As I went to put bobby pins in my hair today, I was caught up in the most amazing memory.
I’m looking in the mirror, and suddenly, I’m watching my mom roll her long, black hair around her finger and then, she uses a bobby pin to hold it in place. Although it is my face, my mom’s face reflects back at me and I smile. I feel eight years old, watching her, the way I did each night before bed for so many years.
Every night, my mom would put those bobby pins in her hair.
Dad, drunk, screaming and yelling, nothing stopped her, nothing he ever did stopped her.
My mum was an amazing, strong and beautiful woman.
She just sat there in her own little space and rolled up her hair.
What a bitter-sweet memory simple, little bobby pins brought to me today.
“I am so proud of you Mum, even more now that I am older, because I have been to war too. Now, I know how hard you had to fight. I have fought the codependency battles. Your unconditional love and your strengths made me stronger. I love you and I miss you everyday.”
Above the clouds
the sun is
with yellow streaks
and puffy pink wisps.
Moving, reshaping, shifting
blending to form images
never the same.
I want to be a cloud.
when I was down for the count
you never gave up on me
you always reached for my hand
offering to set my spirit free
when grief shoved every one away
you loved me with no conditions
and you never left my side
loving me with no exceptions
i fell into a well, dark and deep
there was no rope to be found
you lifted me out and calmly
set me back on solid ground
you whispered, you don’t need that
when I used drugs to numb the pain
my child just set that down
and you washed me clean with rain
on the darkest days you colored
pink behind the black clouds
you covered me in your grace
your love infinite, it has no bounds
you knew what was best for me
sad when I embraced the worst
you promised me i was loved
when all i felt was cursed
when I screamed, I cannot make it
i heard you whisper, yes my child you can
open your heart and reach out for me
oh child, please just take my hand
despite the days and nights I wasted
you simply gave me more
gently laying your hand upon my head
while i kicked and screamed on the floor
i never would have made it
without you holding on to me
stubborn child i placed myself in chains
a prisoner of self until you set me free
Mine would be working in the nursery with the babies and the little ones, rocking them all night until the sun came up…
Having my morning coffee with my children and my grandchildren, hoping that they would know by the breeze that ruffled their hair that I was close by.
Visiting my sisters, dropping in on my friends, blessing them with rain drops and rainbows. Checking in on my honey at bedtime, to tuck him in and make sure that he is doing okay.
Wandering through fields and fields and fields of flowers, while the sun played
peek-a-boo with the clouds.
Standing underneath a summer rain, dancing and swaying to the rhythm of the raindrops.
Taking naps on the clouds, sculpturing them into beautiful sights to behold. Angels and puppies and babies, oh my!
And one thing you can be sure of, there would always be music in my ears.
I would sing and my voice would be that of an Angel. I would sing all day and nobody would tell me to be quiet.
I would be dancing in the sky whenever my loved ones looked up and I would be beside them giving spirit hugs whenever they fell down.
I would surround my loved ones with a pink bubble of love and a yellow bubble of happy.
I would cheer for their wins and comfort their pain.
I would be the butterfly that kissed their cheeks.
I would be the spring dandelion that catches their eyes.
I would just be. Me.
What’s your heaven?
Like the clouds in the sky, we travel through life, sometimes with a purpose and sometimes just drifting. Sometimes we are storm clouds and sometimes we are happy clouds. Sometimes our lives connect and we hold onto each other, until life pulls us apart again. Those moments of connection are the moments worth waiting for…
For my Partner in Pink
A beautiful Sand crane was standing on a wire looking down into my porch when she waved her wings at me.
I said, “Hey, come on down here and visit.”
She didn’t fly down to me, so I assumed that she didn’t have much to say.
She simply stood on one leg and waved her impressive, white wings.
She stared at me for a long while, until I began to wonder if maybe she was my mother.
Yes, I believe that our deceased loved ones can visit us, in numerous forms.
I sat watching her and I was entranced by her grace as she balanced on one foot.
Then, she lifted her wings and let the wind gently flow beneath them, moving like a ballerina on a tight rope, a dance so beautiful to behold.
Now I know why someone wrote the song, “You Are The Wind Beneath My Wings” because that’s exactly what she needed to touch the sky.
When the wind had lifted her wings sufficiently, she bounced on her feet and lifted off, a precious free spirit with wings that could carry her up, up into the clouds.
When I went out in the yard, a single white feather blew by my feet. I bent over to pick it up and brought it in the house.
I gave it a home in a glass mug, home to dozens of feathers from other visitors.
Every evening two broken women
Stumbled down a lonesome road
Passing each other on their way home
Silent, not a single word was spoken
Strangers they might have stayed
But one night the wind was howling
The lightening was crackling white
The black thunder roared
The icy rain drops pelted the ground
Beneath an old bridge they huddled
Two broken women hunkered down
Waiting for the storm to pass their town.
Thank you Michelle Marie. You give my PINK Dreams wings and you set them free…Love you, love PINK.
Imagine a world
where the flowers are blue
the sky is Cinderella pink
and your heart is brand new.
Heart never been broken
never kicked to the ground
a home built on rainbows…
awesome flowers surround.
Tears are never shed and
willow trees do not weep
when you close your eyes…
your soul He does keep.
Imagine a world
minus cursing and screams
imagine a world
where kindness beats mean.
Rose colored angels
waltz through your dreams
while dainty butterflies dance
on clouds of whipped cream.
Words & Pictures: Jeanne Marie, 2014