Our big, brown eyes locked.
Fast paced heart was about to jump out of his drooling mouth. Every breathe was sharp and heavy. Stressful fear had taken over. I could not reach to stop explosion. Part of him I never wanted to see, but did when we visited vets office.
This is the only time and place where fear paralyzed happy-go-lucky pup. Shaking air out of his lungs with speed of racing car. Joyous character perished in thin air. Nobody took notice of my continuous pleas to get over with it fast. It was like they where from another planet and I spoke different language.
Oh how I loathe times like these. Inner beast screams of injustice and wants to break their ignorant necks as they drag their feet. Furious blood-lust of a mother when she hears her cub crying beats in my human interior. Heart chokes under rivers of tears. Papers are signed without looking. Sentences are short to discourage any conversations. Terror in slow motion. Hopelessness to ease his…Continue
So much of me has changed since we first met. Life. It's chipped away at me. There are parts of me, parts of my soul, that are just dead. I go back and read my story, my earliest writings. I barely recognize her. I don't even look the same. I've tired. My mind has slowed. Bits and pieces ripped away, taken, stolen.
The brightest parts of me that were loved are all but gone. I've seized. All of me. Vapor-locked inside myself. I held back the storm for as long as I could. I painted a smile, pried myself open, each night wishing I'd wake and recognize some spark of who I was.
I am trying. I've not given up. But it hurts. I am broken. By this and that, flotsam and jetsam, pushed and shoved, twisted and pulled, slights and sharp words branded on my skin. The density of my own mistakes is pressing upon me, pulling me inside out. In all, I've held back the flood. I've stayed stolid, smiled on cue. I've not fought the tide, but gave into it like a deaf mute leading herself…Continue
Anyone alive today and with the capacity to think, reason, and remember knows where they were and what they were doing on that date. I had been with Southwestern Bell a little over a year and had finally landed a transfer to an inside job, out of manholes, out of the weather, and on the ground, not 30 feet up on some skinny telephone pole with tiny pieces of steel on my boots dug into the wood as far as they could possibly go.
I worked in what was then known as the Luther Central Office. In those days, we had letters in the phone numbers: LU for Luther or RI for Riverside or TE for Temple. I can still remember my girlfriends (now wife) number, TE-81662.
The Luther office was located in downtown Tulsa, the others scattered all over the city. My job had the title of Frameman. The frame was a monstrous hunk of wood, metal, and wires, about 15 feet high and half a block long. Let’s say a new customer wants a phone. There were no such things as computers where…Continue
After having temperatures threatening to enter back into the 90-degree range earlier this month, D.C.-area residents are now enjoying milder temperatures and foliage exploding with color. Finally!
This week for the Weekly Spotlight, let's all share a post inspired by or about fall. Dig into your archives or post something you wrote this season. I can't wait to read all the entries!
Just a reminder of the process:
My mom told me that I am afraid to love.
I am afraid she is right.
I put my dog to sleep this morning. I should say we, my family, though it was only three of us because my oldest son chose not to go. I don’t blame him. If my husband and other son hadn’t needed me, I would not have been there, either.
I hear people say things all the time about how it was peaceful. Quiet. They knew it was time. That it just looks like their pet went to sleep.
And I suppose for people who live on the surface, all those things are true. Yes. It was peaceful. It was quiet. But it was also awful. Horrible. Traumatic. Sickening. Death. It rips at you from the inside out and never stops. Never.
It’s never stopped since my sister died 20 years ago.
I can’t believe I just wrote that. I actually had to do the math. Twenty years. TWENTY years ago my 11-year-old sister was taken off of life support.
It was peaceful. It was quiet. …Continue
I love painting my nails because it quiets my mind and allows me to focus on one thing. My mind is usually running as fast as the little hamsters can go, and there is something about brushing a layer of polish on my nails that makes it all stop for a few minutes. If I had the time, I would paint my nails every day.
When I was pregnant, I painted my then-husband's toenails. He didn't want to go to work in the warehouse with painted fingernails, so I settled for just the toes. I couldn't reach my own, so it was really kind of him to give me those extra few minutes of a quieted mind.
I had my baby—a boy—and was thrilled when he started to show an interest in my colorful nails. It wasn't long until he was requesting his nails be painted to look “like mommy's.” Not only did it give me a few peaceful moments, but it gave us a chance to bond. In his…Continue
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