Archive for ‘the quiet moments.’

January 15, 2012

Wanderling.

I lay. Looking up at the gilded fairies that dance in the window sun.  Before now, thats what they’ve always been. Gilded little sun fairies. Before now, they held more magic then C.S. Lewis.

Now its just dust. 

Truth seeped into my head thru ways of sticks and stones. But the words?  Whoever said words dont hurt… well, I wish I lived in their wonderland.  The words are what broke my bones.

I remember trying to count them… all those swirling, dancing fairies that floated above my head. I remember wondering what it would be like to just be one of them. A wanderling. A lost and fluttering tiny soul just being happy with the sun.

As I sit up, my wreckless hair disturbs and gold is sent flying out of control. Funny how close real life parallels such wonder…. once you move. you disrupt.

But maybe thats what makes life so much more, because the gilded sun specks never actually leave. They just get throw and tossed and then, once gathered, they keep on glittering. In silence. In beauty. In simplness. In happy.

Sitting in the window sun, reflecting on my disruption, focusing on the silence, the beauty, the simplness, the happy of life.

 

  

 

Advertisements
September 24, 2011

{ wonderment }

Chapter 1~
I sit pondering on thoughts that shouldnt be in my mind.  I feel the blood surge thru my veins. dancing and racing. twirling and laughing. I twist my hair in a knot on the top of my head, roll up my sleves, breath in deep, begin to type, and then…. nothing. Like suspended in time, my fingers freeze.  my brain goes numb. my eyes franticly search the keyboard and panic sets in as the letters begin to rearrange themselves. I feel my brain come alive and like a snake it coils in and around itself. its retreating. typical. I had grand plans. I had a story. I have a story.

If only my body would respond to the beauty that envelopes my mind. 

Chapter 2 ~
I want to tell you things that hold me captive. That seize my mind. That throw me to the stars and let me hang for a while. I want to tell you things that break my bones in two. I want to tell you how a person so pretty can bring me to tears. I want to laugh OUT LOUD. I want to tell you exactly what I think and I want to demand the same from you. Why waste your hard work and thought up flattery on me if you dont like me.  The truth behind this acknowledging smile I give you is… I know youre only lying to me. I want to spread my brain out like a blue print to a renovation and go thru every last detail etched in white. Describing to you all its wonder. imagination. memories. empty spaces and why they are left so…

I want to do these things, but my body doesnt respond to the beauty that envelopes my mind…

Chapter 3 ~
Attachment is one of my many personality traits of impeccable flaw. I attach myself to people like a barnacle to a whale.  most the time the whale doesnt even know. So here I am. again. attached. and the whale doesnt have a clue. It sorta hurts, but isnt that my own damned fault?

Chapter 4 ~
I dont see things. at all. Daddy always told me I was forever a four year old with an open heart. If the monsters in my closet told me they were scared too, I’d welcome them in. Well, the heart is closing and I’m beginning to see things as they are… these monsters have fangs. 

Chapter 5~
And I dont think any of this makes any sense…
The disasterously beautiful End.

September 17, 2011

flowering tea for one, please.

I got lost in old letters today.

Its also still raining outside.

I -honestly- feel a little abandoned.

The annoying thing about me….

I feel too hard.

I dont like to call it “dramatic.”

makes it seem like the feeling shouldnt be acknowledged as real,

but mere moments of idiocy.

This.

This is real.

and it hurts.

I stood in the middle of my kitchen looking for food I didnt plan on eating.

Then I remembered my secret pick-me-up that I keep stashed in the very back cabinet.

I save it only for feelings such as these…

hard feelings.

deep feelings.

Flowering Tea for one, please.

 

the end.

September 6, 2011

if my heart could speak…

i want a house.

a simple one.

that we call our own.

with a red mailbox.

“The Thompsons” painted on the side.

i want a garden of wildflowers that i planted on purpose.

peonies, lavender, and lazy susans as tall as i.

with morning glories climbing the brick chimney.

i want a small kitchen that smells of cut tomato and fresh basil.

 a small kitchen… with a big window.

with wood panelling that opens outward. 

i want a livingroom of furniture worn and weathered from yesterday’s memories.

a fireplace.

layered and dusted with ash.

i want a bedroom that never changes.

where our babies are made.

babies.

i want bookcases of all our favorites.

years old.

i want a growth chart for my little ones.

maybe we’ll have just boys.

and they’ll grow to the ceiling.

i want to have a wall.

