Continual Resort -|’Back to Life’

I guess that this is the making of a chapter, a part 2, or something else…I’m not sure how all of this will turn out but I will continue with it as I am able. Anyway, I used Kellie Elmore’s word bank from her Free Write Friday prompt from last week to help me out…thanks Kellie! ❤

‘Back to Life’… the next scene from an earlier post Continual Resort.

At first sight of his reality, Donny Robertson came to, finding himself standing dumbfounded in his kitchen with a look and brief feeling of disbelief at Linda who was huddled on the floor glaring up at him in anger, but strangely with no fear – no tears. Slowly she raised herself from the floor and defiantly uttered, “Well, I guess you feel better now huh?” Her statement brought on a sense of knowing that swathed him like a blanket as he realized what had just happened and why. It was yet again another blackout that had followed one of his outbursts of anger that seemed to overtake him from time to time though not often. He had ignored what he called his ‘fits’ because usually after it happened, there was no real memory of the cause and surely not the effect of them. “Damn!” The guilt that he now felt overrode his surprise of the realization that this was the first time that he had ever gone this far. He had never hit her no matter what. That is what he had been taught all of his life, but somehow what he had vowed to never do had crept its way into his life – he thought – without warning. “How could I have known that I would one day hit this bitch?” He questioned himself as if some other entity accompanied them at that time, but he knew that it was actually his own mind and conscience who had been the author of his questions, confusion, and actions. He was truly sorry for what he had done, but when he apologized (knowing that this was his system of survival at home with Linda, but with no one and nowhere else), Linda rubbed her cheek, still holding a light burn where she had been slapped. “Don’t worry…it’ll come back to you later.” With a calm demeanor, Linda casually walked off to lock herself into their bedroom, grabbed the remote, and flicked the television on to her favorite drama series.

Standing there alone in the kitchen, Donny immediately reached up to open the top right cabinet door to grab the bottle of vodka and his glass. “A good screwdriver will clear my head…yeah, right!” he thought to himself as he reached into the refrigerator for the orange juice. Overtaken by cumbersome mobility, Donny set his glass on the counter with shaking hands, but with each clink of ice to glass, he felt more comfortable with himself; especially once that first swallow made its way down the hatch. He needed to calm down, he needed his hands to stop shaking, he desperately needed to admit that he had ultimately fucked up royally this time. Upon gathering his ‘needs’ collectively in his mind, he knew that two out of three wouldn’t be so bad after having the same number of drinks. 

Finding comfort in the relaxed state that he was now in while still sipping and watching the sports channel, Donny knew that his last need would take a lot of work to get himself ‘right’. The problem was that he just didn’t know what it was that needed to be done about it, but not slapping the shit out of his girlfriend would probably help. “But, how can that happen when I can’t let go of what she did?, Where dey do dat at?” Swinging his past shoulder length dreds where they could all fall to his  back, Donny lifted his backside off of the worn sofa while still holding his half empty (half full) glass to reach into the pocket of his rough-dried jeans for a large rubber band. He had collected several of them from various dollar stores along with gathering them from his father’s newspaper subscription. It didn’t matter as long as he acquired the look that he wanted while also moving the hair out-of-the-way. “Moving shit out-of-the-way and still being fab rocks.” With the first glass finished, Donny returned to his kitchen and proceeded to make another screwdriver.

Meanwhile:

Linda was getting high. With a light cough she told herself, “Ahh, pleasantly relaxed again, hehe!” As she reached over to the nightstand for her pair of tweezers, she clamped the short of the marijuana cigarette so that she could savor the last puffs that remained.  Texting back and forth to her sister about the show only added to the funniness of their conversation which was full of mutual laughter. Her older sister had been through thick and thin with Linda.  The trailer park that they had lived in growing up had been their home as well as their worst nightmare, but that didn’t matter now – for once. “Girl, did you see that? Aaahaha! These people are so fucked up that it makes me feel like I’m not so bad after all!” “I know, right sis?” “Yeah girl, you would think that rich folks would act like they had better sense, but apparently you can take the bitch outta the ghetto, but you can’t take the ghetto outta tha bitch.” Linda burst into laughter loudly with her sister while in both the back of their minds, images of their past lay dormant despite its presence… each of them playing their own starring roles as if in a  best-selling cinema piece, but residing in the back of their minds…the presence danced menacingly…silently.

