Memories – Page 2 – 50 Shades of Gray Hair

She Waits

She waits, as she always does, on the south side of the room
The same chair, straight, hard

The only softness is the faded paisley upon the seat
But that comfort is not for her
The oak warms in the sun

But remains cold and hard against her black skin
As she hangs on its back, waiting
For her special someone
To notice

The beams streaming through the door beside her
Unseen but felt
Tickling her, bathing her, tempting her

With promise

The promise of adventure
Oh how she wishes she had the wings of a bird

Like the one she paints
In the dark

From memory

She’d fly through that door
Out there

The sun, the clouds
Fire and rain
She misses them

She almost remembers
Diluted, like watercolor

She draws the lily as she remembers it

She can see it

A light spot in the dark
Of her memory’s eye

The myrtle that should be blooming by now

Longing to set her gaze on the ordinary
That she may set her sights to the extraordinary

This Is what she was born to do
Nothing else

But she has no control
Not over when, not over where
Hers is not to ask why
Hers is but to seek the truth when it is asked of her
Truth in beauty and the beauty in truth

This…is what she remembers…

This…is what she’s missing…

So she waits
Today?
Tomorrow?
As long as she is here
In the same room, on the same chair

She is blind
So she begs
“Uncover my face. Raise me up so that I may whisper in your ear
Be my wings so I can soar over field and stream
Capture the beauty of now
To keep with me for then
Our adventure is out there”

“Let me teach you to see the beautiful in the ugly” she pleads

“Let me show you the extraordinary ordinary” she whispers

She feels
Familiar hands, comforting hands
She’s flying, lifted and carried outside

It begins…today is the day
Eye open wide, taking it in

Capturing life as it happens
Not perfect…

Not posed…

Just life…

Nothing is too small

Tomorrow, she’ll wait again
But today…she flies
Today she is…
Awake

The Eye of the Human Storm

Today’s forecast
Pain with a chance of happiness
Life
It hurts
Our first breath
Born in and out of
Pain
Our last breath
Born in and out of the fear of
Death
Beginning to end
The human struggle to keep moving
Beyond the current pain so we may
Endure the next
To begin again
The circle, the cycle
Of life, of pain
To reach our destination
Death
So
What is the point?
When one ends where one begins?
What is the point?
The middle
Is the point
To feel the heart beat
Of a lover
To hear the laughter
Of a child
To know the touch of another
The touch that completes
Our circle
Ones who will rejoice with us
And for us
And those who will mourn us
But more
Remember
That we were here
That we mattered
That we made the difference
That we closed a part of their own circle
And that they too
Closed a part of ours
To gather
At the end of the day
To hear the sounds of silence
The human sounds
We make without knowing
The sounds of love
And life
The middle
Those sounds our ears miss,
But that our hearts hear
These are the sounds of silence
So loud we are compelled to
Listen
Struggle to keep moving
From one pain to another
For in the end
It is not the pain
We Remember
It is
Love
Our circles have no true beginning
They meld
With our ending
We only have what is in
The middle
Today’s forecast
Pain with a chance of happiness
Take an umbrella if you must
Wear your raincoat
Wear galoshes if you have to
But
Prepare more for getting swept
Into the middle
‘Cause that’s where life happens
In the middle
Never be afraid to get wet
So
Put the fear aside
Go beyond the tropical storm of prologue
Fear not the hurricane of the epilogue
Walk into the wind
Get pummeled by the rain
Get to the eye
The middle
Where the calm allows us to hear
The human sounds of silence

The sounds of Love

For My Father

My First Love ~ My Only Hero

Part I – Knocking on the Door

today she wakes
and looks in the mirror
again
she notices first
the remnants of last night’s all too familiar routine
fully clothed still
with bruise colored footprints left where mascara met shadow
during the waltz of silent tears
evident again in the echo of wine and spit
that mixed and mingled in the dark
leaving traces of their orgy in the corners of her mouth
she raises a limb as heavy as any redwood branch
to touch the nest of bad dreams atop her head
she stares blankly at the woman before her
youth still lives here, but it wears an old coat
to look at the ghost of auburn that was once a crown
a flaming glory that framed her naturally pretty face
is now to look at a reminder
of yet another step further from who she was
another step closer to who she is becoming
where once there was silk and cream
her face is now but a road map
to anywhere but where she wants to be
no distinction can she find
between the sleep weary blouse
and those roads leading everywhere but back
she draws breath and holds it while she raises her gaze
could those eyes really be hers?
the once vivid seas of blue now faded and dull
surrounded by tributaries of red
brooks and streams of guilt, anguish, worry, pain, and sorrow
clouding the windows to her soul
where once there shined such joy and true passion
eyes that burned so bright, they lit the path to his heart
like no man made torch ever could
but
her passion lies miles away
alone, crooked, and silent
his windows too
mostly cloudy with a slight chance of sun
a chance she lives for
but the light thief will return
and she won’t be ready, can never be ready
for that one moment the thief becomes a murderer
the villain of darkness called dementia
her love waits, unknowingly, for that day
she waits with him, but she knows he’s coming
and it’s killing her

part II – Opening a Window

No time to be alone

Spending your oldest child’s 30th birthday alone (if you don’t count wine and Adele) is NOT a good idea.
Geesh!

