I have a photo of you aged five. You are seated, hands folded, a failed attempt at a smile on your lips, your eyes full of fear. And tears. Next to you, your three-year-old sister’s face is alight with a beautiful smile for the camera. The photo, almost a centerpiece on my dresser, is an 8x10 black and white; it is surrounded by joy-filled pictures of my son and husband. The contrast is stark.

I found your photo in the attic not so long ago, in a box full of old albums I inherited from your great-aunt Deenie – my favorite of all the old ladies that peopled my childhood and young adulthood. I long suspected she was the only one that ever treated you with kindness. But, unfortunate for you, she was far away in Chicago; before you came along she had already become an infrequent visitor, having escaped from the tentacles of meanness and despair that choked the hope and joie de vivre from your little soul before this picture was taken.

I have your eyes.

Every time I gaze upon your five-year old face, my heart squeezes. So young and already you wore a look that said, I want to please you, what am I doing wrong? Why do you hate me so? Love me. Please.

I love you.

Your sister, whose mind was never whole when I knew her, looks so happy – the unfettered joy of childhood. The contrast is extreme. I wonder when you lost yours; if, indeed, you’d ever had it. Was your mother’s hatred, disappointment, anger inflicted upon you from the moment she knew you were inside her?

Or did it grow with her belly and only show itself when you burst crying into this world?

Or was it a slow and steady descent? Did it take her by surprise that she had no love for this child of her womb? Had drink already fogged her brain, distorting reality so that somehow you were the cause of all her travails? As if you had asked to be born.

You never asked to be born, indeed, you spent all the time I knew you, ready for death, open-armed. You did the best you could.

Even as an adult, you still sought to please your mother; to feel her love. Months before your death, she was still sneeringly narcissistic, compelling you to apologize to me, your pregnant daughter, for her malevolence.

You died six years younger than I am now, still feeling unloved, despite the world of love that surrounded you.

Twenty years later, she died alone.

They burned rainbow flags

Just to turn them grey

Removing all their rays

Before going to pray

No proof is written anywhere

Just lies flying everywhere

Stop using it as a reason

To kill our civilization

People are dying of homophobia

Because of words written in some books

More toxic than the venom of a cobra

But to the cure they don't give a look

Saying that Adam and Eve got married

But no one was invited

It's just a story we tell to kids

Of it we can't get rid

Adam and Eve never existed

Believing in them is just insane

Maybe with two boys God have started

Or with two girls, living without pain

The bunkers finally opened and then came out darkened and frowned people with pale faces, who stormed in the abandoned, quiet streets like wild herds.

It had been a long time since the last time anybody had seen any bright sunshine; the full moon or the scattered shooting stars in the blue night sky.

They looked disoriented and lost, hungry for something new like scavengers. They would seem to grow distaste for living, if the hideout continued any longer than it had.

They had been starved of freedom, of their own existences, for the simple things in life they had taken for granted before the necessary quarantine that forced them to go sheltering under grounds.

The hiding was officially over now. They wanted to live again.

As soon as they stood on the green pastures, they began screaming, suffocating each other with gleeful chants, as they melted in each other’s arms, hugged and wrapped like warm blankets revealing their vulnerabilities; they cried and laughed together. In those sureal kindled moments, they seized the time to look at one another’s saddened and woefully lost eyes and finally understood humanity, and their capabilities and the costly life prices which each person had paid during the pandemic.

Now, hands and minds intertwined, they were saturated with each other’s hopes, as they started inhaling the breezy fresh air into their desperate lungs. Their old lifestyle as they knew it had completely vanished and changed forever. They had to start from a scratch, learning how to live again.

The self-isolation lasted a few years. During the selfless times that even bonded foes, where the novel contegon took more than ten million lives, behind the sealed walls underground, hope seemed to fade away like a morning mist. Life was as quiet as darkness void. It was radio silent. It was bleak. Silence and fear were the only things lurking in the shadows unafraid. The virus was in a hunting spree, catching and affecting anything it came in contact with, it spreaded fear and terror like a virus, making life abnormal. 