When Linda and her sister were done with their conversation about the series, she lay herself back on the bed…her mind went to the incident that had occurred with Donny, “Dude, get it together, it is what it is – ugh!” She nonchalantly turned on her side and fell into a liquor with hemp induced sleep. Moving images slipped through her psyche similar to one who held too much change in the palm of their hand as one lone coin managed to slip through the fingers of the holder…the sound of the series of pinging spins before lying perfectly still lulled Linda into a slumber filled with darkness without real dreams. There would be no valid thoughts or philosophies when she awoke…she would simply become conscious to greet the day ahead.

I AM SO GLAD TO HAVE FINALLY GOTTEN THIS DONE! I NOW FEEL THAT I CAN PROGRESS WITH THIS NOW, YAY!!!

Okay, it has been a while (about two weeks) since I have posted anything. In all honesty, I have dealt with some health issues and in the midst of that, my mind has been in a bit of a whirl spin. The only comfort that I have found has been to read the blogs that I follow as well as blogs that I have found because of the wonderful writers who daily lead me into another world straight from my WordPress Reader. There are so many other writers that I follow that have blown my mind with what they have and are still expressing on their blogs that I can’t even explain how you guys inspire me, but I hope that what I write will give you an inkling of an idea of how much I look forward to waking up each morning to log in to my reader.

I have learned so much from reading the work of Ms. Elmore and so many other bloggers here that I am not able to post every link that I would like to refer to, but as time moves on, I will get better at this tech savvy stuff. In the meantime, I hope that you enjoyed reading ‘Back to LIfe’. It was suggested by a fellow blogger that I continue with the story that I started 2 weeks ago, so I really appreciate that suggestion because it has put me in a place to break through yet another shell.

Thanks for reading!

 

Aside

Free Write Friday|Kellie Elmore – Continual Resort

I have so enjoyed everyone’s short stories from last week’s Free Write Friday|Kellie Elmore’s prompt that I decided to try the free style short story bit out, but couldn’t resist the urge to rhyme so here is a mixture of the two!

Continual Resort

The sound of the rustle of tall weeds awoke him as his eyes opened to a rolling cloud filled with dust which signified the immediate misery that assailed his thoughts upon becoming coherent of his new surroundings. He knew exactly where he was…alone…again. In an attempt to breathe in a sigh of usual acceptance due to the state of his current solitary existence, the humidity in the air stifled the process of inhalation, howbeit; at a relieving exhale, that feeling of deliverance returned as always.

“Well, this is a new one for me…

never thought that here is where I would find myself to be…”

He could feel thick patches of dirt sticking to his back as he raised himself up on one elbow to be still just before sitting up; legs outstretched in front of his weary body. Flailing one hand at his back to knock off the dirt, he noticed that his bare legs had practically baked under the heat of the sun. The smell of his own souring sweat filled extremely dry nostrils, and as if involuntarily, one hand reached up to pick strands of burnt grass – also causing even more grains of dirt to fall from the stickiness of his hair which was now matted with heat, sweat, and natural products of the elements. No birds flew or sang happily overhead as he again raised his eyes to the sky only to be blinded yet comforted by the sun and its brief incapacitating power of causing him to not be able to see what was in front of him. He did not want to see…neither did he want to feel anything now save the heat that seared his skin and the discomfort of the thickness of the hot and lonely atmosphere in this place.

“No pain, no gain

I guess that I should be content, 

but it would be nice to have a little rain.”

Just after this thought escaped his enclosed mind, the long and dusty billowing cloud opened ever so slightly to release a slow pattern of warm to lukewarm raindrops that without warning turned into a tepid downpour; washing away all that previously adhered. This refreshing coolness rejuvenated and strengthened him enough to where he was able to place himself on all fours in order raise momentarily on his knees. At a quick glance at the ground upon becoming upright was when he was struck with the realization that not a stitch of clothing covered his bare, sunburned, and now not so dirty body. The earlier happenings before his arrival here must have been a real doozy, but in this moment – the past did not matter regardless of how late whatever had happened not long ago entailed. His immediate assumption was that his nakedness must have meant that he had succeeded in another escape from an insurmountable pain to which there was no choice but to be catapulted into some other realm in order to keep from totally losing it. He could actually feel the freedom that he so desperately needed to survive and under the welcomed, rainy torrent – feeling stronger now and with outstretched arms, he belted out a solemn sincere prayer under roaring thunder to whomever – be it himself or another who had been the author of his prompt escape from confusion…

“Oooohhh, thank you – I SO needed this,

I have been cleansed – could this be bliss?

