Monday, March 21, 2011


     when we touch it is electric. achingly magnetic. soul to soul. breathe in,breathe out-now banished.
     i am a casual distraction. or at least that is the lie. i can't breathe without him. i draw in short,shallow gasps of air. short,shallow gasps of existence. dull,unsatisfying. my entire being feels dull,unsatisfying--as if it were waiting for his touch to charge it. his touch to electrify the current. his touch to restart my heart. blow the dust out of the corners. wake up trust.
     he has his own demons. some real. some conjured. i must wait. wait for the light to burn through the darkness he draws himself into when the demons get too loud. he use to reach for me. but it scared us both. i have too much to lose and he has too much to gain and the insanity of the issues just overwhelmed us both.
    so we are at arms length. and it is slowly killing me. i miss his smile. i miss his touch. i ache for his touch. my heart misses its home. broken hearted at arms length from my soul. i could die this way....

Friday, March 18, 2011

But for the Grace of God...

A friend of mine is burying her son today. He died in Afghanistan of an IED explosion. He died doing his job as a Scout. He died the Hero and gentleman she raised him to be. The Patriot Guard is escorting him throughout the trip from the airport yesterday to the funeral home, during visitation and then today to his final rest. Bless them their kindness, their protection from the possible cruel attitudes of others that have risen of late. I refuse to give those manner less, hateful beings who live within the freedom attained for them by deaths like this boys, while they curse and defame and are protected by that freedom any more notice to even mention their names.
Below is a very lovely tribute to Loren. May he find sweet rest and May his mother find rest as well. They have both given so very much.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Legacy Revisited

 Thinking about my grandmother yesterday got me thinking about my mother. And about all of the things I've learned from her and carry of her with me. I love my mom. She is awesome.
 The first adjective that pops into my head is respect. I truly respect my mother. She has been the center of my universe; my primary source of information, support and refuge; my rock. In first grade, my teacher told Mom , "Emily says, 'my Mother' like most people say, 'My God'. " And my mom can say "Emily Jane!" and I still jump. Right at attention, wanting to know what I did wrong or what is needed RIGHT NOW!
  My Mother is the Mother of all Mothers. She Mothers EVERYONE. And they LOVE it. Everyone around her knows Ms.Pat is the source of good things. Good advice, stories, jokes, love.  I know I have learned this nurturing attitude. This scoop up anyone who needs help. Give and don't worry about the return, from my Mom.
 In as much as I resemble my Grandmother, many of the checks and balances of myself come from my mother. Knowing to curb my temper. Knowing to wait and watch. Knowing to give and not keep a tally of what is due back. Forgiveness. Trust. Faith. Strength.
 Strength. That is something we seem to have in abundance. And it is passed from one to the other like our crooked chins. We loose babies, and husbands, and jobs and friends-and yet we still ARE, somehow. THAT strength I learned, I witnessed, I have drawn and I own through my mother, through her mother and on. It is a blessing. It sometimes feels like a curse when you just want to crawl into a hole and give up- but it won't let you. You BELONG to STRONG WOMEN. GET UP.
You are Pat's Daughter! You are Betty Lee's Granddaughter! You can do anything!
Thank you, my mother. For teaching me to be a good person and mom. For always loving me. For the honor of being your daughter. I truly adore you and thank God for you.

Wednesday, March 16, 2011


      #ificouldiwouldbringback is a trending topic today on Twitter. It made me think of Betty Lee. My grandmother. Whom I miss Terribly. I would most certainly bring her back if I could. I really miss Mama.
      Betty Lee has shaped me in more ways than any other person in my life. I am more like her than I am like anyone else in the family(and that is in regards to virtues and vices). I have her sharp wit; sharp tongue; temper; harsh,bitter, unforgiveness (which I try desperately to quell). But I also have her very generous, loving, nurturing heart; her cooking talent; sewing,crocheting(any textile crafts) skills; her crass sense of humor; her strength. Many of these things that grew after she died. Odd that the gifts revealed themselves as her legacy, as I grew into them. Self taught, self mastered, with Mama's sweet spirit at my shoulder, guiding me.
     Mama could be very critical. And sometimes that alienated people (even me at times) from her. I see that in myself. I have little tolerance for "perceived" idiots (stupid people) or bad service. I work VERY hard at controlling my first impulse to "cut loose" on these folks wasting my time or impacting my day- and try to remember I'm impacting their day as well.
    Mama could also be very generous, loving and was genuinely interested in being useful in the lives of those she loved. I am grateful to own this as well. Having a loving, giving spirit. Enjoying the act of giving better than receiving is a sweet joy and I learned it from the best teacher.  Mama could make the simplest of gestures seem like the most wonderful luxury. The memory of one of those very things is my fondest and most missed treasures of Mama.
   Me, feeling defeated, or sad or just tired; sitting on the floor by Mama's chair, my head against her knee, and feeling her stroke my head and gently run her perfectly kept nails through my hair. Slowly, drowsily, ever so gently. Just feeling her love and peace and unconditional acceptance slowly anoint my hurts, healing.
   Thank you Mama. Thank you for letting me know I was loved. For your gifts. For you. For the legacy of Betty Lee.