At Last

September 6, 2013

I am the embodiment of anxiety

My mind has lost control,

My body is run wild

With the ecstasy of anticipation

The hope to see your face

The wish to touch your skin,

Soft and delicate beneath my fingertips

The world tried to hide you from me,

But I have found you,

At last.

Chapter 2: Sawyer

            “They got me another one,” Sawyer said.  Henry looked up from his dinner of red beans and rice and laughed.

            “Ha, another one already?  How long do you expect this one to last?” Henry asked.  Sawyer smiled briefly, a glimmer really, and then she threw one of her soggy carrots at his head when Baker had her back turned.

            “About as long as the last one I guess,” replied Sawyer nonchalantly.  She didn’t want anyone to think she cared about someone being her roommate at all.

            “Or the one before that, or the one before that?” chided Henry.  The words seemed harsh but not when she looked into Henry’s clear blue eyes and that mischievous smile.  Too much time cooped up inside had given Henry’s natural olive skin an almost sickly pale pallor, but nothing could ebb the intensity of those eyes.

            “Whatever, no point getting attached to another eating disorder.  They are usually all the same anyway.  Drama is air and tragedy is life to those girls, like I need more of that in my life,” Sawyer replied coldly.  She was scribbling in a journal but before she could realize it she had almost torn through the page.

            “Sure,” Henry said, still smiling.  “None of your roommates have mattered.”

            “They haven’t,” Sawyer declared.  “What’s one more?”

            “Then why don’t you buy a single room or better yet why don’t you just leave Sawyer?” Henry asked.  Sawyer stared down at her plate pushing peas back and forth.

            “I think I’m done eating, good night Henry,” said Sawyer.  “Jackass,” she called back as she left smiling.

            Henry grinned at her and waved goodbye as she avoided his question just like always.  She walked past a table of girls that conveniently held her new roommate.  Billie looked up at her and half smiled at Sawyer before another girl kicked her leg under the table.  Everyone at the table saw what happened, but Sawyer walked right by.  She would never give anyone the satisfaction of knowing they mattered to her.  She wouldn’t let anyone hurt her again.

            She could hear whispers as she left the dining room just like yesterday, and the day before that.  Sawyer often wondered how bored these people had to be to find constant fascination in her entertaining, but she shrugged them off once again because it didn’t matter.  Sawyer tucked her journal in close to her chest as she passed through the familiar gray walls.  Nurse Baker called the color ‘battleship gray,’ and it was supposed to have a calming effect on the patients, but Sawyer hated it.  She had never really pursued fashion or furniture in her early teens, but she’d spent enough time in hospitals to know gray, taupe, and beige were supposed to be soothing.  It was supposed to surround a hundred hearts that were crazy and broken with a bland peace registering gray to the senses.  How was she supposed to think in here with walls that had no life in them?  They have no life, Sawyer pondered.  Maybe they were right, lifeless walls for lifeless people.

            As she trudged down the hall she stopped short for a split second at the sight of Alice and Marley.  The tweaked twins, just what she didn’t want to deal with today.  She tried to seem nonchalant and steady as she passed by the TV room door where they lay in wait for unsuspecting victims.  She could just imagine Alice pouncing off the chair on all fours, nose flaring, fangs gleaming.  Sawyer had to stop herself from openly smiling at the thought.

            “Hey Sawyer, got a new roommate, huh?” Marley called out.  Marley was Alice’s only friend at Merry Acres.  She’d gotten here about a month ago and was trying to not let anyone know why she was here.  As if the scars on her arms weren’t evidence enough.  Sawyer and Marley were in the same group therapy class in the afternoons.  She would sit silently like Sawyer, but Marley was an eye roller, and whatever therapy was for Marley, the only thing she did was roll her eyes and tell people to leave her alone.  There was one exception for Marley and that was Alice.  Before she moved out Alice had told her that Marley said Alice reminded her of her little sister who had passed away.  Sawyer guessed that everybody has at least one weak spot; Alice was Marley’s.

            Alice looked at the floor while Sawyer plodded by without a word.  Sawyer found comfort in the silence, and not saying anything at all was a lot easier than facing the people around her.  Marley started whispering to Alice about the time Sawyer turned the corner to make the dull gray trek to the floral nightmare that was her room.

“Bottle it Up”

January 26, 2013

Who do we choose to be?

How do we choose to see?

The people around us,

The masks covering

The true faces we hide

From judgmental eyes

But in a life so short,

Can we really afford

To lie to the world?

To lie to ourselves?

But we don’t want to lose

What we think we hold most dear

Clinging blindly to things

We have already lost.

So we bottle it up,

Feign adoration,

Feign disgust.

All the while,

We die in our loneliness,

A little bit more.