Whatever it was, it is now gone,

Though I am alone – my strength is damn strong –

But still, not damned to a living of NO;

Through You – I’ll always have somewhere to go!

Why should I care if it’s there or in this crazy place?

As long as I return while able to save face!”

It seemed as if it had never happened when the rain, wind, thunder at the same time suddenly stopped! All that was left from this particular episode of subconsciously self-endorsed elopement was to the right of him, a small puddle in which he could see his reflection at first sight of turning to look into it. Peering into this nature induced impromptu mirror revealed the faces of an obedient yet mischievous child that morphed into a rebellious but depressed, hurting but creative teen, which finally evolved into the gift, artist, poet, victim, philosopher, warrior, and then – the monster! Not much to his surprise, these changes came in that exact order although he was well aware that each image shown on the water was a true replica of the many facets of himself. Though slightly perturbed at the monstrous side of his reflection, he was still aware that it had been born from his past as well as his presence of which he was at the moment – totally free from. He completely refused to give up this feeling of self-vindication from past woes despite the fact that this rebellious and retaliatory presence was prominent. Now deep in thought at the possibility of the necessity to find a way to cancel out the monster, he suddenly became viciously irate at himself for not having an inkling of an idea of how to go about this much-needed process. He prayed again:

“This must be the calm that comes after the storm,

Why do I see myself as anything but the norm?

Will I ever reach the heart of my true self that was meant?

Or should I just waste the rest of my time not well spent?

Why is the hate so strong –

So prominent in my life?

Could it be from having no mother – no wife?

Regardless, this is not who I truly should be…

My time shall forever be spent finding me.”

With a sense of relief, he stood in full stance…the birds began to fly and sing, a cool breeze made the tall weeds dance.

The dusty cloud now clean split apart revealing blue skies…it’s bright colors drowning out past woes – inner cries.

Taking in a long deep breath from clean air physically and mentally soothed;

Giving new light to a better outlook and the strength to not be moved,

By the pain of abandonment felt by a boy suffering from rejection;

The presence of the man having slaughtered the monster created from constant dejection.

Now exhausted from this journey, he lay himself down and fell into a deep sleep

Covered in tall weeds that made a soft bed temporarily for fresh dreams to keep.

He did not worry at all about his eventual return;

To life where truths hurt and harsh realities burned.

He knew that to continue was the plan to survive;

Knowing that there would always be a continual resort whenever hard times arrived.

 

 

 

It took me a while, but this was truly a blast, thanks to Kellie Elmore rocking the FWF!! 🙂

Aside

A Different Post

I made a deal last week with my daughter (12) that if she made a video of herself singing that I would cut her usual 3 weeks of study before the first day of school down to one week. I am well aware that I will have to convince her in some type of way to get her to do another one but for now, she was happy about this particular deal, so here is the finished product!

 

The Blazing Stone

At first, I found writing for my uncle a bit challenging as I was never that crazy about him and he has always and still is a force to be reckoned with, although there is still respect between us. I had to think long and hard about how I would be able to create something decent for someone who was never my favorite person, but the fact that he is hurting now helped me in deciding to do a ‘story’ styled poem that would describe his strong character by referring to related concepts. As I began to write, I actually got into it, so here goes:

The Blazing Stone


Zealous roads we tread, lasting long, leading to Nowhere

Until we reached the land of Together

A stretch of land where flowers grew and clean was the air

I looked out of our kitchen window and noticed a blazing stone

The smokescreen from it formed words saying,

“Through it all, you will never be alone.”


Our white picket fence stood in rich soil which plentifully produced fruit

From our labor together – yet alone

In a busy city swarming with blue ties, white shirts, and black suits

…and the flame grew, blazing still

You saw it too

It gave us both chills…

While prejudice flew like bees in summer, we still stayed with the times

Despite all that came against us together – with them

It was an era when harsh truths were designed

Fighting for our rights was a daily and long-drawn game

That we won together – with many

Who lived and died for the cause until we overcame

This struggle was done, so we looked to check our flame again

There was no blaze but the smokescreen read,

“It is not over – next time hold hands.”

