His First Love

Whenever we communicate, he never calls me by my name. He calls me his First Love. Each time it catches me off guard. And each time it transports me back to a time of belly butterflies, giggles, and daydreams.
My first love was a beautiful love. I was 13 and he was 15. He was kind and caring.  Such a beautiful time. He came at a time when I needed him most. I think for as much as we knew about love, he really did love me and I him.

When we communicate he never calls me by my name, he always calls me his First Love. Each time it brings an instant smile to my face and I’m transported back in time. It’s a time of daydreams in class with silly grins on my face. Doodling my first name with his last incased in a heart. Oh the memories. Puppy love at it’s finest.

first-love-never-dies[1]   When we communicate he never calls me by my name, he calls me his First Love. Each time I’m instantly transported back to a time of hours on a rotary phone, with a long cord, curled up on my bed talking sweet and low. Signifying his jokes with sweet giggles. This love beckons to me. With my head under the covers professing my love and receiving his, it becomes a love tent. In that tent for that time my world is perfect. Until, my mama realizes that the extra long phone cord is stretched into the love tent. My mama saying hang up that’s enough. But it’s never enough. Then we play, you hang up first. And it goes like this, No you hang up first. No you. No you.  Ok same time when I count to 3. 1-2-3. You didn’t hang up. You either. Then we laugh and start over again and again, until a final warning from mama says she means it this time.

When we communicate he never calls me by my name, he calls me his First Love. Each time he does I’m transported to a time of writing him letters of all the things I can’t say. The I’s all dotted with hearts and the closing is,
2 of us
2 gether
4 ever
It’s carefully folded and addressed to my mister from his misses and sealed with hearts and kisses. It requires a special delivery.

When we communicate he never calls me by my name, he always calls me his First Love.





Holiday Blues

My day started off on such a positive note.  Then with about as much warning a lightening strike my mood takes a downward spiral. I found myself becoming more and more agitated as the day wore on. Then I became almost tearful. At some points I even felt almost confused which lead to feeling overwhelmed. And that my be the perfect word for the entire scenario, overwhelmed. As I sat at my desk I began to really realize of girl, you need to get a hold of yourself. Take a minute to regroup. I tried but I was unable to free myself from this web of emotions. I felt as helpless as the fly who found himself  entrapped in the silky web of the crafty spider. The difference, my crafty spider is grief, the web, the intricate flow of emotions it so craftily spins.


Luckily for me I noticed the patterns that my grief and the emotions that I experience. Unfortunately, this does not make things any easier. What it does, is allow me to put those closest to me on notice. They know that it is not in my character to be snappy, rude, withdrawn or angry. I know that I need to take timeouts and try and work through my feelings until these “festive” days are done. Grief can be such an overbearing barrage of emotions. Will there ever be freed from this emotional web?

Living in Fear- 2014

I had a situation this week. My 16-year-old son decided to skip school. This is how it all went down.
I’m just finishing up a workout session at the gym and I’m feeling great. I’m riding and singing, when off in the distance I see a male walking from the back. I say to myself,  if I didn’t know better, I’d say that was Brendan. I ride on and hit a few high notes. As I get closer I’m thinking wasn’t Brendan dressed like that when he left this morning? So I turn down the radio, you know, so I could see better. Don’t act like you have never done that before. As I pass this kid I realize it is Brendan! I did a U-turn that would make the best stunt driver jealous! So many things flashed through my mind in a matter of seconds. Maybe that’s not really him. Maybe he got clocked on the head and now he has amnesia, and he doesn’t even know he should be in school. Maybe he doesn’t realize that it’s  me and I see him(based upon his calm cool collected gait). But alas it is him, there is no sign of head trauma and he does know that he is caught. Well the gist of this portion of the story is I took him back to school because home would not have been a safe haven for him. He said there was no problem he just needed some air, so he decided to take a walk. Yep that was his story. We handled things at school and I went home.  So much later that evening we he arrived home, this is a snippet of the conversation.

Do you know how badly this could have turned out? Do you realize could have been the reason for yet another march. The topic of conversation on social media? You could have been the reason Al Sharpton knows my name. You do realize that you are in season, young unarmed black boy walking in the wrong place at the wrong time. All it took was for one person to look out of their front window and find you suspicious and call police. What would his approach be? Shoot first and come up with a reason why he felt his life was endangered later? That seems to be the go to story. Would you have run because you were afraid? Would he give chase or just shot you multiple times in the back? Those were my first thoughts. The fact that it’s wrong to skip class was not the top priority. The value of education and being responsible were not first and foremost either. The top item on the list was you could have been killed and for what, skipping class. This is the world we live in, in  2014, not 1914. I pray his eyes were opened to the reality of the world he must navigate and figure out a way to thrive therein.