The emotional flood somehow had come to an end, so they all dispersed to find their old dwellings, or whatever was left of it. They scattered, ghostly moving in different directions to find their own life. They knew that there was no certainty of normalcy, but they had to try it.

A year went by after the pandemic ended, and gradually, normalcy became feasible. But sadly, being human never changed because, as soon as the sun descended, history began to repeat itself, as human savagery started lurking in shadows, and the casualties outnumbered the pandemic loss overnight.

The Earth became a killing ground of greed all over again!

MidnightInk 4-25-20

Hello My Friends!

This was something I did about 10 years ago … just saying …

(For those able to hear it that is)

http://www.singsnap.com/karaoke/r/b0c775f5

So where do I start?

There was about a two-week period that I was out of it for starters. All I remember the day of the accident is two cars in front of me turning both left and right and one was hit by a semi-tractor trailer that had jumped the divide. That car flipped a bit in the air and crashed right into my car and that was the last thing I remembered. Needless to say but my driving days are pretty much over.

When I came around, I found out I had lost about 90% of my left arm, lost my left eye, and basically, both hips screwed back into my body. As to the arm, actually; I have about 80% back by Andy, the therapist said I wouldn’t get much more, and at best 85%. So, it takes me time to type now.

I have undergone a lot of physical therapy to relearn or better still, how to walk, although I still use a wheelchair for distance travel. Gave up the walker about a couple weeks ago. I can walk short distances, very short to this point, no more than half a mile.

Sorry for the curt message from my friend last year, one my Scrabble buddies of which that game takes a back seat for now. I would have mentioned something sooner, but my priority was to see if I could get my body back in order. Pretty sure you can all agree on that. and sometimes sitting for too long.

Screws are still intact and sometimes sitting for too long gets me to aching but slowly getting better at.

I learned something in the hospital, too. There are three of me in the county I was living in at the time. I was later moved closer to my Uncle and his daughter and still live there (Whiteville). Small town about 20,000. Anyway, of the other two, one is a lawyer and the other is an inmate on probation if I remember right. A detective actually came to the hospital, took a picture and got my prints to verify I am who I say I am. Honestly, I found that disturbingly funny.

I want to thank those of you who emailed me (ya know who you are!!) to check on me, greatly appreciated, just sorry it took so damn long for me to get back with ya’ll!!

It is good to know everyone here is doing the social-distance thing (insert giggle, laughter, grin or a smirk).

Lately, I’ve been keeping track of the number of cases, deaths and recoveries. Gives ya a strong indication where everyone is verses what you hear through the news. If you haven’t see this yet, you can get it through here:

https://youtu.be/R2Z598D7Xq4

On a final note for now, I will be here a couple times a week and plan on reopening up a few things I started before all this happened. I’ll post the now and then poem/story and if the fancy strikes me, a challenge or two or three (self-applied smile here).

For those who remember, I used to help out with formatting/editing work, and because of the time and detail it takes, for now, that’s off limits. (Still have to get use to walking into walls, doors and people with only one good eye).

Oh c’mon, dammit … LAUGH!

I do want to thank all of you who left well wishes prior to this … it did my heart good.

So, hello, my friends, hello … and until next time … rock on and write on!!

