Toning Down

Toning down

Trying to tone down

And I don’t mean my body.

Trying to defy the odds,

By staying true to myself

And not pissing people off.

Or making them feel like it’s my ego talking.

This could be difficult.

My behavior isn’t about me.

It is me.

Scalpel, please

Part One

Scalpel, please. 

Open heart surgery.

Slicing into the inner core.

Touching some nerves.

Check my pulse,

I’m going in deep.

Part Two

Just let me cry my tears and move on.

Alzheimer’s walk

I don’t need the ceremony.

Just let me show up, walk,

Go home and cry.

I miss your voice

The grating tone you had

When you didn’t agree with me,
The hopeful tone
When you asked how I was doing.
The cadence, tambre, and tone.
The softness.

I miss your eyes

The way your skin crinkled when you smiled,

The wonder they showed when you watched

Dance, theater, gymnastics,firewalls

The way they narrowed when I said something wrong.

I miss hearing you talk about politics,

Opinionated and passionate.

I miss seeing you sitting at the table

Reading the newspaper

Sitting in your chair

Reading a book

Siting on the piano bench

Playing your favorite songs

Sitting with kids

Reading a book

On the floor

Playing, smiling.

I am so much like you.

In a room of grown-ups

I feel like I don’t belong

In a room full of children

I feel like this is where I should be.

So much like you,

My hair is thinning,

But my calves look great.

My skin is wrinkling

My laugh and frown lines

Are always there.

I see them when I look in the mirror

And they remind me

That I have had a lot of ups and downs in my life

And that I am still alive.

Physically, mentally, I am still here.

I worry, I celebrate

I get angry, sad, reflective, silly, happy.

I try not to hate,

I look for the grain of good 

That you taught me is in everyone

I love,

And I try not to feel hurt

When I’m not loved back

Or the love sn’t shown the way I need it to be.

I am so much like you.

Even though I didn’t want to be.

I wanted to be more loving,

More understanding,

Less judgemental.

Maybe I am. 

Maybe I’m not.

What I am is a work in progress

Proud, strong,

Doubting, soft,

Caring and willing to sacrifice for others.

I want to make the world a better place.

I want my children to be good people.

I want to be loved and remembered.

I don’t want to be you.

But I still want to make you proud.

Purple.

You always said your favorite color was blue.

The color of Delft.

But today your color is purple

A remembrance of how you slipped away,

Before I was ready to stop talking and dancing with you,

One day, the conversation stopped.

You were there

But no words could come out.

All I had were your eyes

Did you know who I was?

That thought hurt.

What hurt more was the look in your eyes

Questioning and confusion.

Sometimes it looked like fear.

And you being you,

It never looked like resignation.

No, you were not the kind of person to give up.

And neither am I.

Thank you for that.

And now I will walk.

Two miles.

Not much of a challenge for me.

It’s symbolic.

I’m not sure what you would think about that.

You’d probably rather that I do something more significant.

Like write you a song or poem.

Or finally cry.

And show the world that I am human.

Ad Humor

I caught the first line of an ad,
Eat, drink, and be married
Hm.
at the Garden
is the next line.
Whew,
I thought the ad was about dating.

I am what I am

I wrote this a week ago but didn’t post it. When I uploaded it some of the lines got mixed up. Hopefully I fixed them all.

Life imitates
Life?
People we said we would never become
Sometimes I sound like my mom,
Ot s crabby, whining old woman
Or an entitled white person
Or all three,
Which really hurts when I realize it.

Yes.
Am i old?
I get senior discounts.
Am I crabby?
Sometimes.
Am I an entitled white person?
Yes.

So why don’t I want to be
What I am?

Life.
We’re all a work in progress.
Sometimes the work part
is harder than 

Living.
And sometimes accepting what you are
can be disappointing

I am a what I am.
And sometimes I wish I wasn’t.

Sunday Morning Reflections

Caution: If you’re a family member, don’t read this. So why am I publishing it? Because sometimes just writing it isn’t enough. It becomes more real when I put it out there.

Sunday morning reflections.