Never knowing if our truth

Would be accepted

Or discarded, along with us

In this world,

Killing us softly

In its embrace.

“Morning Will Come”

December 11, 2013

The nightly shadows begin their dance up and across my walls,

Being tossed about to the howling of the winter winds where window light ebbs.

Drops of rain begin to fall with shallow breaths against foggy panes.

There are footsteps by the door, never mind the puddles, water will dry,

The air is stirred up, fresh for the storm,

Will it wash away the world?

Will they leave us here, untouched?

Night falls, shadows erupt across the room.

Looking up through lightless windows,

We see stars burst forth filling the night’s sky

A symphony of eternity, ripe on the stage of our galaxy, only for us, time unstuck

But night’s darkness cannot forever hold a grip, no matter how we beg,

Morning will come,

Oh if only my night in your arms might become eternal

The only sound remaining; shallow breaths, in entangled arms,

Beneath never-ending stars.

First Chapter of Novel I'm working on..

Chapter 1: Billie

            Billie couldn’t believe she was finally here.  Her mom and dad had threatened her before but she never believed they could betray her like this.  The sign above her head read Merry Acres Rehabilitation Hospital, but in town it’s just Merry Acres Crazy House to Billie and all her friends from school.  She always thought it was just the nightmare for parents to get their kids to clean their rooms, but that didn’t change the gray walls and flickering lights closing in on her as the doors closed on her freedom.  She could hear herself arguing with them for what felt like the hundredth time.  She didn’t have a problem and she wasn’t on a diet.  Her parents were simply overreacting.  She counted her calories, that was all.  She was being healthy for Christ’s sake, what did they know, fat cows, munching their way through life but not going anywhere.  She had goals.  She did, she just couldn’t think of any right now.

            “Name,” said the nurse at the front desk.

            “Billie Klein,” she answered.  The nurse looked at her computer screen blandly.  Billie figured she had done this too many times to give a crap anymore and wondered absently if she was happy here.  She didn’t have any pictures on her desk, but pictures of family probably aren’t safe in a nut house right?  Maybe the staff would be afraid what they could do with someone who wasn’t broken yet.

            “Personal items allowed are stuffed animals, books, slippers, bath items, pictures, and mp3 players.  Of course, all these things have to be earned.  Right now you have a set of clothes and a toothbrush that will be supplied by a staff member when you are in the bathroom.  Here, follow me,” she said.  “I’m Nurse Baker and I will take you on a tour of Merry Acres, your home away from home.  We will start with the nursing station.”  She was up and walking before Billie could blink and she had to run to keep up with her.

            “You will pick up your meds from the nurses’ station every morning after breakfast at 9:30 a.m.  They start serving breakfast at 8:00 in the dining room which lucky for you is our next stop.”

            She barely slowed down as she continued to explain the rooms that she and Billie passed on their sprint down the halls.  Yet, what really fascinated Billie was the faces residing in the rooms.  All of the faces were different but somehow the same.  There were a few older men and women, but the majority of the “clients” as Nurse Baker called them, were very young.  They were much younger than she had expected and there were actually guys here.  Sure the crazy farm isn’t the best place to pick up a date, but it wasn’t the worst either.  She’d seen documentaries of women dating serial killers while they were in prison.  That was bad, but still Merry Acres and the pale pajama wearing zombies walking past her or sitting and staring at her or at nothing at all weirded her out.  It kind of made her mad because she wasn’t one of them.  How could her family feel like she belonged here with all these freaks? 

She passed by a girl who was sitting in a chair by the door that led to the TV room.  She was small and quiet.  Billie noticed that half her head was shaved and the other was matted down to her skin.  Billie could tell she wasn’t white, but the answer to the question of her race didn’t feel like it could easily be labeled.  Billie could see it in her eyes.  This girl was ready for a fight, and Billie would have never made it through middle school if she hadn’t learned how to avoid those faces, and in moments of desperation how to imitate them.  She kept her eyes down and made sure Nurse Baker was between them when she passed the door.  The nurse never slowed down, and the girl never looked up from the open book on her lap.

“Well, I guess the last place you really need to see is your room right?” Nurse Baker asked, although Billie guessed most of her questions were rhetorical.

“Yea, I guess so,” she replied, doing her best to be uncurious and noncommittal, no matter how fast her heart was beating. She could feel her face begin to flush and her arms begin to tingle with the rushing blood in her system as she tried desperately not to panic.  She clasped a hold of her arms so no one would be able to tell that her hands were shaking.

