Author: women who think too much

rtyu

I’m not sure what love is.

I tried to write what I knew about love and I didn’t come up with a very long list.

So, I’m going to tell you what I do know.

I know what love isn’t and what love doesn’t.

Love is not the flush you get from your head to your toes when you meet someone who sparks your pheromones. Walk away or get burned. That’s lust.

Love is not the tingle you get between your legs when you see Sam Elliott in white briefs. Again, lust.

Love is not orgasm after orgasm. You could get that from a stranger who triggered your pheromones. Lust, again.

Love doesn’t manipulate, control and lie.

Love doesn’t run away emotionally and physically when times are hard.

Love doesn’t throw family or friends away if they screw up.

Love doesn’t hold you down by convincing you that you can’t do anything…

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You Don’t Let Me

You let me cook
You let me clean
I wash our clothes
I sweep up my dreams.

You let me shop
You let me sew
I have it all
Computers, books and clothes.

You don’t let me
See how you feel
You don’t let me near
Any part of you that’s real.

You don’t let me
Close in our
King size bed
I rebel, but only inside my head.

You don’t let me
Love you
I don’t know why
I know one day, I won’t even try.

5-8-13

I collapsed on my bed the other night
After a long and difficult day.
I cried out to my heavenly Father
Why does it have to hurt this way?
My children rebel, scream and fight
As I try to lead the way.
As I sat there, worn and weary
Suddenly, I saw my Father’s pain
For I am his little child
And often slow to obey.
I thought of all the times
I was a rebellious child.
I ran away from you, my Father
Tried to do it my own way.
I felt your burden and then I knew
How small a cross I bear,
I only have three children, Lord
While your’s are everywhere.

January 29, 1987

Goodbye For Now Ms. Skeeter (Kita) March 26

There is never enough time to give all the love you have to anyone. There is never enough time.
I have loved this little dog with all my heart since the day we got her from the shelter in Orlando.
But somehow, it doesn’t feel like enough.
I want to give her more love before she goes, but we’re out of time.
There is never enough time.
Maybe that’s why God gave us dogs, so we could practice grieving the loss of what we love so much, so that when we lose people, we have already had a glimpse of what it’s going to feel like.
We already know what a broken heart is, before we are knocked out of our orbit by losing a person we love.
That’s the only reason I can think of why dogs have a short life, why they usually go before us.
I know God has an incredible plan and that we only see the knots on the back side of the tapestry.
I trust him with all my heart, but I wish letting go didn’t hurt so much.
I love this little girl beyond measure, and that’s why she’s crossing the rainbow bridge today, because I don’t want her to suffer anymore.
She has made me laugh, she has made me cry, she has made me want to pull my hair out. She has bit me when I tried to get my shoes, she has bit me when I tried to wipe her butt or Lord help me, when I tried to cut her toenails.
In the first three years, we went through three rug shampooers before we got her colitis under control and then had to replace all our rugs. We got her healthy, up to eight pounds and we just kept loving her. We saved her and she saved us.
I don’t regret one minute of her life.
She has kissed me good morning every day since the day we adopted her. She looks in my eyes and she sees my soul and I see her’s too.
She’s empathetic, she’s compassionate, and she’s a crazy hellion on four, little feet.
She’s Ms. Skeeter, a one of a kind and she’s my baby.
She was two years old when we adopted her. Just three pounds of wild, untrained energy.
People used to ask me what is that? Is that a dog? Some even thought she was a monkey.
I used to walk her and she’d run me around the park that we lived in, faster than I could go.
People used to laugh as we went by and ask, who’s walking who?
She was like a mosquito, buzzing around her brother, Puppy, and that’s how she got her name.
She’s fourteen now and for the last six months, diabetes has taken its toll.
We’ve had six months of extra time, but that time is up and as long as it’s in my power, I won’t let her suffer anymore.
Mom, I know you don’t really enjoy dogs, but if you could take care of her for me until I get there, I’d be very grateful.
Help her to find her brother, Puppy, and let her run free. She won’t be any trouble at all, unless you take off your shoes and try to pick them up, good luck with that.
Goodbye, Ms. Skeeter, just for now. Run free, and thank you for all the kisses.