Many happy years went by but with a few ups and downs

That didn’t really matter because

We were together, and you were always around

But we were content with life as it was despite a very hard past

Living for ourselves – together

Must be the way to make it last

But seemingly all of a sudden our world began to change

The downs grew much larger

And the ups began to wane

The day that pain and heartache came knocking on our door

I saw our flame rise much higher

Than it ever had been before

“Take her hand now!” It said, just as you drifted away

How will I make it now?”

This was all that I could say.

I ran to the blazing stone in search of an answer in truth

No smokescreen to read, but a voice said,

“Remember the days of your youth!…

This flame will blaze continually, as a monumental fire

you are not alone for there is one who will care until you retire

I will still stand high and shine, you can run to me and stand…

being sure of your destination leading to the Land of Together again!”

 

Aside

One

I have a funeral to go to today. One of my mom’s sisters passed away and she only had one child (adult). I wrote two poems – for the daughter and one for the husband. The second poem (for husband) will be in the next post.

 

One

How marvelous it truly is, but I don’t yet understand why

How one can simultaneously live when they have naturally died

I find it especially uncanny that another life still goes on

When the other one has ceased and there’s no more right or wrong

After having rode the cycle of life traveling in and out of forever

One continually comes and goes regardless of the weather

As I reminisce on past times of how my life began and grew

Being the only one chosen to be given life directly through you

These thoughts are but a glimpse now, but oh how I yearn

To grasp the whole concept of how one table can turn

In me caring for you just as you did for me

My one lone question is how can this possibly be

How can one day be life and yet the next one death

One soul is set free while the other one is left

Alone to be bathed in darkness until with mercy the sun shines again

Shedding light on a lasting truth that you are my one best friend

Though you are not here to say so, I’m sure that you agree

That where you are right now is where one should aspire to be

Knowing this fills me with hope, surely it will sustain me until

I too have ridden that cycle and one Lord does His very will

But for now though my heart is heavy and my eyes are filled with tears

I shall cherish one love provided for me which lasted for many a year

I can say now that I understand how a life still moves when it is done

It is all because of Grace given to us all freely by One.

Aside

What the Race Revealed

The sun shone brightly on the heart of a lonely one yesterday

A fresh and new outlook brought yearnings for an enduring full life’s stay

Without traveling back to the pain of a past not long ago

Encircled by the demon of No’s induced thoughts tossing the soul to and fro

But at this time my private wind now chooses its own content and patient path

Straying away from downtrodden confusion, negative influence, and ultimate wrath

Peeking through a single cloud’s cover – maintaining my own acceptable pace

Staying the course through thick humidity – so determined to win the race

The finishing line is near, subsequent to the obstacle course

That stands eminently and taunting – yet  helps me to find the source

Of what initially caused me to cave in and suffer an exhausted fail

Purged is an oppressed tribe of strength…stoically refusing to ail

From diseased differentiation, status quo, isolation and offensive pull

That wolf cannot fool me now, for I can identify his wiry wool

Though I run along – alone – my view is now perfectly clear

Until my winds begin to blow stronger…explaining my true purpose here

Which is to be a light…beaming towards another lone  dying heart

Nurturing humanity and love – we all must do our given part

To find ourselves running the shining path together – never again alone

For all our destinations surely lead to the very same  sought out home

Abiding well in understanding, clarity and peace – truth –  not hard to obtain

As long as we live to give –  as opposed to a life of selfish gain

While rain falls, floods rise and brittle hail breaks the soul of the lonely one

Who runs alone – yet with many the path…til at last the race is won!

We all have our flaws, fears, and inhibitions. I truly believe that these three work together to feed the starving artist in us all, and our various manner of expression touches the hearts of those akin to the cause.

Thanks for reading!