History repeats itself, there’s evidence of that.  Next will I have to tell my sons no, I was wrong, do not look people in the eye particularly white police officers they may feel threatened by that. And they will shoot to kill. Look at the ground, and make no sudden moves. Do not square up your shoulders and stand up straight and carry yourself with pride and respect. This could be viewed as a sign of aggression. Again, they will shoot to kill. Hunch your shoulders so as to appear smaller, weaker, submissive and unthreatening.

Since public executions seem to be on trend, what’s next? Segregation? Hangings?
This is not the world I envisioned my children growing up in. Things are supposed to be better for our children than they were for us. I’m thinking this could very well be the generation that breaks that trend. I live in fear for my children, who are being raised to be respectful and obedient. I live in fear for my children who are being raised in the United States of America. The home of the free and the brave? Innocent until proven guilty, where no one man is judge,  jury and executioner? Right?

Life’s a Freestyle

 Ready, Set, Done!

As it’s been a while since our last free-write… set a timer for ten minutes. Write without pause (and no edits!) until you’re out of time. Then, publish what you have (it’s your call whether or not to give the post a once-over).

So the daily writing prompt is to basically freestyle. I have no CLUE as to where this is going, your guess is as good as mine. But the timer has started so lets see where it goes.

I guess this writing prompt is a lot like  life. Life is really just one big freestyle. Sure can have a vision but you have no control over the world around you and you have to be able to adapt and overcome within  seconds sometimes. Example, a car runs a red light, you have to be fluid, you must possess the ability to adapt and overcome, literally within seconds. And then there’s the more life altering freestyle that you encounter. Let’s say your seemingly perfectly healthy 38 year old husband is diagnosed with a rare untreatable, definitely incurable cancer. When he is diagnosed its already in the advanced stages and you are the only one who truly understand the gravity of the situation, because you are the nurse in the family. So it’s up to you to translate what the doctor is saying not only to your husband, but your children, your mother in law, your father in law and everyone else in the family. Finding the words to say and saying them with just the right tone, at just the right time. The freestyle of my life was telling my husband we have no way to save his life. How does one adapt to and overcome that, even after seven years.

Feeling Fancy

Feeling Fancy

Today’s writing prompt is:

Feeling Fancy
You’re given unlimited funds to plan one day full of any and all luxuries you normally can’t afford. Tell us about your extravagant day with as much detail as possible.

Ahhh yes, finally all that rubbing on the lamp has paid off. Poof the Genie is out of the bottle, flexing and ready to start granting, and I am dreaming and ready to start wishing! Just wishin’ and hopin’ and thinkin’ and prayin’ and plannin’ and dreamin’…Dusty Springfield voice trails off.

Take a moment to journey with me and my most magnificent day.

First of all, I’m awakened by my house hunk to catch the sunrise as it peaks over the horizon, of the private island that I have secured for just this, occasion. And it is beautiful. The varying shades of oranges and yellows, sandwiched by the blue of the sky and the blue water of the Pacific ocean. The villa has 360 degree views of the island and the beautiful blue green waters that surround it. As I stand on the balcony and breath in the crisp lightly salted air , I hold it to savor the moment. Eyes closed, head back arms outstretched to the side I allow my mind to be carried away to my next destination by the gentle ocean breeze.

Next, it’s horseback riding in the lush rainforest of the Big island. It’s everything I hoped it would be. The peace I feel is almost palpable. It’s a leisure ride in the valley that is surrounded by green mountains dotted with pockets of color from the wildflowers that flourish there. I can hear the sounds of the native creatures calling to one another, distance sounds of the many waterfalls gently expanding their reach, and the crunch of the forest floor underneath my riding buddy’s hooves. Heaven on earth is what comes to mind. As we ride on, I allow my mind to drift on to my next destination.

Dressed in my parker, boots, fury hat and gloves I could easily be mistaken for umm a visitor to this what could only be described as otherwordly, yet magnificently beautiful plot of almost untouched earth spread before me. The site before me is simply breathtaking. There are peaks of varying shades of white separated by the bluest of blue sky that seems to slice through the peaks. And it’s fronted by the icy blue ocean water, littered by tiny ice islands that have broken free. It’s so surreal that at any moment I expect to hear the narrator from the Discovery channel, begin his tale of how only the red billed squatter penguins are the only inhabitants of this glacier and they only nest here twice a year. Though it’s well below freezing, what washes over me is this, it’s December, snowing outside and you have been stuck in traffic for over and hour it’s been a rough day and you arrive home to a crackling fire, your favorite comfy jammies and a cup of your favorite hot beverage is waiting for you. Or a clean house with no kids, you call it. As I surrender to this feeling, I allow my mind to wonder to my next destination.

My drifting is cut short by the realization that this glorious day is all but over. Cinderella mode sets in, the bong of the clock striking 12 has started. Hastily, I decide there is only one thing left to do. And that is to click buy on the Apple stock purchase! Or maybe Chipotle, either way, perfect end to a perfect day.