Writings

Nestled deep within my being is a passion for writing. Here you will find the musings of a convoluted mind.

Indian Summer

Dying sun clings to tree trunks,
like your footprints on the hood
of my 79 Nova, where we sit,
backs pressed to the glass,
cheap bottle of booze separates our thighs.

You are beautiful.

I watch words spill over the curve
of your Lakota lips,
and drift,
a Marlboro grey gift to the sky.

I yearn to taste them,
kumquat sweet and slick
with August humidity.

Jim Morrison begs you to touch me, Babe,
from the cardboard core of four rotted speakers.
I sing along.
You laugh, flick ashes into the wind
and shake your head.

I want to feel your hair,
lose my hands in those dark
waves that tumble across your shoulders.

Cornsilk soft.

Indian summer is fading,
there’s no need to speak about it.
You’re leaving next week,
and all that matters at this moment
is your hand, pressed deep into mine, and
this breath that we share
as we close our eyes and wait
for the stars that will lead us home.

In The Beginning...

Ok, so I'm an idiot when it comes to all things computer. With that being said, I'm also a fast learner, and a deep thinker, so this place will soon shed it's drab exterior and take on a personality of it own. Just give me a chance to feel my way around a bit first. Heh, I hesitate to tell you that I've already typed this once, only to lose it completely. Go figure.

The Background Stuff:

I'm a 27 year old college dropout, living in what used to be a small town on central Florida's east coast. I have a wonderful husband, Wilfredo, and a beautiful son, Jonas Alexander. We live in that little shoebox of a rundown house at the bend in the road. You know, that one that you pass by on your way to somewhere else and think to yourself "How the hell can anyone live there?!" IT may be small, but it's ours dammit! We share our space with three cats and a sweet old mutt named Mocha. Ours is a cramped, but generally happy existence.

When my family first moved here 14 years ago, I swore that just as soon as I graduated high school, I'd be on the first bus out of this dump. A college acceptance letter provided that opportunity, so my best friend, Heidi, and I blew this popsicle stand with a couple of bucks and our heads full of dreams. But dreams are poor fodder for empty bellies and homesick hearts, so after one semester, home we came, feeling a bit older, a bit wiser, and at the same time, a bit dumber from the experience. I wouldn't trade it for a thing, but I guess that no matter how much you think you hate it, home always calls you back.

And a good thing it does:

The next several years were a mixture of wrong turns and good mistakes that eventually led me to my husband. He was there the whole time...only I was too wrapped up in the wrong relationship to realize it. Then, in one very un-Angielike move I left behind everything I'd ever owned, gave up the security of a four year relationship, and took my chance on this guy. He has the most beautiful and gentle soul I've ever had the honor of knowing.

Having faith in a pagan sort of path, I firmly believe that life is one long series of lessons and trials meant to broaden your mind and your heart. It is only through the mastery of these lessons that we are able to evolve. Lesson one, for me, was to learn to let go of what seems like security, and to not be afraid of taking chances. As long as you follow your heart, you will be rewarded.

In May of 2002 we became pregnant with our first child. I'd like to think that she would have been beautiful. An absolute princess with her daddy's dark eyes and caramel skin. In late June we lost our daughter. I will never forget the beauty and love of those few weeks I was able to spend with her tiny spirit growing inside of me. I will never forget the pain of having to say goodbye.

Wil and I married in October of that same year. It was more to please our families than us. We were secure in our love for one another, and I had never been the type to dream of fancy Cinderella-white weddings, but that's exactly what we had. It was a lovely day despite the family rifts created by an oversight on the invitations. I honestly think that the rift had more to do with the color of Wil's skin and the deep roots of racism that run in my southern-fried family... but that's a different story now, isn't it?

A New Chapter Unfolds:

For my birthday last year, I was given my second chance at parenthood, and on August 12, 2004, after more than a month of bedrest, Jonas emerged from his warm and cozy slumber to the greetings of a room full of adoring friends and family. He is a perfect blending of my fairness and his father's features with eyes that laugh even when he cries, and a smile that could melt the polar caps. I never knew that it was possible to love anything this much. Every day he amazes me and fills the empty and shadowy places in my soul with pure light.
His young life has been filled with turmoil, from early illness and invasive testing to a mother who suffered a round of severe post-partum depression and three hurricanes that battered this town and took a substantial part of our roof with it. But the beauty of being young is the ability to adapt to the world around you, and despite how crazy things have been, he's done incredibly well.

Now that you are up to speed, I hope that you continue to stop by and take a gander at the random things that weasel their way onto the page.

And so:

My son cries out from his bouncy seat where he has been napping peacefully. He wails the bellyache wail. You parents out there know the one I mean... the one that can break your heart and pierce your eardrums all at the same time. I scoop him up and he rubs his reddened face against my shoulder in that agitated way he has. We dance the bounce-and-pat-boogie while humming a wordless tune. He stiffens, farts against the forearm that supports his heavy little body, and the relief is instant. His mouth contorts into a wide "O" as he yawns deeply, rests his head in the pocket of my neck and shoulder, and falls limp against my chest.

How could life be any better?