Aside

Self-Menace

Standing disoriented in the middle of nowhere

Wishing that I had been available for someone – anyone to care

But as I stand in wherever I know that I am alone

Having no place to truly call friendly – except mostly in my home

Because of my actions accompanied by a bad attitude

Not realizing the hurt of others while my disdain exudes

Negativity

I can’t see the forest for that giant tree

It seems to enjoy taunting…intimidating me

So much that I beg to be free

From the pain that I cause and the pain that I feel

Should my life move on now or forever be still

Will there ever by some miracle come another day

When forgiveness finally sinks in and ultimately makes its way

Into the hearts of the broken…retaliatory yet strong but not mean

Will we ever be witness to the real or just an idea of what it seems

To be in the now at a moment not captured in time

Shall I grotesquely err, or ultimately fall in line

With the mentality and routine of the judgemental masses

Or shall I  obediently remain under the category of asses

Who cannot find or refuse to search out or travel their own winding path

Is it really us or them – somebody please do the math

Because I am stuck between a rock and a very hard place

In fear of revealing the shape of my body or the shame on my face

Due to the absence of ample self-esteem

Thinking that only therapists and patients understand what I mean

Deep down and in truth I embrace the better for sure

Knowing that it is solely my mind’s life – the victor holding the cure

For what I subconsciously dive headlong and choose to delve in

Sometimes it seems easier than fighting, pressing, and struggling to win

But putting all aside and being honest with myself

I find no importance in high status, pedigree or wealth

Happiness and peace are my true main goals

As my heart aches silently while sanity unfolds

Despite it all, I press on for a brighter day

Rolling with the punches – hearing my self say

It could be worse so be thankful for how it is

The self-menace quietly bears the load but freely opts in and still gives.

 

I’m not sure where this came from – it just came out, but in hopes that you will be inspired by this or some other, keep on in whatever you do!

Thanks for reading.

 

 

 

Aside

The Wayfarers Foundation – A Hopeful Amendment

I came up with this title around a week or more before I was actually able to get my thoughts together for it today. It was inspired by one of Kellie Elmore’s Free Write Friday prompts, also ckisler’s Braking Points blog – post – Homelessness in Galilee and USA Luke 8:26-39.

In Memphis, the homeless situation is profound, but it seems to be ignored which really bothers me in a big way.

While my father was in the VA working very hard to recover from his first stroke. Several years later with the second stroke, he wound up in the same facility, but things were worse than the first time. I was faced with riding to and fro (with my husband, mom, and very young daughter) for visits that hurt my heart.

What hurt even more was knowing that I had survived these visits only to be more hurt by the man at the corner of the intersection, accompanied by a sign that read, ‘Help me, I am a veteran.’

Every day on the way and back from visits with my dad, I would see this man in the same spot with the same sign and wearing the same coat. Unshaven, hot, and uncomfortable in the worst way, and apparently unrecognized as important, because traffic – as if in a recurring dream, constantly passed by with no stops for me to witness or take part in any sort of grand attempt to take this man from where he was to where he needed to be.

Somehow I knew he was surviving somehow, but my mind could not fathom this possibility in a realistic way because – he was still there…every day, just as my father was in that hospital bed…every day with hopes of coming home to put finishing touches on his recovery which did  happen with the first stroke, not so much with the second, but a recovery non-the-less.

The fact is that my dad had somewhere to go, which was the house that he had and was still dearly paying for. But the veteran on the corner who had also served his country was left outside to abide the elements, traffic, and who knows what else for twenty-four hours a day – each day of his life.

Is he still there today, or has he gone on to a place where he need not worry about an ideal place for him to live in? I know not as this man and his unfortunate lifestyle is considered a negatively superfluous extension of our city and it was several years ago when I was visiting my ailing father in the VA.

What struck me more than the question of why I never saw anyone stop (including myself although I thought about it with no real helpful scenario to follow up with) was why the man couldn’t simply walk that one block to the VA for help. We eventually passed the veteran by one last time on the day we brought my father home, and I was overwhelmed with an undying sense of chagrin. With reluctant acceptance, I knew that while that building stood where and as it was, it – just as well as I had miserably failed that man.

Despite understanding that the VA was a hospital and not a shelter, I still viewed the homeless hero’s sidewalk station as an undeniable display of the actual ‘aide’ that any given veteran may receive following his/her signed and sealed service.

Years later, this man is still on my mind.

 

Several years later…

 

My family (husband and now 3 kids) and I were on our way home from church (which I no longer attend now but also question on the same level as organized facilities such as the VA etc.) and we saw a family of about seven crossing the street at the old end of Bellevue Blvd which becomes Elvis Presley Blvd once you pass the intersection.