“Because of hospital policy roommates are chosen with concern to their diagnoses being considered.  Don’t worry with your anorexia we won’t be placing you with any clients with hostile or violent disorders.  You will be rooming with Bekah Strausse.  You were supposed to be with Fern, but we had to move Alice last night,” Nurse Baker growled out the last sentence.  She quickened her step and began to talk about Billie’s schedule, and Billie guessed she had heard more than Baker meant to share.  So why did this Alice girl need to move so suddenly?  What was wrong with her?  Or more importantly, what was wrong with Bekah?

“Here we are room 4 on the corner.  Bekah come out and meet your new roommate,” she called as she knocked briefly then opened the door and walked in without waiting for a reply.

Billie wasn’t really sure what to expect when she walked through the white door, but she figured, got to find out sometime right?  She took a deep breath and then stepped into the room.  The crackling floral wallpaper was dingy in quality.  It reminded Billie of that story in school about that crazy chick who couldn’t take the yellow wallpaper.  Maybe it was the same decorator, she joked with herself to ease the tension growing in her chest. 

“This room is called, ‘Serenity Gardens.’  The staff gives every room a name to give them a homier feel to it,” said Nurse Baker.  Billie politely smiled at her while trying not to look that disappointed by the sparse condition of the room.  The small room held two twin beds, a nightstand with a lamp, a desk and what struck Billie as a very plain-looking girl.  She had done nothing to improve her appearance, and Billie wondered if it mattered anymore, especially in a place like this.  No one cares about make-up on the crazy farm.

“Bekah, this is your new roommate Billie,” said Baker.  “Billie Klein, she’s from Memphis and you will do your best to get along with her right Bekah?”  Nurse Baker seemed to be staring Bekah down, and Billie had the odd feeling she was missing out on an unspoken conversation they were having about her.

Billie looked over at the girl sitting on the bed.  She was slowly drawing in a sketchbook next to a stack of books.  Guess she has her privileges already, Billie thought to herself.

“Yes ma’am,” Bekah finally said.  “Nothing but hospitality here,” she said with an obviously fake half smile.

“Great,” Billie murmured as she wandered over and looked out the barred window.  She chuckled to herself.  No matter how much her mother tried to spin this place into a spa-like retreat she couldn’t gloss over the bars on the windows.

“What was that Billie?” asked Baker.

“Oh nothing,” Billie said.  She met eyes with Bekah, but quickly looked away.  She moved over to the empty bed and sat down.  She was aware of the nurse making her best effort at an exit, but she wasn’t listening.  She just looked at the tip of her shoes and waited for the silence.  Nurse Baker said something about going to see a doctor in the morning, then she quickly walked over to the door and left them alone in the room.  She looked up and was surprised to realize that Bekah was staring at her.

“What?” asked Billie.  She crossed her arms, and glared back defiantly.  “So what’s the deal with this place?”  she asked Bekah, not really sure if she expected an answer.

Bekah continued staring at her.  Her eyes moved up and down Billie long enough that Billie couldn’t stand it anymore so she got up and began to pace the shoebox they called a two person suite.  What a joke, thought Billie.

“So, what are you in for?” Billie asked, not pausing long enough for Bekah to answer.  “My parents sent me here because they think I’m anorexic, as if.  I could totally stand to lose a few pounds, but my parents want me to be just like them, you know?”

She stopped short when she had made the turn at the door and was again facing Bekah.  Billie couldn’t understand this girl.  What was her problem?

“Well, if you aren’t going to tell me about yourself how about you tell me about the other crazy people here,” Billie declared.  Bekah looked up at her, rose to her feet and shrugged.  She crossed the room slowly as if each step caused a certain level of pain. 

“Dinner is at 6:30.  Most of the kids go early and sit in the TV room,” said Bekah dryly as she crossed to the door.  She grabbed the knob and walked out.

“Okay, I’ll stay here, no really, I don’t mind walking alone,” Billie sarcastically replied to the empty room.  Something told her she’d be talking to an empty room a lot with this roommate.  A few moments passed and Billie’s growling stomach made her groan and stand up to stretch.  Usually when her stomach growled she went for a run, but she had a feeling dinner was not optional so she rose from her bed to follow Bekah to the dining hall.  She opened the door and almost jumped out of her skin at the grinning face awaiting her.

“Hi,” screamed the small girl.  Once Billie got a better look at the girl in front of her she could see that the girl’s hair was frizzy and bright red, almost orange.  Her entire body seemed to vibrate with energy, and her shoes had holes in the toes.  Her fingers were multi-colored with rings and fake nails, causing Billie to wonder how she got away with that in such a rule-ridden place.

“Hi, I’m Alice, what’s your name?” she bellowed.  Her voice seemed to come out louder than the girl intended and she appeared to lean in towards Billie to the point Billie had to take a step back.

“My name is Billie, ever heard of personal space?” she said.

