Posted in Poetry

Our Secret

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Our Secret. ©  LC 2016

A hot summer’s night.
Two shivering bodies hide
cloaked in the shadows.
Water. Drip-Drip-Dripping. From
swimming. Hearts do somersaults
as foreheads collide.
Warm tongues dance as mine
scrape metal braces– we smile.
As he runs home, late.

Photo Credit

Posted in Poetry

Innocence

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Innocence. © LC 2016

Countless hours in
my room spent–tied up in knots–
lost in innocence.
Trails we blazed like those before–
spent laughing at the dumb boys.
Flirting as we walked.
“I’ll never date him.” Though I
remember our first
kiss. Awkward. Silly. Just friends.

Posted in Blogging

Favorites

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“Favorites.”
© 2016 LC

You are a monster!
Deception- a web you spin!
Your eyes like fire!

You are no teacher!
Favorites– A game you play!
Not caring who hurt!

Stand against Bullying!!

 

Posted in Blogging, Writing

Day 19: Writing Challenge

Day 19: Writing Challenge Discuss Your First Love

My Basis For Love–

When I was younger I was “in-love” with the idea of being “in-love.” I romanticized the perfect relationship. Prince charming would come swoop me away on his charming steed, and we would live happily ever after like in those fairy tales my mother read me. We would live in one of those extravagant houses with a picket fence instead of a moat– not realistic. Have a couple of children. Never fall out of love because the fire from the spark would never die. That doesn’t happen when you are made for each other!

I had a lot to learn.

First Relationship–

My first ever relationship was with my best friend up the street. We played in the woods with other neighborhood children, rode bikes, played video games, and spoke on the phone.

His mom wasn’t my biggest fan, but we still hung out a lot.

I remember it happening in one of those “do you like me” notes– Check “yes or no?”  I could have totally wrote the song. Except it didn’t end on a good note. We had an experimental relationship based on what we thought was love, and no at sixteen I wasn’t doing “that!”

I felt like I had to rescue him from drugs. In the end, he was a jerk that ended up cheating on me, which led to me meeting my first actual love, but we remained friends for a while. His mother sent him to live with his dad a state away.

It didn’t help him. 

First Real Relationship–

The relationship I had with my best friend up the street helped prepare me for my first actual relationship. I would have never met the guy if he wasn’t a cheating bastard. Not that I am thanking him for it because this relationship wouldn’t end well either. However, they were learning experiences to prepare me for the real thing.

I met this guy through a friend. Five years older– it was appealing. It meant he had life experiences I didn’t have. It made him interesting.

He met me with his friend at my bus stop one morning. Other kids were around. I know how creeper that sounds now. What guy goes to a bus stop to pick up chicks!?

No, my mother didn’t know. Obviously. 

We talked on the phone, a lot. What teenage girl doesn’t like to do that! It is the best way to get to know a person. Even though I was up at 3-4 am on the phone, I still went to school.

At first, he didn’t want to date me because of my age. Sensible. But then, I interrupted his plans. When he canceled on me the first time we were supposed to hang out because he was “sick,’ I brought him something from the mall.

We were inseparable after that. He had problems. More problems than I had. But I gave him the best advice I could with teenager wisdom.

He was a mess. Into some bad things. Going down a bad path.

I felt like I should help. Eventually he cleaned his act up because I made him. He started working, and staying out of the bad stuff. Like drinking all the time. 

We started doing things with his family, and mine. His family accepted me, and it made it easy to help him. My family took him in also, and my grandmother loved him. For awhile, everything was peaceful.

But he had streaks of jealousy, he couldn’t trust. He didn’t have it in him. I couldn’t talk to anyone without him asking who I was talking to. He was paranoid about everything.

He said he was “screwed over too many times.” So automatically he assumed I would do the same. It was hard to talk to any of my friends without him there.

Couldn’t go anywhere alone. We worked together. So everywhere we went… we went together. 

Even though I felt like he was very much a part of me, I felt like he was isolating me. Like he had broken me in half. Yes, we had fun. We laughed. Had a great time. But the bad parts started to outweigh the good. 

I felt like I couldn’t be myself. Because there was no “me” anymore. There was just “us.”  I felt smothered. I couldn’t breathe. 

Sometimes he told me he had people “watching” me and “recording” stuff. Trying to catch me in lies I didn’t tell, and we would fight. I didn’t know until the end, but he was cheating on me with his sister’s friend.

And she was a bucket of nasty…

I did forgive him for it. He was sorry and we were together for almost five years. We broke up, and got back together a couple of times. But the last time was when he after he cheated, and I said I was going to college. I needed to be free.

And he let me go.

I didn’t think it would ever happen. Because we always found a path back to each other. But it wasn’t meant to be.

The Keeper–

I met “the keeper” three times over the course of my life, but I didn’t know he would mean so much to me then. Even now, it is surprising to me to think about how much we have grown over the years. How much we have endured.

If you sit back and think about your life, it is amazing how it works out. We met as children, as teenagers, and as people passing in a restaurant.

Before I met my husband, I was married and divorced. I was a single-mom. Alone for a year and a half when we met for our first date.

When he came into my life, he was a big-kid. Carefree. Responsibility wasn’t his thing. But he worked. He didn’t do drugs. Could leave the drinking. After my previous two relationships, the last two made the difference.