for just my little one’s art.

framed and displayed with importance.

i want a red door.

with a knocker.

i want grass that he rarely cuts.

so it will grow tall.

i want a wood swing attached to a tall wood with our initials carved to.

g + g

in a heart with an arrow thru.

i want this for when i am old.

for when i am old, my baby is grown, and this house is quiet..

i want to walk thru this kitchen and remember the morning yawns of my little one,

i want to lean into my livingroom chair and remember the stories i read to him

over and over,

i want to sit and look at the christmas tree and remember his excitement,

i want to walk past his room and just stare, lay in his childhood bed, hold Blue Bear close, thank him for loving my boy,

i want to touch every framed work of art and remember the day he brought it home proud.

i want to slumber in the bed where me and my soulmate rest and remember the love we shared there.

when my bones dont work, my sight is drifting, my mind is fleeting,

i want my home.

my home laced and drenched in our life.

our home whispering its memories to me.

i want this.

more than it hurts to dream it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

August 26, 2011

not again…

I was sitting with his family. They welcomed me for some reason. Last I remember, they disliked me greatly. I was happy. Estatic even.  Warm.  At home.  The way I envisioned the future. The tall overgrown grass we were perched in swept over my shoulders as the breeze of twilight ensued. The Fireflies glowed a warm yellow. Pieces of my hair wisped around my face and got stuck in my eyelashes.  My cheeks were starting to hurt.  I was smiling too much. I pulled my knees up to my chest and buried my head in my arms. I felt my treses fall around my arms. “Keep this moment.” I whispered dearly to myself.
“Please. Please. Keep this moment.”  

I dont like dreaming. Never have. Never will.
I feel guilty, teased, played with, tugged on, strangled.
This illusion was not the reality….

It seeps in thru my slumber and its vision is so soft.
So sweet.
So real.
So everything that I wished it was.

Lucid dreaming comes without warning now. I practiced the techniques of dream control for years. and mastered it. Its a dirty scheme… figuring out and manipulating the deeper parts of your brain. It doesnt make you any smarter. It doesnt make you any more or less sane, cure mental disabilities, or distort youre ability to think logically or critically. But it does rip thru the seams of reality and unconsciousness and invades your memories. Dismembering them and throwing them to different ends of your unconscious world leaving you wandering. searching. needing them to be put back toether and doing anything it takes to do so.  Once you’ve learned to control your unconsciousness.. you lose dream control all together.  There is nothing more frightening then walking thru a dream, knowing your dreaming, knowing you have so much control that every  little thing you fear, dread, long for and think of… becomes.

Two years ago it was healing. I felt as tho, when it happened, that I was able satisfy the craving of yesterdays addiction. That I was able it sew the slices of my flesh back together. When it happened, I felt as tho I could tie my heart’s arteries shut, hold my breath, time warp, and evaporate into what it is…. or what I could make it.  That I was able to write a different ending.

But I’ve lost that.  After I buried my head in my arms, after I begged myself it keep the moment, after I pleaded to just stay in the dream… reality came. I looked up and knew that I was asleep. That this beautiful moment, this breathtaking feeling in my chest, the fireflies, the sun setting, his family…. was all just a dream. Sitting there in the grass, my heart sank. The sun turned into a ball of flaoting ash, his family turned on me, the grass scraped my shoulders… the fireflies stung. He came out from around the corner and sat next to me. I was paralized with fear. I knew who he was in reality and not the boychild of my dream. He moved my hair away from my face. I desparately tried to force my conscience back into the dream, but to no avail.

I lost control.

I was a ragdoll to his every emotion of hatred towards me, I was flung helplessly as each on of his hits came to my head, I could feel on my skin the pounding of his heart… the throbbing of his veins. I could feel in my bones the pure evil he had intended for me. I could feel the warmth of blood start to pour out of my ears, I closed my eyes and laid there in the grass, the same grass that, meer seconds ago, caressed me. welcomed me.  He laid ontop of me to keep me from moving. To keep me from trying to get away.  My hands were small against his ginormous god-like body. My defense was useless.  I struggled while he lashed out. Hit me. Cut me. Bit me.  He hated me so much.

I was awake for every second of it…. as I lay in my bed sleeping.

October 18, 2010

(successful morning)

>These are amazing!

I woke with the desire to smell my morning. It was little overcast outside… perfect for a tasty, yummy-smelling breakfast. So, I made one.

