To me it seems obvious…
I know I blush when I talk to him
I laugh a little too easily at his jokes
my heart beat is so fast and loud when he is near
if our hands should touch I smile for hours
silly things remind me of him
he is on my mind all day long
and in my dreams each night
…but to him he only sees a friend.
I feel like my babbling fingertips have no destination in mind tonight, no focus, no goal – you have been warned. All I know is I want to be a part of my great grandmother’s miniature world. She made these perfect little worlds out of any supplies she could find. The first work of hers that I saw was a winter wonderland village that she created and gave to my grandmother. A lot of cardboard, paint, wood and imagination went into her creation. It was beautiful and every year I would study it in detail when we would visit for Christmas.
In later years she made two different rooms and did use a few store-bought doll house supplies but in her eighties this was still incredible detailed delicate work she did to create the scenes. I always admired her talents and inspiration. She could see so many possibilities in what people though of as insignificant scraps. Her worlds were perfect in my mind.
If I could just be a part of that living room where the woman was sitting in a rocking chair as happy as could be with her magazine pictures on the wall and knitting supplies in a bowl next to her… wouldn’t I be happy then. Everything decorated just right and kept tidy. The woman’s face forever with a smile.
My last smile seems days away. Not enough sleep (nothing out of the ordinary there) and too many problems. Bills keep rolling in but there is no money when you can’t work. I have been flaring with my fibromyalgia and hurt a lot. In that miniature world there is no sickness and pain… maybe only a little dust to disturb the perfect scene. I know life is not meant to be perfect but, just for a short time at least, can it be as beautiful as a miniature doll house room? Pretty please?
Learning the truth was hard
I never imagined such an outcome
Less than fifty and unable to work
Unable to do so much I loved
Depression has robbed me
Fibromyalgia has assaulted me
Anxiety cuts me in two
Fatigue wrecks my days
The diagnosis of cancer was easier
I fought it and won
This monster has too many heads
The hydra has me down for the count
Not even Hercules can save me now
The door slammed shut and I was alone.
What was supposed to last fifty years
ended in less than twenty –
with broken hearts,
lots of tears
and empty bottles everywhere.
The vodka won in the end,
tearing our family apart
and taking him away
from this world far too soon.
via Daily Prompts … Jeopardize
what do you do
when your world is torn in two,
when a new life calls
threatening the one you have?
what do you do
when your heart is breaking?
what do you do
when it beats for two?
what do I do,
I love him so.
what do I do,
I love him too.
The daily prompt of youth has me stumped. I have thrown words around for a poem. Tried to draw on the good and bad of my childhood. And even looking to a child of war in the news this week. The backspace won on all those issues. Youth, especially mine, is not an easy subject for me.
I was shy… so much so even a trip to visit grandparents, aunts and uncles I saw only twice a year would see me become extremely withdrawn. I think now looking back on it, it may have been early signs of my anxiety disorder showing through. I would hide behind my parents and have to be persuaded to speak. One on one would take at least a full day before I would open up much.
Being the shy kid at school also had its effects. I had few friends and would be picked last for team play in gym. I would always get marks on my report card to speak up and join in more. I just couldn’t, I was too terrified to be wrong. I was convinced the entire class would laugh at me. I hated reading time when we took turns reading out loud as I would stumble on words and usually hear at least one snicker in the classroom.
Just writing about the memories I feel my chest tighten and a little of that fear return. But I know what it is now. I can safely go back and look at the pain with a little knowledge. It give me a little validation for how I felt back then. And to know all the times I heard people tell me to “just get over it” were wasted words and not something broken in me.
Remember not to push the next generation. At least now we have more of an understanding of anxiety and depression issues in children as well as adults. It is not something to be shy about. On my depression and anxiety I will not shy away from speaking the truth. I am getting help and know I am not alone. None of us are. (((HUGS)))
I worry I will never look into those eyes again
that warm hazel gaze of his
the almost sad look when he is tired
the joy dancing within when he smiles
I worry I will never touch his hand again
feel the comforting grip of a friend
know that I am cared about in that moment
feel the strength of his grasp
I worry I will never see his smile again
feel the positive outlook he shares
see the joy spread across the room from his laughter
the pure happiness he has in his life
I worry I will never stop this sorrow in me
the feeling of being forgotten
when all I can do is remember
the feelings of love I had…
I wish I had a good picture of the moon… my camera is not that good though. Last night my friend and I talked about how pretty the moon was as we went to dinner. If it wasn’t a full moon it was sure close. And why is it that is always looks so much bigger on the horizon than up above (I know, science and stuff right)?
People seem to be in love with the moon at times. Just look at how many songs have lovers under a moon. And it plays well in poetry setting a mood of romantic tones or even dark terror. But my favorite use of the moon goes back a few years and was unfortunately lost recently.
My ex-husband did a lot of video taping of our daughter as she grew up. Around the age of two she fell in love with the moon. We had a tape of her talking so fast about, “The moon, the moon, moon, moon, moon!” that would always bring a smile. Sadly when her dad passed away recently the DVD got overlooked and lost in the clean up. But I will always remember the wide-eyed innocence and excitement my little one had for the light in the sky each night.
I still point out the moon to her some nights, but at nearly 22 it does not have that new discovery affect it did when she was so young. It is nice to be able to look into the sky at night though and remember the wonders of childhood through the magic of her eyes. Keep your mind young… really notice the moon or the first star at night. Repeat the childhood rhyme of “Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight…” and make a wish. The magic may just still be there. (((HUGS)))
I used to take walks to release tension from the chaotic world I was in. One day I made the decision to take a camera with me as I found so many things along the trails beautiful. A few times I would escape the traffic of the city streets and take a short cut through a local cemetery to start my walk in quiet peace. This day the sun shining through the trees caught my attention, but the photo turned out even better than what I saw. The light refraction off the lens made beautiful ghosts among the tombstones. This was not long after my mom had died and it gave me a certain peace to see these spirits close to home. Remember those gone are never forgotten as they forever live in our hearts.
Imagine a path to a special freedom only nature can provide…it is there if you look for it.
Leigha Robbins 