{I needed that. I tend to see the good in people, and the bad.. well. I try to help, and it was getting me into trouble. No, I never did anything bad myself. Just fell in love with some characters. I needed a good guy. }

When he picked me up at my door, I remember looking into his eyes. Like the ocean on a calm day. Though he was handsome, I didn’t care anything about that. He made me laugh. For being married and divorced, I was going for something different. I was looking beneath the surface. 

We would grow together over the years. Sometimes moving in the same direction. Other times apart. Though a constant force pushes us together– closer.  Love.

He isn’t always affectionate. Not like how others have shown affection in the past, but when he is I know he means it. I know his intentions. It flows from his heart.

Occasionally, I wish he could be more affectionate. But being the awesome wife I am, I forgive him for his absent-mindedness. Like he forgives me.

I don’t need to be smothered in affection to know he loves me. I find my needs are different as an adult than they were as a teenager. I’ve matured.

I don’t have to be groping him in public so everyone knows how much I love him. It’s cool. We both know. 

It is the little things that matter.

When I see him playing with our children being an awesome dad, my heart skips a beat. And I fall in love all over again. He is good with those things.

He is good at making me smile when I don’t want to. Especially when I am mad. Or if I am having a shitty day.

Because that is what love is. 

It isn’t always the touchy-feely. 

It is the feeling of someone close to you when you are sleeping. Waking up with them next to you, and feeling like you are home.  Until they pass gas… then you want to smother them.

It is being able to be yourself. Because they like you for who you are! In fact, they love you for it!

It is “you,” and “me,” and “us” too. It’s not just about “me” anymore. 

It is trusting someone with your heart. My husband allowed me to go to a funeral where he knew my ex would be. In doing this, he trusted me. My ex would have never allowed it.

Seeing my ex the last couple times, I knew I made the right choice. It only solidified the bond I have with my husband. I know the love Jer and I share is a different kind of love. The best kind. The forever kind. 

I don’t need an extravagant house or a picket fence to be happy. Even though a moat would be kinda neat. Just having each other and the kids makes me happy.

Love is falling in and out of love with the same person many times. I have learned this over the course of my marriage, and each time our relationship becomes more intense as we learn more about each other, and grow in ways I didn’t know was possible.

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Posted in Poetry

Why Do I Keep It?

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Why Do I Keep It?
© LC 2016

A tote full of silly, little things.
I’ve formed an attachment to.
Though I question their meaning.
Birthday cards, report cards.. old mementos…
Why do I keep it?
Fraggle Rock, Pogs, and Trolls.
Awards lying atop French and History tablets.
My hand prints and artwork defined by my young soul–
Set aside by my mother ’twas her habit.

Yet, I keep it.

Posted in Poetry

Precious Moments

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Precious Moments.
© 2016 LC

Almost 24 years have passed,
and my thoughts are with you, Dad.
I wish I could remember your voice.
The way you laughed at the times we had.

You were made of Super-hero stuff.
Larger than life in my eyes.
I miss our tickle-wars, and your picking.
Nanny telling you when it was “enough.”

I wonder what you would look like?
And how different things would be.
You just missed your 77th birthday.
You could teach Kayla how to ride her bike.

I think about how happier Mom would be.
The advice you would give your grandson.
You know how moody teenage boys are.
You have already raised one son.

Are you watching us from where you are?
I hope you are not in pain.
I would give anything.
To see you, again.

Until then I will remember–
the precious memories we have had.
For ten years of my life,
I was honored to call you “Dad.”

Photo Credit- DP

 

Posted in Blogging, Life

Happy Memorial Day!

Been making pies, and stuff!

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However, I wanted to wish everyone a safe, wonderful Memorial Day Weekend!

I know Memorial day isn’t about pie. It’s not about just the pie to me!  It’s about remembering our veterans!

I am thankful to those who serve and have served in the armed forces. Their commitment and sacrifice they make for our safety is honorable.

I miss my dad who served in the Navy– Korean War and Bay of Pigs Conflict. No doubt, we would be riding in some parade throwing candy. My kids would have loved that!

Last night, I watched my brother-in-law graduate from high school. Proud moment!  He doesn’t know what he is doing yet, but he will figure it out.

Six of his classmates signed on to work in the military. Of course, I was teary-eyed. It makes me proud, and anxious for them. Proud these high-school students stepped up to  commit to serving our country to protect us, and anxious because of the ongoing conflict around the world.

They had a moment for the veterans. Had everyone stand who had family in the service. And I remembered my dad, I miss him.  Grief isn’t easy.

As Memorial day approaches, I hope we have fun with our family and friends remembering those in uniform— they are the ones who sacrifice so much for us to eat pies and have cookouts so we can have a day off from work/school to have fun!

 

Posted in Loss, Poetry

Mornings with Nan, Prose

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Mornings with Nan, Prose.
© 2016 LC

Reading your Bible by the dimmest light, your hair falling down into little strands. Awake before anyone else. Having trouble sleeping, your legs aching and writhing– keeping you awake. So you would have toast with jam and coffee, I’d smell the fresh brew from the basement. Then, roll over and go back to sleep with a smile. Sometimes I’d awake to the smell of burnt toast. You’d watch the windows in the morning for red birds. They were your favorite. Or blue birds. You loved animals and enjoyed God’s creation. After awhile, you’d sweetly call me for breakfast with your West-Virginian twang. “Lynne, breakfast is ready,” you’d say! As I trudged up the stairs, you’d be standing at the top in your long flowery night-gown with flannel PJ bottoms. Your crystal blue eyes glistening in the morning sun light as you’d tell me, “Good morning.” Oh, how I miss those mornings with you, Nan!