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Good Mornin', Mournin'

Good Mornin', Mournin' Papa. Even the sun mourns you. But I bet the coffee is better where you are. Pt. 1 The two of us in a truck, in a classic car, in my car when you got too tired to drive.  You always let me be me, and I let you be yourself, brave and battered, an alchemist, a survivor. The dirt roads rolled out before us, we drove them with the windows down, Crimson and Clover crackling through old speakers, dust billowing in, and the west Texas skies turned to stare at us with rain in its eyes.      Pt.2 I love that dragon fruit became your favorite fruit before you left this planet.  I never left.  I'm still walking back and forth between the checkered kitchen floor and the blue carpet in your room.  Bringing your meds and those cookies you like.  I'm going through the channels, looking for a Columbo episode, or something with antiques or old cars.   Pt.3 I thought I'd gone with you the night you left. Remember??  We both flew past the pain and leapt with joy
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Recent posts

a letter to each of you.

I'm so happy I catalogued each of your looks as they progressed.  I have rested my head in my palm for half hours, just documenting each eyelash, the plump of your cheeks, the sweet slice of chubbiness under your chin.  I've told you how much I love your teeth, and studied strands of hair.  I know the exact brown of your eyes, every little amber fleck, and I love as they grow lighter as you laugh, and dark chocolate when you get frustrated.  how the light in the room looks for you.  and the look in your eye when you're about to jump and make my heart drop out of my own chest.  but it's always too late when I say no.  and you always land.  all of this is called love.  and I want to say thank you for letting me be your auntie.   Love,  nano
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on purpose (busy woman)

I'll work until I'm no longer able walk until I'm no longer able Speak this written language I've come to trust more than memory. keep secrets I've long forgotten, including my own. and mama, I've got so many. make mountains out of mohills, see I already know balance doesn't exist - and how irrational it is to search for it. --I stay up late, later than what you think late is, later than that, motherfucker. next day carry out the impossible, surviving on just caffeine and sugary treats. blame my headache on the drop in barometric pressure I tell people when they ask, I'm delicate like that. except that I'm not. All I really ever aim for is freedom, to be set free. from my first breath, I've only belonged to myself.... until my last, I'll only belong to you.. until then, expect this: snickering toile crying hard misbehaving smoking planning dreaming watching trees missing the ocean misreading gestures, until I
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ode

We plan to leave this house in 7 months or so.  We've been here going on 9 years; this is the longest I've lived anywhere since I was a kid. This little, grey house on the corner, built in 1938, is not without it's  charm...hardwoods, nooks, built-in shelves, scalloped wood detailing, and trees outside that grow lush for summertime. When it's windy and warm, the song of their sway goes deep into your lungs and breaths for you, if you let it. In the Fall, you have all pecans you need for Thanksgiving, all the time giving.  The front door faces north, so when a cold front rolls through, the wind pushes our old door in, and the windchime, typically lazy, becomes frantic and loud.  This is how I know to reach for a warmer jacket.  What she lacks are washer/dryer connections, and I'm officially over the laundromat, truth be told.  She lacks modern heat and air.  The summer is dreadful, but the watermelon you cut up and eat on the front porch is all the more sweet and sat
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tuesday

If you hear music loudly at 930am.  On a Tuesday.   I don't have your schedule.  You see, I don't have your life, I have mine.  I actually have no idea what day this is.  I don't even know if it's day or night because it's been raining and because I stay up until past 2am and because sometimes I don't drink coffee until lunch for the first time that day and because I forgot.  I.forgot.all.of.it.
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the day

Four years really? since my last post.  My beloved Dirt Verse, I'm returned to you, lay myself at your feet.  Can't believe, wait I can.  that I neglected and denied myself.  Here is a time where things can and will turn one way or the next, this age, this time.  And like many of my beliefs, I am smack in the middle of packing up and never coming back and planting roots.  Ok here goes:
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black and white

I decided to watch a black and white movie alone.  I love doing that because I love b/w movies, and it makes me feel like my mother is watching with me.  Sometimes I'll even ask her questions.  And I wonder if my husband will hear me speaking to myself and wonder why.  "mom, who's that actor?" sometimes I look around to see if maybe she decides to answer me.  from up there.  tell me things about this movie no one else would know.  because they aren't movie people like us. a few nights ago I fell asleep. and then the darkness came with the fear that likes to rent space inside my heart, the scared piece of it.  the smell of fear in my nose and on my tongue. I woke to the acrid air, my lips mumbling. I know it's that damn couch that likes to give me nightmares. falsely lulling me. black and white movie music. until I feel shaky and sick. but I can't tell won't ever tell what happened in that bad bad dream. those are words I don't dare s
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