“Therapy”


“Therapy”

My cup runneth over
it spills onto the page;
pools of tears
run the ink,
that’s just been freshly laid.
Words beneath the surface
clinging to the dark;
hiding there,
like a child
a net inside my heart.
The pen gently coaxing,
with each jagged stroke;
hurt confessed,
hidden fears
opened box of hope.
Time of tortured struggle,
gently lay to rest;
between lines,
dampened page
a raging rivers crest.

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Today is not the day


A caricature hangs crooked outside the closet door.  One we had drawn at Disney World in Florida.  It’s held there by one push pin.  You know the kind; one you would use on a bulletin board.  The corners were bent and a little dingy from falling off the door so many times.

I looked at the picture for several minutes right were it hung.  The shy lope-sided grin with a little cow-lick just above the right eye.  He was wearing his “Texans” team shirt with the neck that was a little stretched out.

I can’t help but smile as I remember the trip and how upset he was when he discovered he had left the drawing in the hotel room and we were to far to go back.

Like any good Granny would do; she called the hotel……………………

“Please look and see if you have it.  My grandson is so upset.  Yes, I’ll wait.”

I remember driving as my mother sat on hold with the hotels front desk waiting to hear if they had found the drawing………..

“You do?  Can you please mail it to him?  Thank you so much!”

My mother gave the hotel my address and assured my son we would get it.  I never expected to see it; but of course I didn’t say this out loud.

A couple of weeks later my son got a large brown envelope in the mail.  Inside it was his Disney drawing.

He was 13 at the time and it wasn’t cool to get excited over something like that…………but I knew he was.  He promptly hung it on the closet door.  Oh, it moved around the room over the years but somehow always ended up back on this closet door.

I carefully removed the push pin and took the drawing down.

He’s been gone for almost 3 years now; out on his own.

It’s time to clean out the closet.

Quietly staring…………………………………it’s a small closet, but where do I begin??

The floor was knee deep in stuff.

Why do children think the closet is the garbage can?  An empty, plastic, Dr. Pepper bottle, plastic wrappers from Pokémon cards and baseball cards; price tags from clothing, empty coloring books and a number of plastic Wal-Mart bags.

I do believe when he dressed he simply threw the hangers in the floor………………….it must have just been easier.

I couldn’t get to the floor for all the hangers.

Crawling around collecting the trash, while piling up the hangers, I picked up a pile of papers.  Sitting back I begin to sort through them.

They were grade school papers; 3rd or 4th grade maybe, and in the middle of these papers was a hand drawn Mothers Day card I had never seen.  Drawn on the front; so carefully, were the words “I Love My Mom, Happy Mothers Day, Daniel”, it had a race car with 3 pink balloons.  Inside was a big red heart with “I Love My Mom” on the inside.

I’m not sure what age he would have been, an age that they still used manila paper and crayons for drawing.

Smiling though my tears, I thought it best to keep that pile of papers; so I stacked them all together and sat them to the side.

The boy had shoes without their mates???  How do you lose ONE shoe???

They can’t even be put in the donation pile.  I had no choice but to put them in the trash.  It hurt my soul to have to do that!!

I’m beginning to see parts of the floor and it looks like I’ve gotten all the trash, when I see the edge of what looks like a squashed paper bag.  An empty Lego bucket is sitting on top of it.  Reaching over to move the bucket to the trash pile; I see the squashed brown paper sack has a green, cut-out construction paper Christmas tree on it.

As I pick it up I feel something inside it.  Turning it over it had crayon colored candy canes and stars that he obviously colored, cut out and glued by himself.  Smiling, I’m thinking this is a bag from a classroom party with party trinkets inside.  Upon closer examination the bag had been stapled shut (by a child) and a present sticker was on it.  In faded writing it said, “To:  My Mom and Dad” ~ “From:  Love Daniel”. 

My heart skipped a beat, I had never seen this bag before and it had never been opened.  Standing alone, I carefully opened the bag and found a hidden treasure.

There was my child’s little hand print in green paint on muslin fabric, stretched in an embroidery hoop.  At the top was a red satin bow.  A perfectly round sheet of paper was glued to the back and it had this saying:

“This is a Remember Ring, And though it’s just a little thing, Each year I know it’s there to show, Just how big I did grow.”

First of all……God bless the teachers and all they do!!

Second, how could I have never seen this for the last 15 years?

And third, I couldn’t stop crying.

There in that closet, were years of memories.  On the shelves were many, many books I read to my daughter, then read to my son.  Piled up dusty; having not been touched in years.  Stuffed behind the books is a kindergarten folder with Daniels little works.  His Easter basket he’s much to old for now.

No clothes in the closet, but 5 coats hanging; his favorite denim jacket that no longer fits.

Tucked behind the coats and hanging very neatly are my daughter’s 5 Homecoming mums loaded down with streamers, braided ribbon, plastic beads and mega phones.

One for every year she went.

