I Miss You, Baby Girl

 

I have parted with many material things this past year, but one loss stands up and shouts in my heart right now.
I miss my little chihuahua, Ms. Skeeter. This was my first Christmas without her since I rescued her in 2007.
I haven’t had many regrets about the belongings I gave away, threw away and sold, which is good, because when I mourn, I mourn long and hard.
But, as I wrapped presents for my dog, Maggie Mae, Ms. Skeeter’s absence was loud and my heart was aching with missing her.
She was a feisty little lady, and as she grew older, a biter. She would bite me savagely for cutting her nails, she’d attack anyone who touched shoes (so we had to hide all the shoes) and sometimes, she’d bite me and Maggie Mae for no reason at all.
Between her bites, we all enjoyed playing and running, toys, hugs, and kisses.
She slept beside my computer when I wrote, and when she wanted a break, she’d lay on the computer. She was by my side for twelve years, whether I wrote, walked, cleaned the house, sat outside or slept. She loved to hold the remote and she always kept one paw on something of mine. Lord help me if I wanted it back.
I miss you, baby girl. I know you’re playing with the other dogs in Heaven; but I wish you were still here with me.

Goodbye For Now Ms. Skeeter (Kita) March 26

 

 

Always Home For Christmas

 

Today, someone asked me if I’m going home for Christmas.
I told them that I am already home.
I will be home no matter where I park, because I will always be bringing my home with me. My 330 sq. foot home has wheels.
With family in Oklahoma, Maine, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Florida, Indiana and Montana, I could never really gather my entire family in one place, so maybe I’ll spend Christmas in a different state each year.
This year it’s Florida.
I’m a bit of a gypsy. I’ve lived in the first five of those states, plus New Jersey and Tennessee. I moved to Oklahoma four times, Florida twice, New Hampshire twice and I have owned fifteen houses.
But, from now on, no matter which destination I choose, with my family and friends safe in my heart and only a phone call away, I will always be home for Christmas.

 

Sand. Love. Time and me…

Playing in the waves for an hour, letting the beach rock me
lying on my back in the embryonic, turquoise water.
Practicing letting go and trusting God.
Floating in the ocean, trusting that even if the water gets rough,
He will keep me safe.
When I feel the stress melt away, I walk out of the ocean.
I spread the blanket and lay down and reach for a handful of sand.
As soon as I fill my hand, the grains slip through my fingers.
So, you know I had to try again and again to hold a handful of sand.
I hold handful after handful of pure white sand and
no matter how tightly I squeeze, it quickly slips away.
Nothing stays but a few tiny grains of the stunning white crystals.
Time and love are so similar to sand.
I could only hold the sand with my hand open.
I hold our love in my hands and I hold on tightly, trying not to let it slip away.
But always, I am left with nothing but a few lovely grains of what was once
a sandcastle full of hopes and dreams…and the memories of that which was us.
Time and love slip through my hands even faster than grains of sand.
Some things were never meant to be restrained.
They lose their luster if you try to own them.
Sand. Love. Time and me…

( #10 SHE Saga) Let It Go, Let It Go

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I feel numb and She is hiding.  I know she’s furious with me and she didn’t believe that I would go through with my plan to get rid of everything that I didn’t absolutely need or want…before we moved into our tiny home on wheels.

I guess it was my turn to pitch a fit. It happened when I was decluttering tonight, when I was down to facing the boxes that I hadn’t unpacked in over ten years.

She objected over every piece I tossed. She cried. She screamed.

She was so upset that she had me walking in circles, holding things to my chest, paralyzed by grief and indecision. After about an hour of circles, I snapped.

“Stop! Stop, leave me the f… alone,” I screamed as I dumped another pile of boxes in the middle of the room. When the pile was gigantic, I sat down beside it with a kitchen trash can beside me.

She left and the silence was eerie.

I quickly filled that kitchen bag, so I went downstairs for the green yard bags and I kept going.

I dragged at least six green bags full of papers, memories, CD’s and tapes down the stairs tonight and out onto the front porch for trash day. Plus, containers and boxes full of stuff.

My wedding dress got special treatment. It was 3:00 a.m. and I walked outside and hung it on a tree beside the yard sale.

My neighbor was still outside because she was getting ready to have a yard sale with me, and she said, “You have to take a picture,” and of course, I did.

As I took pictures, trying to capture my emotional whirlpool in a snapshot of a dress, I remembered the day I went shopping for it with my mum and how proud she was that I was marrying such a good man, a man who worked and took care of me and my three kids financially.

I remembered how happy she was to buy the dress for me, and in 1983, $27.00 was a lot of money.

The dress draped my tiny hips like it was designed just for me, and it made Mum smile because back then, I seldom wore dresses.

She special ordered artificial roses for my corsage and for the wedding, because I was allergic to flowers and I remember how the florist thoughtlessly sprayed them with rose perfume and I sneezed all day.

Our mind is like a computer and it captures every little thing we have ever done, seen or felt.

I threw the still rosy corsage away tonight too, along with a box of wedding day souvenirs. We never dreamed thirty-eight years ago it would end this way, my wedding dress hung in a tree for a yard sale, all alone in the dark. Big ouch.

Couldn’t hold on till morning. Needed to let it go, let it go.

He was here helping me finish up the packing and for the closing, and I couldn’t afford to show any weaknesses in front of him. It was a real test.

His heart was hurting as he saw me throw away our memories.

The picture Mum bought me because she thought it looked like us, my IHRA umbrella and dozens of presents he had bought me.

I think it hit him hardest when he saw my books start to go. Fifteen houses and thirty-eight years, through it all, he’d been complaining about moving my books. I always found ways to resist his demands to get rid of the damn books, because I loved my books. I had learned that if I carried the boxes in and out of the moving trucks, it wasn’t as bad, but even then, the “weight” it added bothered him.

I usually soothe him when he’s hurting, even if he’s sad because he hurt me, but not anymore. (Codependency, which I’m recovering from, one day at a time…amen.)

I probably went too far tonight, when I shoved She away with all my strength.
She left, but I know she will be back, so I’m going to enjoy this time without her.

It’s the first time in forever that she hasn’t been challenging me, quietly or violently.

(# 1 SHE Saga) She Wants What She Wants

Link above will take you to the complete list of She Saga posts.

Wildflowers

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The breeze in my face is sweet
and it tastes like the ocean in my lungs
although it’s not.
Then again, it really is because
that’s what it tastes like to me.
Freedom is a wildflower growing
where ever the wind blows her seeds,
in a garden or in an empty field.
Freedom tastes like the ocean
and looks like wildflowers
and freedom…she dances
with the confidence of seventeen.

Jeanne Marie, 2019