“You’re Bekah’s new roommate right?  Boy, are you in for a wild ride with that one,” Alice said, ignoring her question.

“What do you mean?” Billie asked in spite of herself.

“Oh nothing,” Alice lilted as she started to skip towards the dining hall.  After a few steps she stopped and turned around to look at Billie.

“Bekah can’t keep a roommate, been here five years and can’t keep a roommate longer than a month.  You’re next,” she yelled on her tiptoes.  She turned around and began to laugh as she made her way to the dining hall.

“Awesome, just awesome,” Billie muttered as she walked into the dining hall for her first night in the nut house maybe she’d get dinner and a show.

The Rain

I hear the crack of thunder and the rain as it hits the roof of my small rental house.  Looking out my window I smile.  I reach for the phone to call you, it’s raining, let’s do it, but then I remember you’re gone.  I think, and I look back for you in the only place we remain, my memory.

            “We need to find some rain Bee, I love standing out in the rain, the bigger the storm the better,” Aaron said.  “Have you ever stood out in the rain?”

            “Ha, no.  I was always told that’s how you get pneumonia,” I answered.

            “Well, pneumonia or not, it’s one the best feelings in the world,” he answered.  “It’s the chance to be surrounded by noise and silence.  To be clean again, for what feels like the first time.  We can play music loud in the car while we spin hoping it never stops.”

“Come on Bee let’s find some rain.”

 He looked over at me in the passenger seat and smiled.  I smiled back nodded, and headed for highway.  One o’clock in the morning, bag of chips and Smirnoffs in the backseat, and my best friend singing along to our newest theme song, this is, that was the best time of my life.

            The rain begins to let up, but as the thunder creeps through the house, the only sound surrounding me, I step onto my back porch and into the yard.  Maybe just one more time, somewhere out there he’s standing in the rain too.  Maybe we can just stand in the rain together one more time.

A Day in Uganda

I have arrived safe and sound! The plane ride to Uganda was very long. After traveling to Houston, Newark, Brussels, and Kigali, Rwanda I am finally here. I made it with all my bags and a warm family to welcome me. It was almost surreal for the first 24 hours because I couldn't believe I was finally here. However, hugs from seven sets of little arms quickly made my new temporary home a reality. On my first night I awoke to the sound of birds and monkeys outside my room, and a mosquito net over my head. Everyone has been wonderful and I have loved getting to know the family members I did not know yet. For those of you who don't know I am staying with Kenneth and Kristi Williams and their seven, yes count them seven, children. Their names are Nevaeh, Rikot (pronounced: ree coat), Ezra, Zion, Israel, Selah, and Achuka (sounds likes it spelled).  It has been wonderful traveling through Uganda for the past two days. We are traveling because the airport where Camille (other girl visiting) is in Entebbe, but the village we will live in called Kacheri is over 300 miles from there. The family needed to pick up some supplies down South in the bigger cities so we are traveling through the lower region before going to Kacheri. Right now I am in Jinja (where Katie Davis lives, if you don't know her look her up, she's awesome) and we are staying at Arise Africa, a Christian guesthouse.  I am looking forward to getting to the village, getting unpacked, and starting a routine. It will be different than any routine I've had before, but I'm kind of looking forward to that too.  I brought presents for the kids, and we cannot open them until we get to the village, but they are chomping at the bit to get into that suitcase. I have enjoyed getting reacquainted with the Williams, and it has been so much fun traveling through the cities. The sights and sounds make me feel like an alien on a brand new world, but I can't wait to get to see and know more. Rikot is one of Kenneth and Kristi's adopted children, and I think she has taken a shine to me. I hope to post more soon.

How I Met Your Mother

My favorite show past, present, and future is definitely one of the very best shows I have ever seen. It is a treat at the end of a long day, and it feels like we've been friends for years. This is my tribute to you. I made a collage out of my dvd jackets. You guys rock! (retweet please) :)

One Thing You Should Know

So here’s one thing you should know.  Not everyone in life is going to like you, and I don’t mean little Jimmy in the 3^rd grade who teased that you had cooties.  I mean normal, everyday people that you may like very much might get angry one day and choose not to give you a chance.  Some may disappear and if you’re lucky that will be your favorite.  But if you are anything like me you’ll need closure.  It’s tough, but deep down it is important.  One day you are going to make a mistake and someone you care about isn’t going to be able to forgive you or your  boss is going to try to change you, and when you don’t budge because you know who you are they will try to justify their anger.  The easiest way to do that?  Blame you.  A lot.