In the corner is an index card, file box filled with random little things:

a stack of Monopoly money, a deck of cards, a few poker chips, a phone wire, empty Pokémon card packs, a flask with John Wayne on it and a small Gideon Bible.  The kind they give at school.

Odd things for a young boy to keep together.

I left it as it was and sat it on the shelf…………………………………

beside the Easter basket, the countless books we read every night, the hand print Christmas treasure, the pile of stacked up grade school papers, with my Mothers Day card and the Disney caricature.

What do you do?  How do you decide what to give and what to keep?  What to trash and what to save?

Today is not the day. 

I finished cleaning up the floor of the trash, hangers and lonely shoes. 

I put all the Rugrats, Little Golden Books and Bible Stories neatly on their shelves.

In the box of special crochet clothes my daughter never wore; I put the special blanket and pillow that I made, that my son couldn’t sleep without.  It to went on the shelf in the closet with the other things.

Everything back; nice and neat.

Today is not the day……………….

and neither is tomorrow.

“Bowl full of Therapy”


I have just discovered a new therapy.  It doesn’t cost me a dime and since I am newly unemployed and no longer have insurance (YIKES!!!); free is all I can afford.

A friend from work gave me a large bag of pecans.  At Thanksgiving I made pecan pies.

I shelled a few for my pies.

I tried a new recipe.

I didn’t like it.

I will go back to my old faithful one and not waste my pecans……..

As I shelled, I thought to myself how time consuming and tedious it was.  The shells cut my thumbs and made them sore; and I spent lotsa time making sure I removed all the little “bitters”.

I was glad when I finally had enough for my pies.

This week has been a very emotional week for me…………hell the whole year has been an emotional roller coaster.  I would compare it to a roller coaster I rode at The Kemah Boardwalk called “The Bullet”.

First of all, at (then) 48, my thought was; “What the hell was I thinking?” and my second thought was,  “I’m to freakin’ old for this!”

A wooden roller coaster with twists and dips and drops that beat a poor body to death; then comes to an abrupt stop that gives you horrendous whip lash.  At the end of the ride, you want to just sit in the cart for a moment just to try to gather your thoughts that had just been rattled around inside your head!!

I hurt for days afterwards and vowed never to do it again!!!

There’s still a few weeks left in the year, but this week my cart came to an abrupt stop.

Yesterday, lucky Friday the 13th, was considered my last official day of employment with the company I’d worked a total of 20 years for.  Based on financial struggles; it was in the best interest of the business, to close the department I worked in and move it to a regional level.

It was a sad, frightening day; having to leave “family” behind and wonder about my future.

As I drank coffee at my kitchen counter I stared at a bowl of unshelled pecans.  I thought to myself, “I’ve got nothing else to do, I’ll shell a few pecans.”

I picked up those silver plier, nut crackers things and began……………

I squeezed, I busted, I snapped, I peeled, I picked and I chunked in a bowl………..

one after the other.

2 hours later, I found myself sitting on a bar stool at my kitchen counter having shelled more than a “few” pecans.

My cart had come to an abrupt stop and I needed some time to gather my rattled thoughts.  I found I could spend hours shelling pecans as therapy for my sadness, frustration, worry and even anger.

With each squeeze of those silver nut crackers, I released a little of something.

With each crack, pop and crumble; something else would let go.

At the end of my “session”, I felt I had been successful.  I felt a little better and I had a bowl of shelled pecans.

The best things about my new therapy……………….

no appointments necessary, walk-ins are always welcome and it doesn’t cost a dime.

I get a delicious pecan pie outa the “session” as well, if I choose to 🙂

I may feel a little beaten and bruised by life’s roller coaster ride, but…………..

here’s to abrupt stops

and a bowl full of unshelled pecans.

This to shall pass…………………….

“Empty Desk”


“Empty Desk”

The shelves are empty
the walls are bare,
the clock is ticking
the time is here.
Shut down my computer
no emails to read,
my desk is clear
all task complete.
One last time
I’ll close my door,
turn in my key
that’s needed no more.
Stare out the window
where I’ll no longer sit,
thinking about
all the people I’ll miss.
Leave my badge
on my empty desk,
look around me
but there’s nothing left.
The back door is waiting
the “exit” sign shines,
I’ll walk through it
one final time.
I walk down sadly
the familiar steps,
we always complained
when they were icy, wet.
I walk to my car
there’s dew on the grass,
I promised myself
I wouldn’t look back.
There’s no one else here
I sit in my car,
my 18 years
has taken me far.
Driving out slowly
my job here is through,
watching my building
as it’s leaving my view.

“Happy Birthday”


“Happy Birthday”

You can run, but you can’t hide,

a birthday will find you everytime.

Crawl under your bed

or drunk outa your head,

the candles still burn

no matter where you turn.

All year long it chases you

the day appears from outa the blue.

No silly song or ballons to make,

just one more candle on my cake.

Happy Birthday, no day to fear,

Happy Birthday, one more year.

 

 

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