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Amy
I could have written when I woke up this morning, while the house was quiet and I was snug under my Christmas quilt. I could have told about all the things I’d eaten the night before, and how I was in no hurry to scarf down breakfast. I could have expounded on the many virtues of my host, or how Bowling Green has a few things I wish we had in Sevier County, Tennessee. Like the Tostitos Salsa Verde chips I was finally able to procure. But at least we didn’t have any kind of weather to write home about. I was thankful for calm skies this trip. I could have written from the passenger seat of the Ford as we made our way back home, via the circuitous path via Portland that pains me, apart from the giant strawberries and Hereford bull. I could have told you about the nice man at the gas station who has a truck just like this one, and how we wants a diesel F250 and a fifth wheel in order to travel indefinitely. I told him to go for it. I could have collected my thoughts, at least, so when I sat down to write tonight, in the soft glow of my still-decorated Christmas tree, I would have a real topic and an idea of what my first post of the new year should say. I would appear to you as a responsible adult with clear goals and the capabilities…
I spent four minutes watching youThis morningI won’t say wasted–But it wasn’t like I didn’t have anything else to doYou were mesmerizing!Think of it, a lowly wormCapturing my attentionAs you crossedThe handicap spotIn the parking lotI started to help you on your wayBut you were doing fineAnd I didn’t know where you were going, anyway,Although you seemed Very SureI watched over youTo protect youFrom a hungry birdOr unaware driverBut really I watchedJust for meWhere did you come fromWhat made you set out on this adventureHow far are you goingAnd once you got to the grassI breathed a little easierAnd you did, tooAs you took a rest under the leafAnd for a momentI thought I could hear you celebrate your victoryYou made itCongratulations, worm, and thank you…
No ships for me this morning No stroll for me today No bloody marys on the beachNo sunburn on the wayIt’s the tweeting of little songbirdsThe scolding of the squirrelsThe dew thick upon the fescueThe buzzards as they whirlThe mountains call me homeI see them in the distanceThe air has cooled the light has changedThe mosquitoes are persistent My old front porch beckonsAnd I reflect upon this lifeI’ll sit right here with my beerAnd bid the South goodnight…
Once upon a time, there was a girl named Anna.She always seemed so worldy, even though we were the same age. She delighted in being Southern, and knew all about growing a garden even though she lived in a house in a subdivision. She had a raspy smoker’s voice, even at 15, because she smoked. She smoked because her mother smoked, and her mother probably smoked because her father smoked. She was wild; she was as close to free as you can be at sixteen. Maybe it was because she had two older brothers and her mom was tired. Maybe her mom was depressed. Is there a difference?At any rate, Anna rarely said no, and was always available to run to Long John Silvers for a box of crunchies, sunroof open, ashes flying out the window as she shifted with her cigarette clenched between her teeth. There was always some guy hollering, and she, without fail, had a contact for buying cigarettes, booze, or pot. She was one of the first people I ever knew that bleached her hair with more than lemon juice and crossed fingers while laying in a plastic chair in the yard for hours on end.She was a little fast for me, and I didn’t see much of her after she dropped out to complete her GED.Anna had a tinkly laugh, a carefree demeanor, and would give you her last stick of Big Red gum.I saw her…
Oh, y’all. So, I bought this beehive for work. Well, work bought the beehive. For an educational tool. It’s pretty cool, I have posters with pictures and fun facts in the frames. Way more fascinating than the dumb Enviroscape. So I wanted to paint the beehive because it came as unfinished yellow pine. I wanted to paint it traditional white and then paint cute little colorful flowers all over it, like a meadow. And I’ve made two trips to Hobby Lobby for cute little bumblebee adornments and paint. And also, today, I visited Lowe’s for the plain exterior white paint. Did you know they make you pay for the little opener tool? 68 cents! I didn’t get one, I figured I could open it with a screwdriver. Where there’s a will, there’s a way, and generally, I can gather the will. After the hassle of getting our tax exemption number input to their system, I have returned to the office with my wares. I take the items back to the supply room where my beehive is stored. I’m not going to paint today because it’s too late in the day to start, it’s dreary and overcast and I’m not dressed for painting, nor do I have a bucket. I envision a sunny day, me out by the picnic table in a smock and beret, paintbrush between my teeth…
