~ An Unfinished Canvas

My life is an unfinished canvas
to which strokes of color
are added each day.
Each bold stroke
a vivid reminder of
who I am
and
where I’ve been.
Each fragmented paint splatter
a possibility of
where I’m heading next.

© July 2012

~ Summer (a poem)

warm sand between my toes

waves crashing against the beach

bright umbrellas for miles and miles

tanned bodies glistening in the sunshine

the squeals of a child as the cold water rushes over her toes

the happy bark of a dog chasing after a Frisbee

seagulls squawking overhead as they dive for lunch

hard-body lifeguards keeping watch from the towers

the sun setting low in brilliant colors of orange, red, and yellow

bonfires, hotdogs, and roasted marshmallows

couples swaying to the sound of a distant guitar

walking hand in hand along the waters edge

the sights

the sounds

the smells

the colors

of

summer.

July 2012

~ Here's To You, Mom

Earlier today, I found myself wandering around an antiques store with my rockstar. I'm always on the hunt for old books and next thing I knew, I came across these. In the middle of an antiques mall, I’m suddenly 8 years old again, being bathed in the memories of my childhood. There I was, with Nan, Bert, and Flossie in my hands, tears streaming down my face, looking around to make sure no one was near. Crying. In public, no less. Why, you ask?

My mom. She bought me my first Bobbsey Twins books, and it's because of my mom and her strong influence that I have such a love for books, and for reading. It's because of my mom that I was reading at such an early age. And, thanks to my mom, I am a book whore, lol.

It makes me sad when people tell me they don't read. Either they don’t have time or they just don’t like to sit and read, it makes me sad. Maybe it's because I was raised to appreciate books and music. My dad was in the radio broadcasting business and music was as much a part of my life as books were. To this day, I don't go anywhere without whatever current book I'm reading, and my iPod. To me, a book is like an extra appendage and music is a part of my soul.

I felt pretty foolish standing in an antiques store crying because of some memories that a book brought back. Truth be told, the little girl in me still misses her mom. At the end of the day, the little girl in me still needs to hear my mom tell me everything will work out the way it's supposed to. At the end of the day, I just want my mom.

Today would have been my mom's 80th birthday. Because of cancer, she's not here to celebrate an age that should have been a milestone for her. In honor of my mom, I'll be skipping my coffee in the morning. Instead, I'll be drinking English tea with just a ‘spot’ of milk and some sugar. Because that's how I roll with my tea.

I'll drink tea, have a scone, and read the Bobbsey Twins.

Happy Birthday, Mom - here's to you . . .

~ Summer Memories

When I was a kid, Summer meant:

water gun fights

slip 'n slides

peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches

a never ending supply of grape kool-aid

my mom's chocolate chip cookies, warm right out of the oven

Prell shampoo (my aunt Joyce used to wash my hair in her kitchen sink)

my aunt Joyce’s hush puppies

a houseful of neighborhood kids

all day spent at the pool

baby oil & iodine

popsicles

kick-the-can

hula-hoops

playing jacks on the front porch

coming home when the street lights came on

summer bible school with our next door neighbors

Coke & Cherry slurpees from 7-11

relatives visiting from England

crushes on the lifeguard at the neighborhood pool

drinking out of the garden hose

dancing around my bedroom to Donny Osmond

family vacations

weekly trips to the library

McDonald’s being a special treat

leaving the house in the morning, and only coming home for lunch and dinner

bike rides to the nearest Braum's for ice cream

my mom’s peach cobbler

God, I miss summer . . .

~ Looking Back

When  I was carrying her, I didn’t think about her first day of school, her first boyfriend, her first school dance, or her first ‘real’ date.

When I was carrying her, I didn’t think about dance lessons, make-up, getting her drivers license, or her first car.

When I was carrying her, the farthest thing from my mind was a picture of her all grown up and married, with a family of her own.  

And even further from my mind was the day that she would someday make me a grandmother.  

When I was carrying her, I thought about:

carrying her to term

counting her fingers & toes after she was born

late night feedings

diaper changes

watching her sleep

keeping her safe from all harm

who would she look like

would she be a sleeper or a cryer

Twenty four years later, she’s a college graduate, a wife, and a mother-to-be.  And  now I look at her and I think to myself, what a beautiful woman she’s grown up to be, and what an incredible wife and mother she’ll be.  

