Pain is Fear Leaving The Body

The therapist raised the table up so that she could slowly jerk my stiff ankle from side to side. It didn’t hurt, but the sensation was definitely uncomfortable. When she was done, she pushed her fingers into the outer ankle bone and lifted it up for a few seconds at a time. The pain I felt was on the inside ankle bone. It was excruciating and I cried out. Amelia asked if she should stop, but I told her no, that pain was needed to heal. She then palpated the inner ankle bone and I felt the tendons crack. When she was done, she shook my ankle from side to side again. It felt good, even though I knew it would ache a few hours later. Physical therapy is a special kind of torture that needs to be administered in order to heal. Now that the ache of it has finally settled in, I must remember that this pain is merely fear leaving my body……

Meggie called during her lunch break and asked me how I was doing. I explained that my ankle ached and I was bitchy because of the pain. Her comment was she didn’t feel sorry for me since all she’d been doing is throwing up for the last 3.5 months. Yes, my lovely daughter is going to make me a grandma in June. That gorgeous blonde haired, blue eyed wild fire that I gave birth to 24 years ago is going to grace us with another living soul to walk this planet. So how can I complain about learning to walk again, while she’s growing a new life within her body?

We hung up while she let her dogs out and hoped they’d come in quickly so she’d get a chance to take a good nap with all three of her Huskies. I latched the leash on Eddie the Rat and took him outside, and he lifted his legs on the bushes just outside my apartment entrance. Because of the pain, I couldn’t walk very far, so we headed back inside. My text alert went off and I entered my password into my phone. Meggie informed me that she’d thrown up before she could get the dogs outside. I replied that I was so sorry and wished there was something I could do to help her. Unfortunately I couldn’t but she knows if I could, I would. After all, I am her mother. And what mother doesn’t want to take care of their child, no matter what age they are.

Meg’s final text to me told me that she was going to take a nap. I told her I was going to wrap Christmas presents. I hate shopping, and I’m not very fond of Christmas, but I figured while I still had my gym shoes and brace on, I better get as much wrapping done as I could. I knew the pain from my therapy session would settle in before too long, and the tears would flow.

My friend Lori has been diagnosed with breast cancer. Her battle is much more in depth than mine, because her’s is for her life. While mine is for the chance to be able to not walk with a limp. I watch Lori’s battle closely and I cheer her on every single damn day. I know she has watched my battle closely and though she’s got her own fight, she cheers me on. I’ll fight for my chance to walk without pain. But I’ll fight for Lori too. And I’ll also fight for Megan’s struggle too. We are in our own kind of pain. We can’t discount the hurt. We can only fight through it.

About these ads

The Waves and George Clooney’s Twin

VWThe waves

I spoke to my sister for a few minutes this morning. She brought me a light bulb that she’d bought me months ago and wine corks that I’m going to do some kind of crafty thing with. We talked about being lonely vs. being alone, and I told her that I’ve finally learned the difference. I’m an extrovert but I’m happy with the quiet and the solitude. I’m happy with ruffling the scruff and scratching the ears of my dog, than spending time with people that talk to much. I’ve let go of toxic people and I’ve let go of the toxicity within myself.

2014 has royally sucked but as it draws to a close, I’m thankful for what I experienced during it. I mean, at least I’m alive to tell the tale. But now it’s time to write the final words and close this chapter.

My friend Bette said in 2015 we deserve to find George Clooney’s twin and have him whisk us away to the Caribbean. He could feed us grapes while we tanned our pale bodies on the deck of his yacht. I told her I wouldn’t care if I had to draw his bathwater and wash his dishes. Hell, I’d swab the poop deck if necessary!

So this morning I will enjoy the coffee cup, the knife, the spoon, things in themselves, and myself in myself.

Have a happy Sunday my lovelies.

A Reunion of Twin Flames

 

‘Maybe I was born with you inside me. Maybe I have always carried you with me. Maybe you are all the wild in me.’ ~ Tyler Knott Gregson 

The inn was packed with men and women dressed in business attire, their heads bent forward while their fingers glided across the glass surface of their cell phones. Bosses and employees continued conversations that had begun in morning meetings, the subjects touching on nothing and everything. Wait staff rushed by with trays full of hot food and cold beverages. The air was filled with the scent of homemade chicken soup and the yeast of warm bread pulled fresh from the oven. Coffee cups clattered as they were refilled and ice cubes clinked in glasses topped off with fresh water. Silverware scratched across empty plates while mundane conversations continued to buzz.

Lauren placed her hands palms side down on the antique oak table. She scrutinized her long fingers and cursed herself for getting a manicure before meeting with her long lost love.  She’d never been what you’d call a high maintenance woman. All she needed to do was apply a little mascara to her sparse eyelashes and coat her berry colored lips with store brand chap stick.

Frank tenderly stroked the stones in the ring on the third finger of her right hand. It tickled as the sensation traveled from her arm and down her spine. With his touch, Lauren felt as though someone had walked across her grave, found out all of her secrets and read all her old love letters. She lifted her hand from the table and wrapped it protectively around his. His hand was course from hard work, but when she touched it she swore it turned to velvet.

His green eyes bore into her as he said, “look at me.”

Lauren did as he requested, and in that moment she couldn’t stop staring at him. He was still beautiful. The man was dark haired, skinny and tall, with a mouth that was perfect for kissing. He looked into her blue eyes and discovered the irises were flecked with gold. Why hadn’t he noticed that when they were young? She smiled, and he swore he saw the sun rise in her eyes. Frank tucked a hand under her chin, leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss.