They will tell you that maybe you’re too negative, harsh, unforgiving, angry, proud, childish, or maybe they just can’t stand to be around you anymore.  But when that happens I want you to take a moment, close your eyes and breathe.  Remember one moment, just one moment when someone appreciated you, even if that someone is simply yourself and smile.  Something made them hate, maybe it was your fault, maybe not, but you are not evil, you are loved and this?  In the grand scheme of life is nothing.  What counts is that no matter what, you live with integrity even when taking your lumps.  Know when it’s time to apologize and when it’s time to walk away.  It’s just like my roommate from college used to say: Not every subtraction is a loss.

Crossing the Yellow Lines

Just the beginning of a story. I won't have time to really work on it till this summer though.

The cricket chirped quietly in the early morning dew.  Clay leaned down slowly trying to get as close as possible.  The cricket chirped and chirped his heart out ignoring the giant slowly growing closer to his fragile seat on a small leaf.  Clay was fascinated with the sight before him, the crisp early morning air nipped at his nose and made his ears tingle, but Clay liked the cold.  He liked to watch the world slow to a stillness in the chill that froze the very air around him.  The cricket suddenly aware of his audience leaped from his perch and disappeared into the tall grass along the busy street where Clay lived. 

He rose from the ground looking for something new to occupy the time before the school bus arrived.  Clay and his family lived in a small town in rural Mississippi and that suited Clay just fine.  Clay was a boy’s boy, rough and tumble, always up for doing something in the forest or the ‘woods’ as Clay more fondly referred to them.  As he surveyed his street he suddenly realized someone was watching him.  There was a young black boy standing across the street two houses down from Clay and he was looking at him.  The house had been for sale the whole summer and Clay had noticed some moving vans in front of the house last week but this was the first time he’d seen who lived there.  He couldn’t believe his eyes. 

The boy looked about the same age as Clay but he was different.  He wore different clothes, the shapes and fit were different and if this was the first day of school where were his new school clothes?  Clay was uncertain what to do next.  The boy was just staring at him, and Clay began to feel beads of sweat leaping onto his forehead threatening to roll down his nose.  He leaned down again, and pretended to tie his shoes.  Both of them.  Twice.

Suddenly Clay was rescued by the roar of the school bus engine coming to a begrudging stop in front of his house.  He bolted across the street and through the doors with lightening speed.  Still Clay was not quick enough to avoid his grandma leaning out the door to wish him a fond goodbye. 

“Bye Clayborne! Have a wonderful day at school,” his grandma bellowed into the early morning air.  Clay blushed as he through a hand up in response and bolted onto the bus.

Clay quickly found his annoying friend Luca sitting alone near the back.  Usually Clay liked to avoid Luca when possible because Luca had the tendency to find trouble and sometimes trouble found Luca.  He trudged down the aisle and fell into the seat.

“What is up my man?” Luca screams into Clay’s ear.  Clay tries very hard and succeeds in keeping himself from punching Luca in the throat and proceeds to try to ignore him for the rest of the ride, but before the bus could get very far it stopped again.

Clay tried not to look in the direction of the front and quickly became very interested in Luca’s latest adventure story.  However, he couldn’t help but notice this new kid on his street sat at the front of the bus.  What kid sat at the front by choice?  Clay knew this kid had to be weird.

“Dude, are you listening to me?” Luca screamed into Clay’s ear.

“Yea, dude, you don’t have to scream,” Clay responded.  Clay shoved him roughly and turned to look out the window.

Collaging

a few collages I've done lately

The other side of the desk

            Looking out at her classroom, she paused as she looked at the faces before her.  Their eyes did not carry the weight of the painful years ahead or the mistakes that would haunt them.  The faces before her were clean, bright, and smiling at each other as they joked about things she could not hear and could not know.  She hoped things for their future, but she knew it would not be the things most people expected them to learn in freshman English.  She hoped they would learn to be kind, and to look outside of themselves to the things that matter. She hoped they would learn to be brave enough to fight for the things they are passionate about.  She hoped they would be fearless or maybe foolish enough to be recklessly passionate about helping others find peace and help in a dark world.  She hopes some will lose that hard shell that separates them from what they could be in another person’s life, and that some will never lose such an amazingly sweet spirit.  Looking out at her classroom, she paused and smiled thinking about doing this for years.

After the Rain

Why does the world seem so much clearer after the rain? 

It’s like we’ve momentarily shook off the dust. 

It’s as if we’ve almost caught a better world

By the heel.  Sitting in the gentle moss,

Surrounded by trees that smell like rain I can hear

The drizzling drops peck the leaves and limbs around me

With the pitter patter of calm. 

A cricket begins to sing her song for a captive audience,

Belting it out as if it’s her last chance. 

For a moment the world disappears. 

I wonder how God could make a world so complicated

Still radiate with such a simple beauty. 