Then again…it can be quite a ride on the Mommy Memory Train

Happy 30th son…it’s been quite a ride so far.

Do you know why?

In preparation for Memorial Day, May 26th, I’d like to share with you an event that happened in September 2013.

In France.

An event that was not overly (if at all) publicized in the US, though it should have been.

Thankfully, we have friends here and abroad who believe we need to see.

To visualize…just what it is we are memorializing.

Excellent History Lesson

A large percentage of our country doesn’t know of (or therefore, care) about Normandy during WWII.

Has it been removed from the History Books? Do they still teach about D-Day?

British artist Jamie Wardley, Andy Moss, and nearly 600 volunteers, took to the beaches of Normandy with rakes and stencils in hand to etch 9,000 silhouettes representing fallen people into the sand.

Titled: The Fallen 9000 [http://thefallen9000.info/]

The piece is meant as a stark visual reminder of those who died during the D-Day beach landings at Arromanches on June 6th, 1944 during WWII. The original team consisted of 60 volunteers, but as word spread nearly 500 additional local residents arrived to help with the temporary installation that lasted only a few hours before being washed away by the tide.

9,000 Fallen Soldiers Etched into the Sand on Normandy Beach to Commemorate Peace Day on September 25, 2013

A visually stunning reminder of why.

Don’t you agree?

Save a moment during the upcoming ‘Holiday’ to say a word of thanks to all who have, do, and will…serve their countries with one thought in mind…

Our Freedom

God Bless and Godspeed

Lost and Found

Yesterday I visited a too-long forgotten toy box brought to mind by a friend.

Today I found something I’d thought lost when an earlier laptop decided to commit Hara-Kiri.

I love these reminders that I’m getting old…because now when I think I’ve lost something irreplaceable, I can at least hold out hope (if I remember to) that I’ve just forgotten that I took steps to make sure that didn’t happen.

It’s like that AH HA moment of opening the freezer and finding your favorite pair of underwear!

“Ah Ha! Now I remember, I put you in there to help with the night sweats.”

I’m not the only one.

Right?

RIGHT?

Okay, sure, whatever…I’ll just say it made sense at the time and I’m glad all I did was forget I put them there and not that I forgot I had them, or that I lost them, or shit….now I’m so confused.

What was I looking for?

Oh, wait…I found something. That’s it.

I found something I thought I’d lost because I forgot I saved it just in case I lost it because I had forgotten to save it.

Ahhhhh. There…that’s better.

Right?

So…what did the Old Lady That Lived in a Freezer find?

1200 photographs of her ‘once in a lifetime’ trip to London.

I KNOW right? What a thing to think was lost and gone forever!

I was crazy pissed off at my(self) laptop for dying with my magical mystery tour locked inside.

But…I must have had a non-senior moment the day I put them all on DVD, which I found in the last box of ‘stuff’ pulled out of the garage because hubby finally got my bookcases put together.

And imagine my ginormous, humongous, silly ass, what in the hell did you do this time comes spewing out of the hubby’s mouth as he comes running to see what’s happened cause the wife is going ape shit, reaction?

Yup…like that.

Seriously, I swear I’ll never get pissed off when I lose something again (if I remember to) because chances are I’ll remember I just forgot and I’ll find what I lost, or remember what I forgot to remember about where I put it or…crap!

This is too much work. I’ll just try to remember next time that I might have forgotten something.

Right?

Oh…and for the foreseeable future, I’m heading back to London. I’m sure I’ll find something to share.

One stop on the memory train

I read a post today that transported me

That happens quite often doesn’t it?

To all of us?

We’ll hear a tune drifting out the open windows of a passing car and no longer are we standing on a hot sidewalk in line at the ATM, but magically taken to an ‘out of school for the summer’ beach trip with our best girlfriends, laughing and flirting while sand filled our shorts and Sun-In made us all one shade of blonde or another.

Or we’ll catch a smell in the air that immediately takes us back. Maybe to a warm and tiny kitchen in the back of a house shared with the post office; where a grandmother is frying donuts in a big cast iron pot and where too, the back porch isn’t just a place to take off your muddy boots before tramping into Gram’s small but tidy nook…but a place where Gramp sits grinding fresh horseradish, tears rolling down his stubbled cheeks as easily as the sweat pours off his shiny bald knob.

And there are times, we’ll read something, like Tink’s post today, that’s like peeking into that too-long forgotten toy box in your mind’s attic…the one where you keep all your found treasures and best memories of childhood…waiting for a day like today.

Sometimes, these trips down memory lane can cover us in a cloak of sorrow or pain, bringing us back to a time and place we’d rather not go back to, for one reason or another.

