Saturday, October 29, 2011

Baby Happy

This past year and a half has been a good one.

 A sweet one.

And a stressful one.

We have been going through a financial storm of proportions that seem at times epic to us.

Life is filled with constant expenses,  alot at times of the necessary variety, and the husband and I trying to figure out how to creatively cover it all.

I understand now the deep effect money can have on marriages and family.

I marvel at my mother who raised me alone on one income while we lived in an expensive city. I realize the creative ways she kept me fed and clothed and even have figured out the ways in which she sacrificed for me.

This past year and a half, there were lots of moments when I felt like life wasn't good.

That this isn't a good time in our lives. Stressing over how we're going to make ends meet in moments makes this seem a dark period in our lives for me.

 I have cried in moments, even.

Then I remembered to pray, which helps a ton.

And then this happens.

And this.

Sweetness,  and this.

Oh gosh, and this!

Which makes me all happy and warm and fuzzy inside.

Just fills me with joy.

And makes me realize what a magical year and a half this has been.

This bright spot with the hazel eyes and chubby cheeks, with chubby belly to match.

Of course, there have been a whole bunch of other bright spots which include the husband and the two older boys - the beauty and blessing of the amazing family I get to have...

...but I get a daily dose of this baby happy, and it gives me perspective through the storm.

For sure, it does.  

Friday, October 21, 2011


When you open your eyes you will find yourself suspended over a vast abyss of darkness, darkness that is floating up now to surround you.

This is inspired by a prompt from Write on Edge that asks you to compose a post in the form of a text–160 characters. Your text must elicit or express fear.

Write On Edge: Red-Writing-Hood

Monday, October 17, 2011

Colorado Autumn

Every year, for me, autumn evokes bright sunshine over crystal clear days.

Stepping out of the car with a view of not-too-distant mountains

And onto a farm called Cottonwood.

Surrounded by bright orange pumpkins laying on fields of brown and green.

Little boys getting lost in hay bale mazes while

Grown-up conversations happen on the sidelines.


Little boys wandering the patches looking for that perfect pumpkin. 

Bright smiles.   Squinty eyes.  Aimless walks.

Then leaving to go home with our pumpkin booty. 

This is inspired by a prompt from Write on Edge which asks to write a piece on what autumn evokes for you. 

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Double Infinity

This is the continuation of Alex and Kayla's story.  It picks up from when we last saw them in Memory. Oh, and if you want to start from the beginning with these two you can find them here and here


Alex caressed that spot on Kayla's neck, the one with the tattoo of the "A" wrapped in a New Zealand Koru spiral, representing his love of the Maori culture.

He touched the same spot on his neck, his fingers softly caressing the "K" in script intertwined with honeysuckle.  That was Kayla with her favorite flower.

The deep blue ink still popped against her chocolate skin.  They had gotten these tattoos a mere month before the accident.  The "A" was the only one in addition to the double infinity on her right wrist that marked her body.  Alex had a matching one of that one too.

Double Infinity.  Twice forever.  That was how long they would love each other for.

"No more ink, Alex," she told him as her eyes watered with the stinging pain on her wrist.

"No more, baby.  I promise."  He  grinned, elated that she agreed to get the two.   The funny things love will make you do.

"You'll get more, though," she said.

She was right.  He would.  He had elaborate Maori designs on both upper arms and across his lower back.

"Your tramp stamp," she often teased.

He wouldn't be able to help but add to his current set.  But that "K" and the double infinity, those would remain his favorites.

He leaned in and kissed her on that spot on her neck, then laid his head on her sleeping form.  She was three months into the coma now.

He had only a few hours left before he needed to leave and be on set.

He took her right wrist in his hand and put it to his lips.

Twice forever, Kayla.  Remember that.  You just need to wake up, baby.  

Wake up. 

This piece is inspired by a prompt from Write on Edge which asks us to write a piece in which a tattoo figures prominently.

Monday, October 10, 2011

On My Own

I sat on the toilet, in the bathroom stall, bent over.   

I heaved, silently sobbing.  

The memory lingered.  I could see the scene now through my tears. 

The black car.  My godfather sitting in the driver's seat.  My mother and I standing nearby. 

"Okay, make me proud.  Be careful.  Study hard."  Her words. 

We hugged.  The anxious pit in my stomach lodged tight. 

It was just us for 17 years of my life.  She raised me on her own.  This would be the first time we would be living apart. 

She released me.  

She would head back to New York City and I would stay here in New Orleans and begin my first semester at Tulane University.  

I tried not to shake.  I held the tears that formed in my eyes in check as did she. 

My backbone, my support would not be there now. 

I was on my own. 

The memory faded as I bent my head again and cried silently. 

I was alone.  Would I make it? 


Two months later, I leaned against the phone booth. 

"It's good, Mom.  It's all good.  I'm doing great.  An A on my first test in Biology.  B on my first chem quiz.  I'm settled in here at the dorm." 

I nodded, taking in her last words.  

 I responded.  "Yes, I will.  I promise.  I'll talk to you soon.  Bye."

I hung up the phone and left the booth.  

I walked the long ornate hall of the girls' dormitory lobby towards the winding stairs at the end of the corridor.   

It was home to me now.  

A calm, settled feeling washed through me as I climbed the stairs, my dorm key in my hand.  

This piece is inspired by prompt from Write on Edge which asked to write a memoir post inspired by the statement "“The scariest moment is always just before you start. After that, things can only get better.” - Stephen King, On Writing


Sunday, October 9, 2011

When The Words Are Short

When the words are short.

Impatient. Full of frustration.

When the attitude is strong. Harsh. Unrelenting.

And the cracks in The Mommy show through.

Thank goodness for apologies.

And hugs.

And kid-like short-term memories.


And love.


Unadulterated. Unconditional.