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Showing posts from September, 2021

The Sand Box

 I cleaned out your sand box today. Toys faded and crusted, like what you see on the show Hoarders.  I smiled as I held each cup, each shovel, each mold that you used to create masterpieces. How many hours did you spend, sitting in the shade of our trees, your toes digging in deeper to the cool sand. I wiped tears off of my face as I remembered the mountains you erected with your construction trucks. And then one day, it was the last. Too bored? Too big? Too cold?  If I knew that day would be the ending, would I do anything differently? Even as I celebrate the pre-teen-you, my heart aches with sadness over losing the child-you. I wanted to memorialize each and every one of those little trucks. Place them on the mantel as an alter of days gone by. Instead, I placed them in a trash bag and put them on the curb.   I wish I could go back to that last day and whisper in my ear, "One day, those beloved trucks will be discarded and you will place them in the trash. So,...

Every Time You Leave

 I still cry every time you leave for more than a day. Like a little girl, tears running down my cheeks. I love the exact color of your eyes and the wrinkles surrounding them that continue to deepen. I love how you try to pop your back by bending at the waist-- all of the time, even at important events. I love making off-color jokes in front of our oblivious children and then catching your eye and seeing the barely-there smile on your lips. I love when you poke fun of me and how you'll let me poke back. I love how you keep your word and can remember whole conversations word for word. I love rubbing my hands up and down your arms and feeling your coarse hair. I love how you massage my nipples--just right--and how aware of my pleasure you are. Our bed will feel like the entire ocean with only me to navigate it.  Our house will feel silent and empty even though there are still people here. Dinner will feel perfunctory instead of fun and adventurous.   Life is missing wh...

A Letter to My Second Husband

I was married to him for 3.5 years, which seems like nothing compared to the 13 years with you.  But I still remember his birthday and our anniversary every time the calendar shows it. I still remember what his fingers felt like laced through mine. I still get a little silly when I think about that first kiss in the fog with him. Traces of him still remain, even after 14 years of showers and living and actively trying to forget.    I so much want to be a virgin bride for you--untarnished. Yet here I am.   And I know that I am a complete person, unlike the metaphors I heard growing up in youth group about how my heart isn’t whole anymore or some other bullshit but I really hate that he took so much from me.  That I blindly followed him and allowed him to take so much from me.   Marriage is an act of faith because you really don’t know who you’re marrying and for me, my act of faith exploded in my face.  I saw glimpses, but I was told that divo...

My Neighbor

 Her baby boy, son, was convicted of sex crimes. People pulled away in horror anytime they saw her. Whispered behind her back, "Do you know what he did?" People who claimed to love the sinner, stopped loving her. So, she hid.  Content to commune with her plants. Watering them every day, pruning, fertilizing, adding supports. It's how she raised her son.   Do what needed to be done to raise him so he would shine. And look what he did with that. She doesn't talk to anyone anymore. There is too much grief, shame, revulsion in herself. She is only visited by her son's children. They bring energy, laughter, a break from the mundane.   Grandchildren don't fault the grandmother for the mistakes of their father.  I was slow in learning about what my neighbor was going through. Once I knew, I played dumb.   Waving at each other as we watered our plants.  Discussing landscaping ideas and names of flowers. My daughter loved to play with her grandch...

A Few of My Favorite Things...

Steaming teacups with painted dog faces. Early lonely mornings with soft light and quiet. Words that flow through emotion and experience and land perfectly on the page. Voice and lyrics swirling together in the beautiful cacophony of music. These are a few of my favorite things. The giveaway twinkle in his eye as he plays another prank. His thirst for knowledge and tazmanian devil spinning to another topic. His childish insistence on protecting me. Slurping his cereal every morning as he reads the comics and giggles. These are a few of my favorite things. Her leg stuck out, belly in, hands erect by her sides, chin up as she poses for any photos. Leaping and skipping to a new song that catches her attention. Selfless giving of possessions to anyone who needs a little lift. Wrapped in blankets, her wet hair dampening my shoulder, as we tell stories to each other. These are a few of my favorite things. His smile transforms his face as the light laughter passes his lips. The knives chop an...