In our awkwardly beautiful humanity

It bleeds through the seams every day

In the most complicated pursuits of happiness

Like our job, our money, and our friends

Finally boiling down to the simplest joys like

Family, home, and love. 

I’m not sure if we are ever supposed to feel as if we fit,

To be sure we have a handle on things after all this time. 

Maybe we are just supposed to jump in feet first

And sing our hearts out, no matter the song. 

I once heard that many people will die

With their music still trapped within them. 

I pray God will help us teach each other to hum,

To catch that better world by the heel,

Shake the storm from our shoulders

And sing as if it’s our very last chance.

A Memory To Be

    One day I'll look back at the memories of this house, these days, I'll smile at what I remember was fun or hard.  I'll see this was the moment I realized I didn't know anything, and when my gut made me think my choice was absolute and right I realized every choice was chance and every absolute was merely a guess.  I'll remember this time and place with friends and fights as my lesson that I can't and won't be the hero in everyone's story.  This was the place and moment I began to grow up.

The Anatomy of a Dear

     “Damn, I broke my finger,” she exclaimed.  She grips her hand both firmly and gingerly as she tries to inspect the once working hand now both stiff and aching.

     “Here, let me see,” he said.  He bent over her hand tenderly caressing the disfigured ring finger on the left hand.  “Well I guess that settles it, you won’t ever get married will you?”

      She looks up at him shocked at his blunt accusation.  “Why would you say that?” 

     “No ring I get you will fit over that break; you’ll do anything to keep me from marrying you even if it means breaking the finger that would hold us together.”

To Dance

“Prom, who needs it?” Michael claimed.  Molly looked at him and smiled as she turned her attention back to the tv.  “All we need is Molly Ringwald, you know you guys have more in common than just a name. An eighties marathon is all we need.”

            “Sixteen candles, Pretty in Pink,” Molly said.  She sat there thinking.  “Hey Michael, do you believe in past lives?”

            “Um, Molly, what’s wrong,” Michael said.  He looked at her and watched as a single tear slid down her porcelain cheek.

            “If there is I hope that in some place in time I was brave enough to dance, at least once.”

Creation Myth (written for a class)

How Man Found His Strength

Before the stars found their home among the skies, and before the oceans and lands agreed on their boundaries, the gods filled the heavens. Powerful yet foolish, they spent thousands of years merely reveling in vain beauty, but the king of the gods, Enago, wanted more in the cosmos to rule over than his body. He declared that every god and goddess create a galaxy to bring more glory to the heavens. The universe exploded into action, but two gods struggled to meet the king’s demands: Ulani and Fuzu.

Ulani’s mesmerizing presence struck Fuzu. He chased her across the entire universe trying to set traps among the blooming stars and planets. However, Ulani’s independent nature refused to be caged by his love. She set out into the void searching for an empty galaxy to avoid Fuzu’s relentless pursuit. She mocked his efforts, and a laughing trail of comets went swirling through the heavens, mocking him at every chance. Fuzu begged for Ulani’s love, but nothing worked. Her heart remained unconquered.

Hundreds of years passed and Fuzu’s chase for Ulani continued, but in his haste, Fuzu began destroying the worlds created by other gods. Furious, the other gods tried to destroy Fuzu, and war almost broke out among the heavens. King Enago tired of trying to stop the fighting with demand that Fuzu stop his foolishness, but instead of agreeing, Fuzu pleaded with the king to help him capture Ulani. Fuzu’s heart seethed with bitterness at Ulani’s constant mockery, and he wanted to destroy her. In hopes of creating peace and finally receiving a new galaxy from Fuzu, King Enago agreed to help trap Ulani.

King Enago went to Ulani’s empty galaxy and pricked his finger. A single drop of his blood created a planet without form, and Enago told Fuzu this was where he could trap Ulani. Laying in wait, Fuzu hid in the void waiting for Ulani’s return. As she streamed into the galaxy unaware of Fuzu’s presence, the existence of the formless planet startled her. As she examined the depths of the planet, Fuzu pounced and forced her body down onto the planet’s surface. Her eyes filled with terror, and she screamed out with such force that the galaxy began to spin. Her breath whipped across the surface of the land, the winds screaming to be freed. Fuzu, full of rage, ripped Ulani’s limbs from her body and forced them into the soil. All manner of plant life sprang forth on these new lands. Ulani pleaded for her freedom and cried the rivers into existence. The blood from her body mixed with her tears, becoming the waters of the earth. Ulani’s blood still dances in the waters at sunset. Fuzu ripped out her tongue and set fire to it. He tossed the burning tongue over his shoulder and it rested in the galaxy, creating light for the earth. Her hair and organs became creatures that roamed the world, mute of speech and intelligence. Fuzu’s bitter heart would not stop until he had completely destroyed Ulani’s freedom.

