Sunday, March 23, 2014

Family Tradition or Ritual (Writer'sWorkshopAssignment)

I'm a blank

In my family secrecy was tradition.  Judgement was tradition.  Bush, Reagan and John Wayne loving Republicans was tradition.  WWII was THE Great War and I was a dumb kid.


My mother once gave me, I think I was six or seven, detailed instructions on how, should I ever run into my aunt, uncle or cousins, I was to pretend not to see them.

But what if they see me?

They won't.


I lived in fear of running into my own extended family.

Until my uncle became my school bus driver.

"Hello Pumpkin". He said as I boarded the bus.

I half slunk, half scooted to the back of the bus.

Old Me/New Me (A Writer's Workshop Exercise)

I used to be dead inside.  Now I cry ... A lot  ....   I don't know why I cry so much.  It is certainly more than simply losing a boyfriend.  More than losing my parents. 

I cry both with positive and negative stimuli.  I lie down in my couch, positioned to wail and last only seconds.  I sit in a room of 400 people at a workshop I joined to affirm all of my dreams - my very existence and during a writing exercise, I blink back tears, fearful if they get a good toehold, they will never end.

I cry and wonder why it is such a bad thing.  Why it is such a shameful thing.  Why I feel the need to hide it.

I think of my parents and realize.

I don't think I ever really saw either of them cry.

Just another gift they never gave me.  

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Something Happened

On the way to being yours
I kept taking my own measure
And deciding I was leaving you
Short, I would try to grow

Something happened
On the way to being yours

While trying to love you as well
As you deserved, I built a woman
I thought could love you best
But now she's mine

I love her
Thank you

She became me

Monday, March 17, 2014

Sometimes II

Simply noticing that my own handwriting
is as neat as "the teacher's on the chalkboard"

the stupid archaic benchmark of a 40 year old child

is just enough

to make me smile

Sunday, March 9, 2014

and for a moment

After hours of bracing her
7 year old legs
Against the incoming wave
Later in the car, she realized
"I still feel"

"The sensation"

She could see nothing wrong
With a world where you
Could love something hard
Enough and long enough
That you could carry a bit of it

Back home with you
To borrow

For awhile

Life is

That old Vaudeville routine

Almost exactly


"Niagara Falls!"

Slowly, I turned