The mom, dad, and about five small children were making their way across this very busy area…the mother making sure her children held hands tightly while in step with each other as they carefully made their trek from one side of the street to the other. Holding a smaller child’s hand and carrying a bag of snacks in the other with the smallest child on her hip, I could plainly see caution and fear on their faces. The father, protector, and head of his unfortunate family walked in front, playing the role of shield. His defensive attitude was obvious as he valiantly led his family from point A to B, and they made it. I had no idea where they were going, but I did know that the small bag of snacks they had just purchased with what little they had would not be enough to fill either of their bellies.

I saw them again last week in the same area, but this time they were washing cars in the lot of a restaurant that has been closed down for some 3-5 odd years, but the father looked as if he were on a cell phone (probably borrowing from the client), hopefully talking to a new customer. Maybe he was speaking to someone about finding somewhere to live, but his body language showed that the conversation was not going well. I saw nothing but desperation, frustration, and hopelessness.

No one asks for this.

That family has been on my mind since the first day that I saw them crossing the street that day. Seeing them as well as the homeless veteran and so many others that we pass by every day reminded me of  a dream (a hope for the future) that my mother and I had in common. Today, this hope has become quite urgent in my thoughts since her passing. She often talked about starting some type of self-organized foundation for feeding/helping the homeless as she was an excellent cook and all of her daughters would use what we learned from her to make her dream come true.  Although my parents participated in several charitable organizations that were big on feeding and helping homeless people, she still had the urge to do something on a personal level, but her dream was unfortunately not lived out as she succumbed to an inherited family history of silent killers.

This dream that my mother had still lives with me today and I am determined to act on it.  Although I am limited in what I really want to do later, I still give when I can, haphazardly and random as it may be. For now, I will simply have to settle for what works in the now. But if by some miracle, sudden stroke of luck, perseverance, or whatever it is that will make it happen, I know what I want to do with my life. If I am able to make another life better, my living will not have been in vain.

In the meantime, I come from the heart (as usual) with this poem called:

The Wayfarers Foundation

Many scores lasting forever and many years to date

We the ‘eyesore’ have been forced to patiently suffer and wait

For some action to be taken…shall more of you awaken

To the fact that our living quarters called ‘homes’ have been taken

In the midst of a dwindling and eroding economy

Do we seriously need to question the severe lack of money

Despite being a member of the land of the free and home of the brave

It should matter not my choice of which service I gave

The potential to lose my comfort or ability – namely my very life

Yet my bedroom is a cardboard box regardless of the weather every night

What about those of us who were simply dealt a bad hand

Booted from common livelihoods, now unable to lease a piece of land

Higher authorities casually ignore us

While inaction and self-piety beget more of us

Is there no law written

For the ones who have been smitten

By the force of abiding at the lowest grade

Possessing the need to find elms for mere shade

Are we not deserving of hand-built roofs also

Shall it be called justice as we travel to and fro

On pavement and gravel alike, even dirt roads to nowhere

Our destinations far beyond us just as our very welfare

As we the wayfarers are deemed non-contributers of supply and demand

Our miniscule supply is depleted while the latter still stands

It is unfortunate that holiday charities do not very long last

In order to satiate our hunger and lack once that time has passed

We set up quarters of blankets,various leftovers and if lucky – tents

In places that are public –  where privacy is not meant

To be obtained in weather such as heat, snow and rain

Our candles go out just as we do much the same

But we the ‘eyesore’ come strongly together as one

As a whole people working endlessly to get something done

For the betterment of The States which is sadly and sorely due

If nothing changes, this could happen even to the most wealthy of you

As a union we stand yet divided according to place

We ask to be rationed daily resources with which to wipe dirt from our children’s face

In order to be presentable as we stand before the great panels of our nation

To plead our God-given rights in the name of The Wayfarers Foundation!

Choosing Happy Memories on Father’s Day – Part II

Choosing Happy Memories on Father’s Day – Part 2

Soooo, I checked my mirrors while still head-bobbing to the beat of whatever was playing. I could feel the bass vibrations as the reflection of my dad showed his calm yet attentive stance, arms folded, head shaking in a slow ‘no’  motion.