Thank you to Dr. Robards and the staff at Eastside Animal Hospital for giving us the last six months and for their extremely compassionate care today.
Thank you to my daughter for taking Kita’s Last Ride with me. 💔💔💔
Also, thank you to my husband for spending thousands on Kita and on every dog we rescued.💔💔💔

Sisters…

Cracks

WALKICE

Standing on ice
watching the cracks
spread beneath her feet.
Swan dancing on ice
slipping and sliding.
A million more
cracks appear.
She keeps moving
until she stands in the
center of the frozen lake.
Fractured ice under her feet
no matter which step
she chooses to take.
She walks carefully.
She walks slow.
It’s so lonely.
It’s so cold.
Standing on ice…
watching the cracks
spread beneath her feet.

Tangles

For Jodie Lynne
Tangled in bonds forged by
Genetic matter blended
Knitted in the womb
Knots that cannot be untied
Ropes that were braided
On our creator’s loom
Lines that are unclear
Boundaries do not exist
Pain ultimately is shared
Young woman becomes
Woman with child
Child turned teen mother
Grandmother with babies
In her arms once more
Two women now
On opposite sides of
An open door
Her little girl only exists
In the mother’s mind
Bound by knotted love
Tangled in her
Daughter’s addictions
Living her own lies
The truth
Worse than fiction
Hearts ripped apart
By love that destroys
Always with the
Best intention.
The mother steps back
From the tornado
Of wrath and pain
Gut wrenching past
Today can’t restrain
Accused of coldness
As she slams the door
While in reality
She is burning with
Her daughter’s pain
Trying to
Avoid the disaster
Detangle shredded ties

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Beach Sunrise

The Cliff’s Edge

She walks
Along the cliff’s edge
Looking down.
Behind her
A ravine of lies,
And the man
She loves.
Shattered dreams
Are all she wears,
They are her only cover
From the icy rain.
He walks
Behind her,
Listening with her to
The waves, crashing below.
The thunder booms!
The lightning strikes!
The ground quakes!
She is afraid.
How could she dare to love?
He waits.
He cannot save her
His love sent her to the edge,
He cannot touch her
Or she will jump,
So he stays behind her.
She weighs the choices
While she plays with her life,
Balance a thing of the past
She walks along the cliff’s edge.

1989

Darkness

darkness
fits me
like a glove
vast waves of pain
and sorrow
searching, aching
for a sign
from up above
searching
for a reason
to face tomorrow
true disciple
straying from
the flock
no reason
to wake up
damn that
alarm clock.

1990

The Last Box

toolbox2
I didn’t realize that the last box would be the heaviest
not until I stumbled with it down what is now your drive.
Tears flowing unchecked were blocking my common sense.
Crying, remembering when our desire was alive.
Shoved the box in the van, slammed my door closed
then I checked the garage for things forgotten.
Taped to your toolbox, I saw your favorite picture of me
the one you promoted from your wallet
to the dashboard of your race car, a Vega, 1973.
My image inspired you as you raced
or so you used to say.
I guess the week you yanked me from the car
was the week you drove your Vega to first place.
The house looks deserted, the grounds unkempt and unloved.
Summer heat has burned the lilac bush and turned my roses brown.
Flowers struggle among the weeds, most have died, died to set me free.
The angel trumpets and morning glories alone proclaim
that once I touched the earth around your home with love.
I bend over to rescue the flowers setting dead in plastic pots,
and then I set them back down.
I can’t save what’s been killed with neglect, I know. I know. I’ve tried.
I knew what would happen when I stopped the watering that kept them alive.
I carried out the last box, tonight as the sun was going down
it was so much heavier than the first and
the weight really caught me by surprise.
I patted the morning glories goodbye, watered them with tears.
I climbed into my van, remembering your words the day you bought it.
As you handed me the keys, you softly said,
“There, now you can take all your stuff the next time that you decide to leave.”
I shifted into reverse, held down the brake and laid my head on the steering wheel to cry.
Crying because; still, I love you, crying for all that we lost.
The last box was the heaviest, so much heavier than the first
how could I have known that the last box
would weigh me down the worst?

1999

Fly Away

He flung the cage door open and shouted at the bird, fly away…
She shivered, and she shook and she fluttered her wings
when nothing happened she just called it a day.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll be free, is what she sings.
He covers the cage for the night with a smirk on his face,
Never even bothers to close the cage door.
He knows she will stay in place because he clipped her wings,
of that he is sure.

Slips of Paper

Thousands of slips
of paper
fall to the floor.
They’re just random
thoughts
she was thinking,
and they don’t mean
anything anymore.

Where Do We Go from Here?

