Oh my goodness. The kite thing. Never did I think I would find someone else who shared this idiotic phobia with me. That someone else is my daughter.
I watched her face as her new Hello Kitty kite began to take flight, lifted by a rare gentle Kansas breeze. As it began to ascend, her brow furrowed, and a panicked look replaced her smile.
“I don’t want it to go too high mommy.”
I knew that look. And I knew that feeling. “Is it because it makes you nervous when it starts going up real high?”
She shook her head up and down, and I reassured her, “I know exactly how you feel.”
This didn’t seem to surprise her at all. After all, I get her. Just like my dad got me. She has no idea how precious this bond …
I’m not sure if it was the warm dampness he felt on his shirt or the sob that rose from my shoulders that gave me away. I didn’t want my husband to see me crying. My head was buried in his chest, my arms wrapped around his back, and we were standing on the steps to our newly-built garage. He’d brought me out there to showcase the garage door opener and lights he’d spent all day installing.
“Why are you crying? What’s the matter?”
I shook my head. I didn’t want to answer. I was embarrassed that these emotions spilled out so suddenly with little to no warning. Almost like an unexpected wave of nausea that sends you running to the bathroom, only you don’t make …
My heart skipped a beat at the unexpected sound. Had something hit the window? A bird, maybe? No, not a bird. A mirror. The driver’s side mirror to be exact. It had popped loose from its frame and had swung by its wire up to the window, giving it a loud smack. Thump. Thump. Thump. It bounced off the door as I rattled down the washboard road. I could hear my oldest daughter’s voice, although she wasn’t in the truck with me yet. “Mom, someone needs to fix this road!” They sure did. But it still served its purpose. Busted, not broken. Unlike the mirror, which hung like a eyeball from a socket, unable to see. But it wasn’t the bumpy road that caused the mirror to come loose. It was a …
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,
therefore I will hope in him.” Lamentations 22-24
The night air was surprisingly refreshing when I stepped barefoot onto my cold concrete porch. The light from the living room streamed through the closed storm door behind me, but I was drawn to a light beyond the overhang. Above. The moon. Brilliant and white, it pierced through the inky black sky. It was cool and calming. Clouds, narrow yet with clear definition, were drawn here and there, almost like quilt batting that’s been pulled thin. I let my toes hang off the edge of the porch, my hand on the 8-inch cedar post for …
After today, I can add “have a good cry over a piece of bacon” to my life experiences. I’ve been holding in my emotions for the past few days, willing myself to NOT make eye contact with the ghost of Christmas past. The smiling, always up to mischief face of my father, who took great delight in this time of year.
As I sat at the breakfast table with my husband, listening to the sound of some red dirt band and children’s feet running around upstairs, the dam broke. I bit into the perfectly-cooked piece of bacon, commented to my husband how it was the best from the batch yet, let the glare from the fresh fallen snow fall into my …
This was written for those who’ve just been delivered the death blow. The knee-buckling news. I’m beyond this stage of grief at the moment, but my heart is heavy for those who are here, in the place where the only sensation is hurt.
The hurt place is where
I’m all alone
I just can’t do this
On my own
I can’t be happy
I can’t be brave
Bury me with you
In the grave
My tears will flood
The earth and then
You’ll rise back up
And walk again
When morning comes
You’re still not here
I’ve never felt
This much …