Once I was seven years old my father told me

You should yourself some friends or you'll be lonely

Once I was seven years old

It was an awkward world, I wanted to be better

Changing myself because I thought it would earn me friends faster

By eleven moving houses and starting middle school

Two weeks and students started spreading a stupid rumor

Once I was twelve years old my one friend told me

I’m moving, make new friends or you’ll be lonely

Once I was twelve years old

In the fall I met the first friends who accepted me

I started loving being me, thank you Kat and Crowley

My parents didn’t like their living and tried to stop me

Triggered depression cause I wouldn’t leave my new family

Once I was fifteen years old, I had left Crowley

For a year of crippling anxiety

Once I was fifteen years old

Back at public after my freshman failure

Knew I was bi as my crush grew into something major

I only told Crowley and my friends that matter

In theatre you’ll see me as an elf in the play in winter

Once I was sixteen years old, my story got told

I was writing horror that had made people scared of me

Once I was sixteen years old

Soon I’ll be twenty years old, college is my goal

Graduating in two years and I’m still learning

Soon I’ll be twenty years old

I’m still working for my life

See a therapist to help me

become a happier person

Not one trapped in depression

I'm still best friends with Crowley

while at different universities

And one more, though we don’t speak much

Sara I feel so sorry

Soon I’ll thirty years old, my dad’s now at sixty-three

Remember life now that you’re at a better place to be

Teaching to kids that are in places where I was once

I hope to see my friends maybe every couple of months

Soon I’ll be thirty years old, will I still feel numb and cold

Or will I have a life I love and makes me happy

Soon I'll be thirty years old

Soon I’ll be thirty years old, will I still feel numb and cold

Or will I have a life I love and makes me happy

Soon I'll be thirty years old

Once I was seven years old my father told me

You should yourself some friends or you'll be lonely

Once I was seven years old

Once I was seven years old

#song #parody #life

Unfortunately, this isn't about fireworks. My relationship with my boyfriend had always been tumultuous. Lately, though, the resentments stacked upon distrust and blanketed with fear had become too much for me to handle. The relationship was at its one year mark, and I decided, sink or swim, it was time to meet my family. I could use their opinion, and our 4th of July barbecue seemed the perfect occasion for a multitude of reasons. The location was my Aunt and Uncle's house, a two and half hour drive from Philly.

My daughter had been staying with my older sister in North Jersey. We were going to rendezvous at the barbecue and I was going to take her home from there. My oldest son decided not go for reasons too extensive to explain in this narrative and irrelevant to the point of the story. My youngest son was with his father for the holiday. Non-negotiable, like everything else with his father.

When I informed my daughter that I invited my boyfriend and he was riding back with us, she said that made her uncomfortable. She didn't want to be alone in the car with us. Her bedroom is next to mine, so she is the only one who has really been subject to some of our louder moments of discord. So I said, fine, I will not bring him.

Well, this was entirely unacceptable to my boyfriend. He became very upset and decried the callousness of my decision to choose my daughter's feelings over his. He asked to strike a deal, how about if he took the bus home from my Aunt and Uncle's house so she wouldn't have to be alone with us and he could still attend the barbecue. I shot her a text to see if this compromise was acceptable, and in the meantime, I confirmed with him that he was really willing to take a bus back.

He stated that he takes the bus from DC frequently enough, and it would be fine. He found that the latest bus to leave was 8:30 p.m., and considering the barbecue started at 5:00, I again confirmed this was his desire as it meant he would spend more time in transit than actually at the party. My daughter texted back she was fine with him coming if she didn't have to ride home with him, and I again confirmed this was what he wanted to do with his holiday. Meet my family and spend hours in transit instead of hanging out with his family and basically having zero drama.

I didn't speak this fear at the time (and I most certainly should have), but I worried that I was going to be put into the position, once we were there, of bringing him home with us. I didn't want my daughter or me to be emotionally manipulated once we were there, like can't he just have a ride back we were being unreasonable it's so far, the bus is uncomfortable, etc., etc.

With much trepidation (on my part) we embarked on the journey. The ride down was not remarkable. We arrived at the party and he was ill received by my parents, which was to be expected, and then we sort of parted ways for a while as I caught up with my daughter, niece and nephew, cousins, etc., etc. He hung out in the kitchen mostly (because food).

Around 7:30 p.m. we were sitting next to each other at the dining table. One of us made a comment about getting to the bus station in the near future. A few moments later, he asked for the key to the car. I gave it to him, he went out the door and I turned my full attention to the dance competition my niece and nephew and little cousins had orchestrated. After a while, I realized he had never come back inside and I went out. At this point it's around 8:00 p.m. He said we should get to the bus station. I queried as to whether he was going to say goodbye to anyone, he said there wasn't time, and I went back inside to grab my phone and let people know I was going to be gone for a few minutes.