On April 25th, 2014, I visited two bedsides at the local hospital. One belonged to a friend who had just delivered a baby, the other a friend who was slipping from this world and reaching for Heaven. One room was joyful, with friends and family packed in among flowers and balloons, the other, quiet and nearly barren. That was a difficult day. But one of my more eloquent friends so gracefully reminded me that it was a great blessing to witness both new beginnings and near departures. So I’m remembering those wise words today. Yesterday afternoon, I was fortunate enough to witness my good friends’ daughter march across the stage, composed but jubilant, in her Valedictorian robe. There was much celebration and a few happy tears for this new adventure in Lindsey’s life. Lindsey is no slacker; she’s been brought up to be kind, first and foremost, and to study hard and work harder. Hard work pays off, and the little squirt is sitting on $50,000 in scholarships, not least of all from our beloved Patron Saint Dolly Parton. Next stop Rocky Top, as her mortarboard proclaimed. 5′ 2″, 105 pounds, and solidly 4.0 (even though she’s really a 10), FFA president and counter help at the Co-op, Lindsey is top of her class both literally and figuratively. She’s went from a timid little grasshopper of a child, to a poised young lady I…
People with a disregard for common courtesy often like to tout that you don’t have to explain yourself to anyone. And this is sometimes true. But I know how easy it is to have your feelings hurt if you’re just left out in the cold with no explanation for behavior whatsoever. So here is my explanation. I didn’t call you back because you called later than I care to talk. I didn’t call you back because I already needed to call my aunt back, and I had no intention of doing that, either. I didn’t call you back because I was fixing supper, and I wanted to read a minute, and I still hadn’t showered, and I had an early morning today. I didn’t call you back because I was afraid you’d want to talk a long time. I didn’t call you back because I’d had a busy, socially filled-to-the-brim kind of day already. I didn’t call you back because I had company. I was talking to my neighbor. I didn’t call you back because I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to talk to you. And there are your reasons, since you so desire them. So now I hope that the next time you want to ask someone why they didn’t call you back, you’…
So this is Christmas.I don’t know if I can write this with a dry eye. I guess it’s not necessary.It’s like this: Christmas is hard. None have looked like what I would have imagined even five years ago. Nothing is the same. But you know what? They’re all wonderful and magical and sometimes my life is so great I have to grit my teeth and close my eyes and make sure I never forget. Because, believe it or not, even I have dark days. So many people say I’m the brightest sparkle that they’ve ever known. And I appreciate that. But mental health can be a battleground between your demons and your angels and you have to find your path through.So carry a machete and get to choppin’ because it’s not that anybody has a perfect life. It’s how they deal with the problems that threaten to overtake them.Christmas can be an anxiety ridden time. Presents are bought that really aren’t affordable. Time is spent shopping for stuff nobody needs. The constant bustle of fulfilling obligations instead of reflecting on what the meaning of the holiday is.What are your traditions? Baking cookies with your mom? Hunting the perfect tree at a nursery? Card games Christmas Eve? Holiday cookie swap with your neighborhood friends? Making a trip to Biltmore or Opryland with your closest friends? Is it…
I watched himAs he sat In the top of a dead tree limbStill strong enough to bear his weightGazingFor at least three hoursFor movement And the drizzle continuedI eventually missed his swoopRocketing earthboundOr as he took to the wingHungryAnd still in searchOf that elusive mealA victimOut scavenging himself…
Thankful, Day 20I’m thankful for my Aunt Bren. She has always been my fun aunt, the one who made me feel so grown up by taking me to nice restaurants, and buying me trendy clothes, and encouraging me to participate in activities that would determine other aspects of my life. She set an example of reading for pleasure, always with a book in her hand on the couch when Uncle Dale was watching TV. I looked forward to the nights I spent at their house (exempting the eve of the juvenile deer hunt) because we would stay up late, just talking or playing cards. Uncle Dale always thought it was so funny that we look so much alike: curly hair, glasses, fair skin…and another, um, attribute that I won’t mention here 🤣 People always thought I was their kid.And I’m thankful for her sisters for always including me when they get together for holidays. That bunch is lively!! I can’t imagine growing up with four sisters. They share a very strong will but that’s where the similarities end. And that’s what makes it fun being around them.Of course I still enjoy spending time with my Aunt Brenda. Of course she influenced me heavily, seeing as how I spent so much time around her in my formative years. We both enjoy poking around antique stores and craft shows. We discuss books we’re reading (our tastes…