Fifty years ago my older brother, Billy, came home and found me drunk out of my mind.
Billy, you made me walk the neighborhood, on a snowy night, kicking me in the butt every time I stopped.
You said you were gonna walk me sober. It would be another ten years before I stayed sober, but you gave it a damn, good try.
I remember crying and crying and as I sobered up, asking you, “Where do we go from here, where do we go from here?”
Big brother, you were my first hero.
Mom wrote in my baby book that when I was a year old, I followed you everywhere, pulling your hair and teasing you, wanting you to play with me. And you told her that it was okay.
“She thinks I’m her toy,” you told her.
You taught me to ride a bike when I was six, and you set me free at the top of the hill that I felt was a mountain, on Pratt Street, because you knew I was ready before I did.
You taught me to ice skate on the Shawsheen River, in spite of my fear, because I always knew I was safe with you. You would catch me before I hit the ground.
I was afraid of everything back then, but you always took my hand and shared your courage.
I don’t know why you were so brave and strong, living with a father who tried to crush you, but thank God he didn’t succeed, and you were my hero.
Me and Cherie and Suzanne will never forget the year you saved Christmas from Dad’s rage. You came and you even packed up our Christmas Tree and drove us all to your house.
You threatened my first love’s physical existence when he left bruises on my arms. He laughed about it afterwards, but he stopped grabbing and shoving me, at least until I married him. That one’s on me.
You saved my daughter and my grandsons on a really bad night, when you could have walked away.
You and I stayed close for so many years, and it was only in the last few years that we lost touch. I had a meltdown and I shut out most of the world and if you were a casualty of my depression, I’m sorry.
We just stopped calling each other.
Maybe we got lazy, maybe we just took each other for granted, maybe we just got old.
Maybe I thought you would always be there when I needed you.
Now, you are so sick that you can’t even hold your head up for more than a minute.
The doctor said two weeks to two months.
We faced-timed today and I watched your courage once more, as you struggled to talk, to think, to connect.
We reminisced about our trip around the old neighborhood on that snowy night so long ago.
“Where do we go from here? You kept asking me that,” you said.
“Well, I guess we’re there now,” I said.
Once more, your courage shines through as you prepare to leave this world behind.
I told you I’m putting you in God’s hands and you could like it or lump it.
“Go for it, ” you said. A few weeks ago, you would have given a different answer.
I will play with you in Heaven, dear brother. Save me a place in the family mansion.
You taught me so many things, but this…this is the hardest lesson of all.

To Jeanne, from Mum 1987

My mother, Grace, wrote this poem for me after she read about fifty of my poems for the first time.

Time

An old woman
Sits by herself,
Staring at her past
Arranged on a shelf.
Time is money
Or so they say,
Time stands still
Then slips away.
A baby is born
His first sound
An angry cry.
A rose in bloom
is ready to die.
Time waits for no one
Then it just marches on,
It goes by too fast
Then it takes too long.

Love Erased

Am I holding on or am I letting go?
I can’t tell anymore.
There is no roadmap back to
where I used to know.
Now that you’re gone, it seems…
I’m mostly missing the woman
love erased, she, who used to be.
I feel shards of her remaining
I just can’t seem to find the glue,
did it perhaps slip into your suitcase
and fly out of my reach with you?

Ice

by Grace Christine Doucette (My mom)

It’s cold in New England, ice is King
The flowers are sleeping, waiting for spring.
In my heart, memories are deep
Waiting for old promises to keep.
I planted seeds of love early in life
They’re not dead, buried by strife.
Just waiting for the big thaw when
I’ll see blossoms as never before.
The rose in a grandchild’s smile
The bloom in a hug that stretches a mile.
Yes, my seeds have sprung into life
And bloomed in my garden
Through all the icy strife.
Life goes on, it never will end
When you plant your seeds
In the heart’s of your children and friends.

Catching Sunsets While The Moon Watches

Follow Me…I See Pink Michelle Marie

Now She Has The Time…

Now, She Has the Time
by Grace Christine Doucette

Mother, I wanted to visit you today
But I was too busy,
other things got in the way.
I knew you’d understand and not complain
You never want to put me under a strain.
So, my days slipped by without seeing you
But, I knew you were there, in plain view.
Now, I have the chance
to come spend time with you
But you’re not here. “Mum, where are you?”
God had the time so he took you away
To sit and talk to Him and quietly pray.
He fills your time with companionship
That I unaware, had slowly let slip.
I missed seeing your smile
and feeling your loving touch
And I forgot to say, “I love you so much.”
Now I have the time, “Mum, where are you?”

Inside Out

Inside Out

Caught the moon…

Moon Me

Pink Wall

Pink Wall