The bus station was four tenths of a mile from my Aunt and Uncle's house. A few stop signs into the trip, he says he doesn't think we're going to make it in time and can't he just ride home with us. Well, I went from zero to rage in the blink of an eye. I had been holding this fear in all this time that I would be put in this position, and, unbelievably to me, here I was. I hardly remember what I was saying but whatever it was, it was loud. He looked at me, incredulous, and said to let him out of the car. I was still on my rage rant, but at this point we are around the corner from the bus station. I said I would just take him and see if he can still catch the bus but, admittedly, I was yelling when I said it. He jumped out of the car at the stop sign. I yelled after him, you are making this decision to walk away right now. He kept walking.

So here's the inside scoop. As a child, teenager, young adult...all of them...my feelings and opinions were ignored by parents. As a result, I learned my feelings didn't matter over someone I loved or who was in a position of authority. Throughout my adult life, this default "understanding" of myself and my place in the world has caused me nothing but physical, emotional and spiritual harm. I absolutely refuse to do that to my daughter. Her feelings of comfort, especially around an adult male she hardly knows, have to take precedent over said adult male. Period.

Should I have expressed all of these things to my boyfriend? Absolutely. Should I have allowed him to come? I am thinking no, I shouldn't have. Should we have broken-up over the incident? Doesn't really matter, we did.

I don't remember being quite that angry in quite a long time. Was it disproportionate to the offense? On its face, yes, it absolutely was. Should I have taken some deep breaths before responding? Um, yes, I was admittedly out of control. In my defense, I had recently stopped drinking (my normal coping mechanism), and I had spent the last few hours with my family (a trigger requiring the engagement of coping mechanisms), and I already had played this whole scenario out in my head. By internalizing my fear instead of discussing it, I allowed this situation to unfold the way that it did. Mea culpa.

My takeaway from this experience is that if I allow my fears to fester internally, I will lose control of my rational response in the face of the manifestation of that fear. My other takeway? I suck at relationships.

Thanks @tmakovic for this challenge. Apparently I needed to process incident this further.

They say sorrow floats

So I put mine in boats

And float it away –

Couldn’t bear it to stay.

You can’t drown sorrow though

As the records all show

If you drink to forget

You’ll remember it yet.

When I float it away

It still comes back one day

Often worse than before

Beating down my mind’s door.

So there’s no other way

Face your sorrows today

Deal with each one by one

’Til your sorrows have gone

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6gG5AdGWnVU

I watch in awe,

As the dancer

Gets in her position...

Like she’s on a mission..

I seek an answer

Hmm, Is she the only one?

Wait, more appear...

Leaping across the stage~

Like a herd of gazelles....

They soon vanish•

In a cloud of smoke~~

The scene- all set....

On with the show

As I watch from way—

Up high, a sweet view!

Ah, I’m in charge,

Of this main task

If you were ’bout to ask..

Not only do I get to

See her twirl & spin,

From the very top!

But I have the chance

To set the bright..light

Right ov’r her ev’ry move..

Then I begin to wonder

S’more, ‘n’ ponder....

Does she find this difficult?

Eh, from seeing her,

All these years.....dancing

She makes it look easy!

#Difficile

I don’t understand why she doesn’t think he loves her. He hit her once and he said he would never do it again. I mean look at me and Bobby. It’s not like he’s cheating now that’s a red flag. She should forgive him he probably was just drunk. She’s not like me I just let them take him away from me why would I do that. It wasn’t my idea. I can barely breathe on my own without him. I can never get used to a hospital bed. Two fractured rib don’t really help either. The look on his face when they escorted him out. If he didn’t care he wouldn’t have brought me to the hospital in the first place. I didn’t mean to get him locked away. But they say he’s unsafe and I should let him go he’s the victim screaming for help I just can’t hear him all the time so he taps me to get my attention that’s all.