Other times, happily I think most times, the places we go in our mind are…

…the places we want to be and in the company of people we want to be with.

This is where I went today, when the toy box opened…with thoughts of long candy counters and a shop owner with the patience God gives older folk…

It sits there still, where it always did.

Across the road from my where my grandparent’s lived, and up two from where I did.

One of two one-room shops in our town of less than…

where one holds the memories of a barrels of chocolate drops, returning bottles for a penny, wood smoke, and men laughing.

while the other is made of children’s dares and double dares to see who’ll go buy the ice cream from the ‘mean old lady’ behind the counter.

And this is who joined me in today’s trip…Gramp in his engineer’s cap and Gram looking the same as everyday I can remember.

And though this is where they are now…

Their permanent home is here…always here…

I thank Tink and her Crazy Train for the ride today. It was welcome and reminded me that I have enough in my heart and my mind to get me through whatever life wants to throw my way.

And maybe someday, when he’s older or I’m gone, this one will hear or see or smell something, some small thing, that will take him back to a time when he knew he was cherished.

Raise a glass with me?

Today is my one year anniversary with 50 Shades of Gray Hair.
And they said it wouldn’t last…HA!

Well, actually, I do have a history…
Remember Help Me Rhonda?

So, it’s actually my second anniversary, but I’m trying to forget deleting myself.

But, all I can say now is “WOW”
A lot has changed (and thank God for hormone therapy!)

So, to celebrate my second chance, and to show my appreciation for all the love and support you have so generously and willingly shown me here these last two years, I’d like to spread some words of wisdom.

I know…I’m better at spreading ‘da poo’ and I will again, but for today…a slight change in tone and texture (eew)

The words may not be mine, but all the same…the photos and the sentiments are, and the lessons are very real.

And finally…

Cheers and thank you all for the love
xo
R

Today

Last night saw the end of the longest running nightmare of our married life.
The move to Virginia
(a.k.a. As the Shade Spins)
(aa.k.a. Two Thugs and a Truck)
(aaa.k.a. The Snap Heard ‘Round the Block)
(aaaa.k.a. Row, Row, Row, Your Washing Machine)

Moving on (yikes, that phrase alone gives me heartburn)…

At 7:00pm we waved goodbye, with heartfelt thanks, to the crew that installed our new floors. Adios and gracias if you know what I mean.

By 9:30pm we’d placed the last piece of furniture, made-up the last bed, plugged-in and set the alarm clock, and hopped (the mattress sits about boob high on me. HE hops…I use a stool) into our bed with sighs (grunts) of exhausted relief.

To say the day went off without a hitch would be completely out of character for me, so in keeping with keeping it real…I suppose I must share that too…

I’m usually the one in charge in all things ‘house’. But due to my slight limitation in mobility, I reluctantly gave up control and took my place as the minion this one time, physically anyway. (For some reason my mouth just can’t give up being the boss!)

Anyway…I was placed inside the frame of the bed, to help place the box spring. But, as my hands were catching the box, my eyes spied the very obvious fact that the bed was NOT in the right place. Why weight it down with box and mattress when we could easily move it first?

So naturally, I dropped the box spring where I stood (I may have spouted something here, but I take the 5th) and turned to exit the interior of the bed frame so I could move the bed to where it belonged.

In doing so, I didn’t quite clear the hurdle that was the side rail…tripped…and landed flat on my face (and boobs and belly and though I didn’t realize it at the time, my left wrist.)

(Did you know that OOF is a real sound? IT IS!)

Anyway, I gave a shout out to the Big Guy upstairs, thanking him for yet another reminder of my bad temper, cradled my wrist, and left the other big guy to finish. Turns out, the tendons on top of my left hand took the brunt, are strained, and yell at me when ever I lift my hand…but other than that, the other bruises will heal.

Considering my history, I’d say this was one of my better days. 🙂

I climbed the mountain that is my bed, and sat up for a while, thinking about the last 10 weeks {‘how the hell did we get through this without killing each other?’ was my predominant thought} realizing that it was going to be the first night since moving in, that I didn’t dread the following morning.

The nightmare was over.

That light at the end of the tunnel that everyone talks about is there.

I can see it.

Today is the first day for the rest of our lives.

Today is a day for emptying boxes, hanging pictures, filling bookcases, marinating steak to put on the grill…

Today is a day for doing NONE of those things because my hand is screaming.

Today is a day for waiting for tomorrow to try again.

Today is a day for blaming no one but myself for things going wrong.

Today is a day for eating humble pie with my grilled steak.

Today is also a day for giving thanks that we’ve made it through the nightmare still optimistic about tomorrow, regardless of what happened 10 weeks or 10 minutes ago.

Today…Is a Good Day!

It is also a day for meeting our new neighbors…they just moved in…next door…a cute couple…and she, like me, seems to be in charge of the house.

I wish them well.

I offer NO advice yet will keep my garden open to them.

Welcome new neighbors…when you get settled, stop by and we’ll sit and chew the suet and reminisce about Moving Day!