It was that familiar expression he always gave while watching someone being hell-bent and determined to make a valuable accomplishment by way of being stupid due to ignoring mentoring advice from a wiser source.

I was happy…excited even and ready to make my move backwards into the same parking space that had somehow in the span of about an hour become  a major challenge for my seventeen-year-old at-that-very-moment-happy-go-lucky-as-hell self. I knew that I could do it.

Despite the warning signal of the ‘no’ from my dad, I was ready and willing to succeed, so I hit the gas pedal ever so slightly and began to make my way in between the two lines indicating that I had indeed positioned myself correctly.

I pressed down a little more on the gas (music still bumping) and I thought that I heard something like a bump so I naturally assumed that I had hit the darned walkway again.

No problem…Im in straight, so all I need to do is pull up just a little bit, but to be sure that Daddy knows that I know what I’m doing, I’ll just do it over again.

I was not phased by a long-shot. Nothing could stop me now, because I really did know what I was doing…I just had to prove it this time!

Mirrors checked – I know where I am…my brain is now ready to send necessary signals for the purpose of coordination strategies as I have pulled all the way out of the space just to show what I have learned.

I reverse again and proceed back and whip the car (not a brand new one THANK GOD!) back into the parking space perfectly this time…windows still vibrating…I had done it! I even moved a little faster this time because I knew that my positioning was on point! “Whooooo!”

I looked into my side mirror in search of a thumbs up from my dad only to have the exhilarated exclamation upon my success instantly turn into worried curiosity! Where was he?

Maybe he went to take a pee around back, but to be sure,  I looked into the rear view mirror and then the passenger side mirror which is when the horror began. He was on his hands and knees with his head hung down looking so helpless – SHHHHIT!!! I had run my dad DOWN!

I put the car in park and flung the door open to run to him as he fell over onto his side and rolled over on his back with one arm holding his mid-section and the other arm flailing haphazardly with no specific determination.

I bent over him as my inner self exclaimed approximately five OMG’s in a row at lightening speed just before I asked if he was okay. He said nothing – only rolling from one side to the other with some type of wincing expression on his face that I had never seen…he was in pain!

I didn’t know what to do as the days of cell phones had not yet arrived and I thought about driving somewhere to get help, but that would take too long.

My heart was beating so fast that I thought I would collapse right beside him, but I had to keep my composure and get him to say something. “Daddy! Please say something! I’m so sorry I hit you, but please get up!”

The flailing hand began to wave a stopping motion and he finally spoke to me saying, “Please, Please! Stop talking! I’m not hurt but – ” “But Daddy, I hit you, and if I don’t get some kind of help you’re gonna die!!”

I was in tears and so was he, but somehow he was able to reply, “Yea child, I am dying but not because you hit me, I’m laughing myself to death! – Look over there!” He pointed in the direction where the driving center’s garbage dumpsters were.

There were two of them, and they were crushed between the wall of the building and…

my car.

The music was still playing – loudly.

I was confused now. All coordination and fearless indignation aside, I asked my dad once again if he was sure that he was all right.

He begged me yet again to not say anything because if I didn’t stop it, he would surely die right there and he didn’t want me to have to drive home. I could clearly see now that he was overcome by a serious bout of uncontrollable laughter to the point of tears and a stomach ache which was obvious by him having to speak to me between catching a much-needed breath.

“How in the world did you do that?” He had managed to get back on his knees in hopes of getting up when I asked, “Do what?” The laughing started again in the midst of a quick but earnest prayer for the Lord to please send him some help to get off of the ground.

I’m guessing that a light bulb must have popped on at some point and I helped my dad up, but he just had to do an impromptu ‘show and tell’ of my little mishap. “I ain’t never seen nothin’ like that in all of my years, and you did it twice! Just look at what you did to these folks stuff!”

I really looked this time and reality began to set in for me then as Daddy explained how I had backed into the dumpsters, pulled up, and ran into them yet again only harder the second time.

After putting the poor innocent bystanders who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time during my plight back where they belonged, now battered and bruised, we made it back to the car and my father of course insisted that he drive home while still laughing and catching his breath. “Well, I thought I heard a little bump at one time…” I tried to explain, but he would have none of it.