I like sunny days

I like being healthy enough to walk

And walk and walk

And explore

And just do what I want to do.

I'm not sure I could handle a relationship

As much as I am lonely

I don't know how much I want to give up.

And, the realist in me knows

Even if I find a soulmate

There will be times 

When I need to compromise.

It won't be all about me.

Not that it is now.

There's work.

And family.

But I get to choose how much I work

And whether to do the weekend stuff.

I get to choose whether to take he phone call

Or answer the text.

I get to decide when to be present.

With a partner, 

That choice becomes more difficult.

I know how my mind works.

There would be guilt.

There would be resentment,

Or maybe, just maybe

I'm basing that negativity

On the past.

Where control, guilt, and resentment

Were the norm.

And it’s time for me

To try, try again.

Banana Bread

Good banana bread

can make you feel a little better.

Great banana bread can make you feel better than

when your mom or best friend brings you

a bowl of hot Chicken noodle soup

when you feel like you will never get out of bed again.

But nothing beats a solid, warm, bone-crushing hug.

Especially if it is followed by

silence instead of questions.

Sad but strong

I think this needs more editing.

Today I got a message,

Four words on my screen,

""I'm feeling really sad "

Which scared me.

I saw the message an hour after it was sent.

and replied with two words,

"Call me."

I sat and waited.

"I can't. I'm at work."

So i worried,

felt guilty about not calling sooner,

And worried.

Went on with my life for a few hours,

and then worried some more.

Because that's all I could think to do.

And then I realized that worrying was more about me

than the person who was sad.

Once I stopped worrying

I started to think about the strength

it takes

to tell someone 

the truth about how you feel,

when that feeling isn’t what people want to hear.

The courage it takes

to reach out,

to expose yourself when you're feeling vulnerable.

To let someone in.

To ask for comfort, help, validation, anything.

To ask someone to listen

The strength it takes

to expose a raw nerve

not knowing for sure

what will happen.

“I feel really sad”

“Call me so I can tell you you’re strong.”

Recycling the Rut

Reflecting on my previous post

Back in my cycle. 

My well-worn, comfortable rut. 

Wallowing in my wants, 

Looking for the answer that will satisfy my needs. 

Rehashing, Restating, Reliving. 

Old news.

And easy to do,

Instead of redirecting., reaching, and redeeming 

Maybe that will come next.

Will I Ever

Raw, unfiltered, unedited. Getting close to another landmark birthday and I seem to be reflecting more than usual. Dark. Negative. Not so confident. Not so secure. Just thinking, maybe a little too much and a little too deeply and a little too sad. Which, of course, gets my creativity going.

Will I ever meet a man

  who wants to hold me,

  maybe even kiss me,

  more than once.

  Maybe even fall in love with me.

Will I ever meet a man

  who I want to be with

  for the rest of my life,

  or at least several times a week

  for as many weeks as possible,

Will I ever meet a man

  and not feel awkward,

  and not feel socially inept or inadequate,

  and not feel like the chance that he wants to be involved with me

  is slim to none.

Will I ever meet a man

  Who I really hope will call me

    and he does.

  Who I really want to hang out with

    and we do.

  Who feels like my soul mate

   and he is.

Forever Treasure

That moment
when the stars align
for you
and your kids
at the same time.
And you wish
you could bottle it
and savor it
forever.

Becoming my mother, part one

Becoming my mother
was not on my list
of things to do
with my life.
And yet,
here I am.

So much to do

Tired eyes. 

Tired mind.

Sleepy tired.

Mentally tired.

Not stressed.

And not tired of going out and doing stuff.

Just need to rest

More

Which is hard

When there is so much life to live.

Not sure what is going of with the line spacing. Copy and paste sometimes results in weird formatting.

Mom and Fireworks

Fourth of July fireworks lighting up the sky,
Watching mom's face,
As she ooohes and ahs.
Red, blue, pink, purple,
Reflected on her cheeks.
The longer and louder the finale,
The bigger her smile.
Going to fireworks without her,
The sparkling seems less bright,
The booms less loud,
The finale too short,
The ecstasy and innocence are gone.