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Amy
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…
Thankful, Day 6 I think I’ve talked about divisions before. Like, when you’re having a conversation with someone (or maybe just one in your head), about when something happened. I’ll often say, “Let’s see. That was when I was working at the Co-Op the first time.” So that means between 2001 & 2005. Or I might say, “That was after I got married.” Okay, so after 2012. Y’all probably use the birth of your children to figure stuff out. Our biggest life changing moment should be the day we are saved. That is a truly life altering day if you’re living right. So this day is one of extreme importance as well, a day that lives in my mind as a mark on time. It is the day I lost my Uncle Dale. One year I have been without his guidance, his stories, his pestering, his laughs. One year has passed since I’ve told him any tall tales of my own, or eaten his grilled chicken and deer steaks, or performed a requested chore. One whole year I’ve lived with a new hole in my heart. As he would say, “All I know to tell you is you’re gonna have to get tough, Pilgrim.” But all I’ve ever been was wimpy little girl. However, in the spirit of being thankful, I can say…
I could write about unrequited loveOr barely suppressed hateFor I have both in spadesThis unseasonable November dayBut maybe I won’t write about either- Since it’s expectedAnd will purge insteadOf the act of cleaning my teethMeticulously Or how about How badly I desire Oreo cookiesPerhaps I should be the one to sayThat really the leaves weren’t that striking this yearAt leastNot where I stoodBut you are still waiting aren’t youFor me to fulfill the emotionHeld in checkShould I tell-Neither are a secretNot in the traditional sense But noIt’s like how I have been wanting to watch a movieBut I won’t Because then you wouldn’t have your poemAnd have your poem you shallI don’t remember what I set out to doBecause it is now January All the color faded from the worldAll the glitter and sparkles packed awayFor another yearAnd where will it find meI sat out On my birthdayThe halfway point almostAnd gathered my courageAnd walked to the edge of the yielding limbAnd JUMPEDI couldn’t bring my words backI didn’t want to anywayAnd even though they weren’t repeatedI still know the truthEven though you pretend you don’t And yesterday Proved something else I thought I knewBut it turned my stomach unexpectedly More words that have been spokenAnd won’t go backYears of loaded looks Harmless flirtingBut is it harmless, really?So here I am Writing more wordsConvincing myself it’s all realThat love still existsBut it rarely comes…
I wish I could hate himThat’s what the poems would sayIf the poets were honestBecause it’s too hardI don’t have the energyTo be ScarlettNor do I haveThe sensibility I can’t help my heartAnd it rarely helps meBut the poets will gather their willAnd their quillsAnd find a quiet cornerOr perhaps a bench under a willow treeTo bleed their soulAnd maybeIf they really meant itThey’d put rocks in their pocketsAnd walk steadilyTill they were over their headsDying beautifully And tragically Just like their poem said they wouldProbably the daffodilIn their lapel Wouldn’t even lose a petalAs they flung themselves off a cliffBut me?In a rageMy hair wild and unbound and unbrushedFlinging crockeryAnd maybe a high heeled shoeSpitting venomSo harshlyMy throat would be sore for daysHaving a plan that involvesKerosene and a matchbookFrom a bar calledThe Wayward ThistleAnd a knife clenched between my teethAnd yetI remember to be a ladyAnd so I sit placidly With my sonnetsWriting about unrequited loveAnd bourbon cherriesBecause peaches are overdoneJust like roses…
I have satAnd I have lainAnd I have wallowedAnd I have stretched Upon this couchOn this porchWhere I have heard children shriek on the other side of the fenceAnd sprinklers hiss and spit like snakesAnd trains clatter and roar to their next destination And watched From this perch a few feet above earthwormsTornadoes rip apart livesLess than three miles awayAnd bugs fry on the blue light Just thereAnd I have sweated directly underneath this fanGuzzling beerBut it was worth it Just to sit and be at peaceBut this weekend I have been wadded in a blanket In the early hoursAnd it was perfectionWith my red wine and book As the night got deeperAnd nowOn my last nightI write this poemAnd wonder why people need TVs…
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This is going to come as a shock to most all of you: I used to not like pit bulls. I know. Hard to believe, innit? But it’s true, Scout’s Honor. I thought they were ugly, number one, and number two, vicious. I didn’t need to know anything else. Well. Then as most of you know, I met a dog that changed all that. He was 5’10”, had blue eyes, and a propensity to drink too much. Hahaha. But honestly, a love of pit pulls was spawned with that relationship and the love of the bully breed certainly outlasted the marriage. Sugar was my first encounter with the Staffordshire Terrier. We pittie people say that to throw people off. Pit bull is a generic term used to describe a bulldog with certain characteristics, like a muscular build and block head. Sugar was papered out the whatsit. She was one of the most pedigreed dogs I’ve ever known. And dumb as a river rock sittin’ on the bottom, growin’ moss. (Credit to the late Uncle Dale) She honestly didn’t have enough sense to get out of the rain. She could eat more than any dog I’ve ever seen, which is unusual for a dog that’s never been starved. She was steel gray, and virtually impossible to see after the sun went down. Loyal, loving, and impossibly stupid, she would lope around outside…
I had to give my dog one last pat And rub those velvet earsJust one final time before I left my sanctuary And I had to be extra careful walking down the pathAs it had rained last night and Jewel colored leaves were stuck making my way slickThen I stopped to have a discussion with my neighborAbout the woolyworm she found on her porchWhich of course led to talk of the impending winterAnd so then when I finally got in my carWithout my coffeeI had to find just the right song to start my dayAnd as I drove inI was mesmerized by the fog rolling steadily across the mountainIt wasn’t so much the colors that stopped meOn the side of the road to take a blurry picture As it was the way the light was sparkling so clear With the mist continuing on its journey Nothing delaying it Unlike myselfWho had been interrupted half a dozen times already It is Fall Break after allBut I didn’t go to the beachI stayed right hereWhere I belongAnd I thought of how some people get itAnd it’s second nature to use certain phrasesAnd it’s musical These mountain waysSo anywayThat’s why I’m lateAnd it didn’t help that I hit snooze twice…