As I sit here and roll the term ‘grandmother’ around on my tongue, I like it.  I’m going to love this new role in my life.  

Full circle.  

My mom would have so loved this.

~ On Friendship

Last night I joined five very dear friends for a going away dinner for one of them.  Her husband is in the Air Force and is being transferred out of state, taking our friend, kicking and screaming (us, not her) with him.

Driving to the restaurant last night, the sky was changing rapidly.  All day the weatherman kept saying storms were on the way, the CWS would be affected, expect high winds, hail, etc.  Wouldn't you know, that as I'm driving to meet my friends, that is when the skies suddenly decide to shake, rattle, and roll while at the same time,  giving a phenomenal light show.

Stopped at a light, I looked up at the sky and actually considered turning around to go back home.  You would think, being born and raised in Oklahoma, where tornados are as common as tequila in Mexico, a little bad weather wouldn't bother me.  Truth be told, I hate storms.  Nebraska has its fair share of storms and tornados, and while the weather changing on a dime is a fact of life here, storms still have the power to freak me out.  I rode out a tornado-like storm with my mom a few months before she died and she lived in an apartment with no place to go.  Scary place to be during a tornado.  An apartment, with no place to go and your mom in a wheelchair.  

Anyway, I got to the restaurant at the same time as one of the other girls and parking next to each other, we pointed at the clouds and simultaneously said, "WTF!" She said  like me, she considered turning around and heading back home hide out.

Arms linked together, we walked into the restaurant giggling like school girls, and as the hostess asked us how many, I told her we were joining another party and if it was all the same to her,  I would just follow the laughter to find them.  Immediately around the corner and up a few stairs, we were met by three of them at a big square table, their faces nothing but smiles, and the warmth of friendship shining in their eyes.  

We sat down amid hugs and congratulations to me for my upcoming grandchild, questions to our mover about when the movers were coming and when they were leaving, and what everyone has been doing since school got out.  Once the sixth person of our little gathering arrived, it was game on.  At this point, we really should have given the other diners around us a warning of some kind, along with 'ahead of time' apologies.  There were 3 or 4 conversations floating around the table, and laughter was ringing out like a church bell on Sunday morning.

Since our table was right next to a bank of windows, once in a while, one of us would look out and make an off comment about the torrential downpour happening outside and how suddenly the streets were filled with rushing water, how the big ass trucks were barreling through the puddles, while the smaller cars were going at a snails pace.  However, the storm that was raging outside didn't compare to the raucous party being held inside, because a few hours later, after countless pictures being taken, old stories being retold, new memories being made, our pasta bowls emptied, and our bladders floating away from all the iced tea we drank,  the waitress was literally hustling us out of the restaurant because they needed our table.  Where had the time gone?

With eyes watering and sides aching, we reluctantly paid our bills and walked out into the now misty, gray skies.  There were no tears shed as we said our farewells to our friend.  Just laughter.  Lots and lots of laughter.  

That's the thing about being older and having girlfriends; we're mature enough to not only to honor and value what we have with each other, but to appreciate the bond that we share with others who have, "been there, done that".  We've all 'got the t'shirt' from one or all of the same clubs.   We're there for each other; from support during the rough and awful times, to celebrating the happy, once-in-a-lifetime moments.  

I can't believe I considered missing a few hours with these wonderful women in my life all because of a little storm.  

~ My Rock Star

In April of 1981, I met a boy.  A boy with dark wavy hair, brown eyes that literally melted my heart when he turned them on me, and a smile that stopped me dead in my tracks.  A boy named Ken, the boy who stole my heart.

In May of 1982, I married that boy.  We were young and in love, and he was my world.  Thirty years later, we’re a bit older but still very much in love.  He’s not only my world, he’s my rock star.  He’s the father of my children, my shoulder to lean on; the one I turn to when my world has been turned upside down.  His eyes still melt my heart and his smile can still stop me dead in my tracks.  His voice is like a smooth whiskey, warming me from the inside out.  He’s my comfort when my dreams turn into nightmares, and the one I always want by my side.  He's the one I look for in a crowded room, the one I can next to in comfortable silence. 

He’s a husband, a father, a father in-law.  He’s a big game hunter, a fisherman, a golfer.  He’s a business owner, and a provider.

He’s my laughter, my smile, my love, my heart.  He’s my very own rock star.

Happy 30^th Anniversary, love.