uncomfortable. It's as if their pictures try to raid and take over my thoughts. I need calm.
I know. I'm odd in my sleeping habits.
Pillows are just so personal for me. I've had mine since I was a child and I don't share.
They've absorbed muffled giggles from sleepovers, tears from a broken heart, and even cradled my aching head during illness.
They hold part of the essence that is me. My dreams and nightmares.
I cannot comfortably use somebody else's pillows either. It's too personal.
What, if by osmosis, my dreams are affected by somebody else's essence?
Or, if I happen to leave behind a little bit of me? Would that make a difference?
Does it even matter?
I fluff my pillows and flop my head down on them. My left arm hooked around one and my head slowly sinks into the other.
The comfortable smell of home fills my senses and I find my eyelids becoming heavy with sleep.
I drift off quickly. Ready for the dreams to take me on an adventure that only I can conjure.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Maybe I need a "time out"...
The smile on her face faltered. A moment of uncertainty flickered in her mind until the realization dawned on her.
Her eyes welled up and tears blurred her vision. She tried to blink them back but the anger had already flooded her heart.
The voice and words that always left her tongue-tied bubbled up and spilled out.
A righteous temper tantrum was let loose on the unsuspecting bystander.
Little did he know he had said her trigger word and now he must face her in all her furious glory.
When she was finished, he was left as a stain on the floor where he once stood. Her rage sated for once.
ps. I wish it really went down that way. But all I could manage to do was stand there and look stupid.
Her eyes welled up and tears blurred her vision. She tried to blink them back but the anger had already flooded her heart.
The voice and words that always left her tongue-tied bubbled up and spilled out.
A righteous temper tantrum was let loose on the unsuspecting bystander.
Little did he know he had said her trigger word and now he must face her in all her furious glory.
When she was finished, he was left as a stain on the floor where he once stood. Her rage sated for once.
ps. I wish it really went down that way. But all I could manage to do was stand there and look stupid.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Looking for love...
She hops from one lover to another - with nary a break between the men. She goes from one bad situation to another in a seamless motion.
Some women look at her as if she were a whore, but I don’t.
I am given a glimpse of what is hidden beneath the surface of her cute face. It is not loose morals.
It is the rejection by her family that has so wounded her, that she’ll never be normal again.
It is her longing to be loved.
By anybody.
Some women look at her as if she were a whore, but I don’t.
I am given a glimpse of what is hidden beneath the surface of her cute face. It is not loose morals.
It is the rejection by her family that has so wounded her, that she’ll never be normal again.
It is her longing to be loved.
By anybody.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Lip service...
She serves you with a smile. I peer at her and see the ease at which her face lights up. The smile is an honest one that reaches up to her eyes.
It makes her all the more pretty in a granola-y way.
When I watch people, I always tend to stare at their mouths.
Do they chew on their lips when they're nervous? Do they hide their smiles or laughter? Are they lip lickers?
There is someone who smiles at me, but it never reaches his eyes. He does it to put me at ease.
But I know better.
He's a shark. Lots of teeth and will go after you if there's chum in the water.
It makes her all the more pretty in a granola-y way.
When I watch people, I always tend to stare at their mouths.
Do they chew on their lips when they're nervous? Do they hide their smiles or laughter? Are they lip lickers?
There is someone who smiles at me, but it never reaches his eyes. He does it to put me at ease.
But I know better.
He's a shark. Lots of teeth and will go after you if there's chum in the water.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Frankly speaking...
His words play back in my mind.
It was such an odd situation that I can't help but play it over and over again in my head.
My moral compass doesn't always point due North, so I try not to judge anyone.
But, dammit, some people don't make it easy for me when they behave the way they do.
I'm not sure what the purpose of the visit was for.
All our friends just seem to appear on or doorstep.
I don't necessarily mind, there's an open door policy we live by.
Was it to brag about his newfound wealth or the fact he was on his way to a booty call that his wife didn't know about?
What sits with me is the fact he's not happy. He's just living and there's no purpose.
What I learned from this conversation is that while money can buy lots of things in this world, it certainly cannot buy happiness.
It was such an odd situation that I can't help but play it over and over again in my head.
My moral compass doesn't always point due North, so I try not to judge anyone.
But, dammit, some people don't make it easy for me when they behave the way they do.
I'm not sure what the purpose of the visit was for.
All our friends just seem to appear on or doorstep.
I don't necessarily mind, there's an open door policy we live by.
Was it to brag about his newfound wealth or the fact he was on his way to a booty call that his wife didn't know about?
What sits with me is the fact he's not happy. He's just living and there's no purpose.
What I learned from this conversation is that while money can buy lots of things in this world, it certainly cannot buy happiness.
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