He stressed his wishes of me not saying anything more on the way home so that there would be no more accidents and that it would also be wise if I would refrain from iterating this unfortunate incident to anyone that I intended to take for a ride in the future. “I knew you should’ve turned that mess down, but I had to let you do it your way and now you know better don’t you. Just talk to your momma about it, but other than that, this will be our little secret…”

“Okay daddy…our little secret.”

We both wiped tears of laughter from our faces, he turned the radio to a gospel station – “For safety purposes,” he said jokingly, and we were on our way home.

Once there, the laughing began again – me, Momma, and Daddy…we all agreed that I need not broadcast the story until much later once my ‘attention skills’ had improved.

That day, my dad told me that he had never laughed that hard before in his entire life and that I never had to worry about giving him a Father’s Day gift, because that day would last forever.

Now that I have written this post, I can’t help but imagine him, my mom and their best friends with them in Paradise…cracking their sides laughing right now.

I am glad that I chose happy memories today, and I hope that all readers can celebrate this day with love and much laughter.

Thanks for reading!

Aside

The Roof…

Several days have gone by and I have not been able to think of anything to write. I have looked at some prompts that held my interest, but I can’t seem to get my thoughts together on any of them right now. I don’t know why this happens to me so often and it is very disturbing to me that at times my mind is full of words and rhymes that seem to flow effortlessly while writing posts and at other times there is absolutely nothing. I can deal with going a day or two but when this ‘thing’ lasts for a week or more it really bothers me, so I decided to just start pecking on the keyboard to write about my thoughts on this issue of mine and maybe something decent will be borne from it.

As I am typing now I have absolutely no idea if I will end up with a poem or just a regular post, but today has been a bit foggy with everything that I tried to do around the house such as putting a chicken in the oven and completely forgetting about it. The fact that my sense of smell is not so keen does not help much when my short-term memory is compromised along with my foggy overall thinking on days like these. It was the kids who informed me that I needed to check dinner because it had ‘been in there too long’ just before my husband came in from work exclaiming the same and of course, I smoothed things over by explaining to my hungry family that the chicken did not burn in the oven, but that it was just a little too brown. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. I am glad to say that these incidents do not occur often, it’s just a tad too frequent for me as I piddle around – not disgusted or depressed but rather…slightly disenchanted. Needless to say, I will be very thankful when whatever it is has run its course and finally ends.

Despite my current temporary funk, the kids are still running around playing and joshing ever so loudly so all is still well other than the fact that my brain keeps drawing a big fat blank – the noise…I love and hate it all at the same time.

Meanwhile, here goes something…hopefully it will not turn out to be nothing.

For the record, my six-year-old just came in to tell me that he really enjoyed my wonderfully burnt chicken and that I am the best cook in the world. This either means that we really need to get out more, or the boy has an unnatural relationship with food that needs to be addressed immediately…maybe a little of both, but here goes:

My renewable solitude

Where I can be nice or even rude

Feelings stay in my pocket until I make them known

Yet they all understand when my symptoms are full-blown

Nights are too short but the days are long

I am constantly covered whether I’m right or wrong

I can think and say whatever I feel

I can perfectly cook or even burn a meal

Despite it all, I live with true love

Settled in this place like a hand in glove

My commitment here is worth more than gold

My intent is to stay put until at last I am old

No matter how rough or ragged the road

I shall make the best of my cozy, humble abode

Tranquil fantasies often blend in with my nightmares

Sleep deprived but well rested because someone cares

Good days and not – all are cherished the same

Mama and Wife are my first and last names

Though not necessarily do they come in that order

They maintain their presence when I reach that dreaded border

Of the last of my sanity – when at my wit’s end

Feeling abandoned – lacking family or friend

My quick fix is in the eyes of three loving brown pairs

I realize again why my life was spared

To see their smiles and be disturbed by happy noise

My reason for living is one girl and two boys

They love unconditionally when I can’t and when I can

I must give props to their dad – a hard-working man

Many a struggle has invaded and burst through our front door

But love and faith taught us what togetherness is for

I learn as I go while using what I was taught

I refuse to have had my folks go through all that trouble for naught

In spite of my imaginings, I embrace my today

Never trading out my years to live in  another way

This group never fails to succeed when my mind is aloof

In giving me in hopes of what’s in store for us under the same roof

Aside

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