So, he plucked her right eye from its place and formed women to inhabit the world. He created a weak creature with all the cleverness of Ulani. And in true revenge, he tried to strip Ulani’s strength of will from her daughters. Ulani’s heart began to break as Fuzu’s plan took form. Fuzu plucked his left eye from his face and formed mankind to rule over Ulani and her daughters. He made their strength unquestionable, but his sour nature concerning the goddess also transferred into man. Lastly, Fuzu plunged his hand into Ulani and ripped her heart from her chest. Holding the heart above his head in victory, Ulani’s blood fell upon his face and seeped into his eye. With the union of Ulani’s blood, he realized what he had done. He looked on his sons and their mimicking actions inspired horror in him. Fuzu’s sons found their strength intoxicating and bore down hard upon the earth and its daughters.

Crying out, Fuzu raised his hand to strike down his sons, but King Enago shackled Fuzu’s hands, already loving Fuzu’s world. Fuzu realized he would have to watch Ulani’s daughters forever suffer under the wrath of his sons, and Fuzu in his sorrow began to cry with an attempt to flood the earth below. But man survived. After he failed to destroy the strength and cruelty of man, Fuzu ripped his own heart from his chest, and in agony, took up Ulani’s heart once more, burying his and Ulani’s heart in the earth. The hearts transformed into a seedling in a barren land that men had not found yet. 

Fuzu hoped one day that a daughter of Ulani would discover Ulani’s independence and seek the tree of conjoined hearts. If Ulani’s daughter found their tree and cut it down, he knew Enago would not be able to hold Ulani captive anymore and the prison walls of earth would crumble around them. Then Ulani would have her freedom. Now whenever the earth quakes or the seas roar beyond their bounds, men say that it’s Ulani trying to break free from her prison of Fuzu’s earthly grip. Fuzu’s tears still water the earth as his sons destroy the earth created of Ulani and her daughters that inhabit it. When the massive tree of freedom grows into fullness, and a daughter of Ulani treks across the barren land to find it, the chains will be broken and both mother and daughter will be free again.

Home Cookin'

     I cooked today.  It always reminds me of the kitchen where I learned to cook, and the woman who taught me.  It makes me sad sometimes when I cook to know she’s so far away now, but it’s that good kind of sad.  The kind of sad that you are grateful for because it means you had someone to care about and who cares about you.  And for just a moment you can catch a glance of those days in the corner of your eye.  I catch my breath and try to hold on to that warm Colorado sunshine lightly falling through the window; the dust dancing along the air.  I strain to hear the kids who are as close as brothers and sister out in the yard laughing and fighting like we all do as kids.  The dry air was perfect for baking, and I was honored to be there.  I smile as I remember my friends, my family, my home.  

Old Mr. George

          He was an odd man to look at.  I could tell in his prime he could wear a suit and he wore it well while he was in New York trying to make something of himself.  He had been a part of a group of Southern men who felt the need, had an obsession with going north and making something of themselves.  My momma had told me all about it when she explained Mr. George to me.  She said that while a few men stuck it out, worked hard, and made it that he hadn’t been so lucky.  He was determined to have a fairy tale life, and failing wasn’t an option.  What started out as a five year plan turned into twenty before he knew it.  He had failed at job after job and the girl waiting for him back home stopped waiting, and he kept trying.  Mom said that he didn’t stop until he got word that his momma had died and came home for the funeral.  Momma said that she saw him looking out at the Mississippi sunset and though it wasn’t much she said she saw his shoulders slump and his body sigh.  She said that’s when he gave up.

            I saw him now sitting in front of old Ms. Dorothy’s general store, but I never said anything to him.  Momma thinks a failed man is dangerous, says no telling what he’ll do when he has nothing left to live for.  He always made me wonder if I had or would have a fairy tale ending to live for, and made me fear what would happen if I failed like Mr. George.

Love of the Road

I like when people use journey metaphors.  It always makes me picture this long empty road in the middle of the desert leading to the most breathtaking mountains that almost don’t seem real.  I love that picture in my mind, just me and the stereo flying along, top down, wind in my hair, and I smile.  But the one thing that bugs me is that no metaphorical journey is like my mental picture.  Real journeys usually require a lot of walking and the path is never as straight or clear as my road.  And most, unfortunately, real life doesn’t have a soundtrack playing in the background.  Maybe that’s why I like driving so much.  For just an hour or two I can imagine life is easy even when in the back of my mind I can’t forget it’s not.  Maybe a few miles ahead I’ll find answers; maybe just around the bend.

Two Places

This was my first experience away from home for longer than a week or two at a time and when you spend longer than that you are forced to truly adapt to where you are.