Carter Levi tossed and turned as I gathered my bacon, eggs, and cheese, along with the perfect spices of salt and pepper, paprika, and rosemary. I lined the bacon rings inside the muffin pan and cracked my eggs inside.

I broke the yoke and sprinkled the cheese…

I sipped my coffee and thought about my past week… thanking Him again for His protection and love. Espcially over our little one.


This morning was successful. It was quiet, yummy, sweet, loving, and it smelled good.

September 19, 2010

Just plain good days.

>Yesterday, My mom came down to my house. We spent time together, driving all over oceanside doing some little Carter shopping and idea making. We made a Target baby registry, grabbed a starbucks. Toffee mocha decaf frap for me… chai latte for her. We had chik-fil-a for lunch, and boston market for dinner. We talked deep.. we talked light. We gossiped and laughed (well, at least I’m honest.) We did the mother/daughter thing. It was pretty much exactly what I needed. Just my mom, just me, and the freedom to competely relax around someone who knows me. When she left that night, the typical come down came. The house felt lonely again, but happy. If you can be a happy lonely… I was a happy lonely =)

Today, my dad came down. Again, it was exactly what I needed. We went to Wal-mart and bought a car battery, then put it in the car together. We ate a great lunch at longborder’s cafe. I had the longborder pm and he had the classic cheeseburger. When we got home we sat on the couch and youtubed ukelele music and played together. When he left it was the same feeling… lonely, but happy. Everything was good. Great even. I felt loved, warm, like a daughter again. Its weird to be “grown.” Even weirder to forget how nice it is to just be their kid again.

I had a good happy two days with my parents. The simple easy days mean so much sometimes ❤

September 11, 2010

the saddest song ever played…

>The saddest song ever played isnt a country song. It isnt an R&B. It isnt an aria or ochestra piece. It isnt even a hymn. To me, in my tiny world of knowledge and expierence, the saddest song ever played is Butterfield’s Lullaby… better known as Taps.

With only 24 notes and 8 measures, it plays the heartbroken woes of fallen soilders and the importance of our American Flag. It plays so perfectly the tears that roll down a mother’s cheek, a lover’s unconditional love, a child’s confusion, and a father’s pride….

Since I was a child, that song has torn me to shreds. I hate it as much as I appreciate it. I’m comforted by it as much as it makes me hurt. Early this morning, in rememberance of September 11, 2001, Butterfield’s Lullaby as played over the loud speakers. I lay curled in my bed with the window open, listening. Waves of pure silence flooded the base. When I normally hear people talking, cars humming, children laughing… there was nothing. Everyone was still. Everyone was quiet. Everyone was remembering. Except me. I do what I always do when I hear that beautiful song… I cry.

The saddest song ever played…

September 3, 2010

[ i don’t want to ]

>

Yesterday I worked from sun up to sun down. There were times when I got annoyed trying to lift something because I was unable to, many of the things I could lift, I couldnt carry them like I normally do… I had to shift it to my sides from my ever growing belly. I did the transfer of my homes barefoot. not smart. It felt good yesterday to do something other than lay there, stuffed from to much overwhelming emotion. It felt good to keep my mind busy. My thoughts were constantly running. But at the end of such a constantly in motion day, I tend to feel even more alone when I finally lay down to rest. Now my body is no longer working to balance unborn child and boxes of dishware, Im not eating, Im not thinking of what else I have to do, what Ive accomplished so far, if Ive made enough progress to help out the guys with the bigger items, if I should stop, if I should keep going, what else I want to get for the new home, what else I need to get for the new home, Im no longer thinking of the excitement of picking up the new stuff me and gregory have picked out together. no. none of those thoughts are happening now. Now, Im just laying there. Body exhausted and my mind… desparately tring to find something to think about, but its just to tried as well. I lay there defeated by my own will. Obsessing starts to unravel me. I watch my phone. I fall asleep with it and wake up with it still in my hand. Im terrified Ill miss his call, but I never do. Im terrifed. terrified. terrified. The deep silence of night kills me. His baby moves inside me. He tumbles so soft and mellow. He rolls and stretches. I sing him his lullaby that I made up two years before he was even thought of. He was thougt of. dreamed of. So I hum his tune and he goes to sleep. I weep. Ive never loved two people more. Sometimes its more than Im capable of. Its so wonderful and surreal. Like I dont deserve it.
I lay exhausted. Even more so than just from the labor of the day, but from the emotion of the night. I dont want to do this over again tomorrow. I dont want to.