You see:
You can pretend for a week even two but when you live somewhere; when you wake up and go to sleep somewhere and it becomes familiar, expected, then you have to become a part of where you are. Now if that place is somewhere positive and accepting then it is an easy transition, but if you are on unfamiliar ground, with unforgiving faces then you try to find a mask that will make the stay bearable, so that maybe they won’t figure out who you really are. They can’t be trusted with that. They may pass judgment over that mask, but because you know you didn’t show them your heart you can hold onto the truth that their critical analysis is a lie. However, in hiding yourself you lose yourself.

But if you can go to a place where love is ever-present, where acceptance is the rule and not the exception then you just might be tempted to put away that mask you’ve been wearing. You might squint from the sun that you can’t remember seeing in so long, and you may smile. The idea is strange to you; the fact that you are loved. You don’t deserve this love, you haven’t earned it and you certainly haven’t been an outstanding person recently. How did this happen? It hits you with just one smile, you are loved completely not because you deserve it, and you know they see you. A knot forms in your throat and tears begin to form in your eyes. What is this? You don’t cry. Still, there’s a chance someone wants to know you, someone loves you, not your mask, you. The walls around your heart begin to crumble; the anger and defenses melt as you are surrounded by laughter and kindness. Every day you are excited to see what the day will bring and when they ask the questions everyone has avoided before you tense up. You hesitate for a moment but then cannot help but answer, because you want them to see you. You want someone in the world to understand your pain. You make yourself look into their eyes looking for pity, but you don’t find it. All you see there is compassion and the tears for your pain. Before you know it you are surrounded by a loving embrace and you are crying too. This is healing you think, it has to be. It must because you’ve never felt more loved, safer and freer than you do at this moment. This is it, spring has come and you will not have to stay in the bonds of winter anymore. When you go somewhere and you are truly loved nothing can stop you from finding who you are, from flying.

Counseling, Who Does It Really Heal?

            “You couldn’t possibly understand!” she screamed.   “No one can!”  Marie looked at the girl in front of her with pain etched across her face.  She saw the tears fighting to escape Sam’s eyes, and how frantically she was trying to stop them.  She saw how desperately the girl was trying to cling to some kind of strength.

            “Yes, Sam, I think I do understand,” Marie whispered.  She leaned forward and locked eyes with Samantha.  “You feel violated, and your parents, religion, society, and even your friends have no idea how to help you make sense of that.  You’ve wandered so far from yourself and the truth you can’t even recognize it anymore.

            “As a girl you were probably raised your entire life to regard sex as something special, sacred, and to be kept under lock and key but within moments it was ripped from your grasp.  Worse, your body may have betrayed you in that moment and felt pleasure, confusing your mind and soul even more.  It made you feel like a whore, and it gave the words, ‘you wanted it and you deserved it’ merit.  You thought to yourself, maybe they’re all right.  Guess what?”

            She looked away, and a single tear slid gingerly down her cheek.  Her raven locks did their best to hide her face from your view.  Her arms braced against her chest for whatever truths or lies you have to tell her.

            “They are wrong.” Marie whispered.  Sam looked up slowly, and Marie gently pushed her hair off of her face.

            “What if they’re not?” Sam said.  Her face was a mass of conflicting emotions.  Sam was angry, terrified, hopeful, and destroyed, but Marie had been there and she knew there was hope.  She smiled at Sam and took her hand.

            “They are and in time we can find that truth together.  Would you like to tell me what happened?” she asked.

            “I got invited to someone’s house for a Sunday barbecue, and even though I wasn’t sure of the guy and his friends I went anyway,” Sam began.  “At first everything was okay, there was a big crowd with food and beer.  I got comfortable, and then I started drinking.”

            She hesitated, and guilt washed across Sam’s face.  Marie gently squeezed her hand encouraging her to go on.  Sam sighed and continued.

            “I didn’t realize how drunk I was getting until I looked up and almost everyone had left.  There was a guy there, and at first I thought he was cute.”

            She hesitated for a moment.  Marie could tell where the rest of the story was going, but she was unsure whether Sam was ready or willing to go to that place again so soon.

            “Everything’s a little fuzzy now,” Sam said.  Marie looked at her and nodded.  She knew that to a degree that was true, but she also knew Sam probably remembered more than she was saying.

            “Whenever you are ready, when you remember we can talk about it,” Marie assured her.  She looked down at the girl in front of her, knowing she was barely holding it together, and knowing there would be many horrible days ahead and a tear slid down her cheek. 

She began to smile though because she knew that eventually the days would become brighter and the memories would hurt a little less.  She knew one day Sam would make some form a peace with that day, and even though it would never be okay it would eventually be alright.  Marie had learned the hard way that sometimes she saw most clearly through the tears in her eyes.