“My God woman but you are gorgeous.”

“I am not,” Lauren replied. “I am only slightly pretty.”

Frank slid his hands underneath the dress she wore specifically for him and with a low growl replied, ‘If I say you’re gorgeous, you are, because I never lie.”

The restaurant continued to buzz with conversation while the wait staff flurried around them, but the activity was lost on them. Lauren fell into his arms, her desire at its genesis. Frank gave her a gentle kiss on the pulse point of her throat and she moaned right there in the middle of the restaurant. She wondered if anyone had heard her, and then realized she didn’t really care if they did. If Frank was anything like he was when they were young, he was finding pleasure in enticing her with people around them.

Lauren whispered into his ear, “what do you see in me?”

“Your worth”, he replied as he turned and slipped his tongue into her mouth.

She had forgotten how good his kisses were, and it was all she could do not to bite his lips. Frank finally pulled away so that he could continue their conversation and to not attract too much attention from the other restaurant patrons.

‘You my darling, are like me, don’t you see that, after all of the conversations we’ve had?’

Lauren replied, ‘I guess you’re right.’

Their kisses continued, as Frank’s hands roamed underneath her dress. He caressed her plump legs and boldly brushed his fingers across the soft cotton of her panties. Lauren’s body stiffened and it was all she could do to keep from crying out.

Frank we have all the time in the world for this, so let’s wait.

Moving his hands to rest on her knees he kissed her forehead and nodded his agreement. She put her hand in his, and began to talk about their life together. He whispered how much he loved her while Lauren weaved her stories. Frank was enamored with her spirit and wondered what had taken him so long to find her again. He realized that all of his crooked roads had let straight back to her. Sitting here in an inn during a busy lunch hour, he knew that his home was with her. The inn began to empty of the lunch crowd. Bussing staff cleaned and reset tables for the dinner hour.

Frank and Lauren paid the bill for their untouched lunch and drinks. Hand in hand they made their way outside and back to their separate vehicles.

“I promise to see you soon,” Frank told her.

“Don’t make me any promises, just say we’ll meet again.”

“I want you in my life every day.”

“It’ll happen, when you’re ready”, Lauren told him.

“I love you darling.”

With a quick kiss she said, “I know, and that’s what gets me out of bed every day.”

With that Lauren got into her car and drove away. At the stoplight she turned, smiled vibrantly and waved goodbye.

Frank would like to say that their story ended happily. That he and Lauren finally reunited for good and lived together, but that was the last time he saw her. Now every time he drove past the inn, he thought of her and what he should have done. That day he should have brought her flowers. He should have run away with her. He should have made her his wife. But he didn’t do any of those things. He wasn’t sure if it was fear of the future or his past that kept him from her. All he knew was that he would miss her every day until he breathed his last breath.

This Morning

The autumn wind is a pirate. Blustering in from sea with a rollicking song he sweeps along swaggering boisterously. His face is weather beaten, he wears a hooded sash with a silver hat about his head… The autumn wind is a Raider, pillaging just for fun.

~Steve Sabol~

Awoke this morning to sloppy puppy kisses on my forehead and a brisk shuffle walk outside. Old coffee was warmed in the microwave while I fed the dog and cat. With cream added to dark roast I sat down and watched the sun rise from my sliding glass door. I accidentally spilled coffee on my chest when Eddie dropped a tennis ball in my lap. Setting the coffee down I did as he silently requested and played fetch. After a few balls were caught in mid air he walked to the door and gave me a pleading look to go back outside. With my coat on, I painfully shuffled out the door and headed down the stairs. I opened the door and walked out into the chilly air to walk my little terror knowing that he was saving me and helping me heal.

**I know it’s been awhile since I’ve posted on my blog. It’s been difficult to be inspired, or when I do write I think the words are trite and utter bullshit. I have to write to get better at it, and I assure you I’ll try. Have a great day and stay warm.**

The Coffee Date

It was a nippy 35 degrees when I finally woke up at the not so early hour of 9:15 am. I know I’m a lazy one, but in my defense I did wake up at 3:00 am to add another blanket to my bed. Believe me, it was all I could do to crawl out from under the semi warmth of my zebra print comforter to fish around in my closet for another blanket and then scurry back into bed. The effort was well worth it though. Of course then the night sweats started, but that’s another story all together. Such are the joys of being 46 and in pre-menopause. Good Lord, but do I digress!

As I stated in my first sentence I finally woke up at 9:15 am. Cinders, my cranky yellow eyed black cat sang me the song of her hunger as I hopped on one foot into my wheelchair. Clad in a purple tank shirt and yellow boy shorts I expertly turned my chair around and headed out of my bedroom to turn up the thermostat. With Cinders following close behind I headed to my sliding glass door and opened the blinds. The sunlight poured over and warmed me while I waited for the heat to kick on. Cinders got hit with it too and rolled over on her belly, her hungry talk silenced for a moment or two by sweet sunshine.

Seated in my wheelchair, I watched as a black Ford Focus pulled up and stopped behind the cars in the parking lot. A woman carrying a cup of Joe from Starbucks stepped from the car and closed the door. As she began to walk to her apartment door entrance, the gentleman she was with stepped from his door and asked her to stop. He walked to her as she turned around, and he gave her a warm hug. His face was lit with a smile so genuine it made my heart skip a little faster. I could hear her laughter as they hugged each other. He leaned his head in and he kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him tighter before they kissed again.

Their parting conversation wasn’t clear but you could tell it was jovial and warm, even as they stood outside in the cold morning. As he drove away, and she entered her apartment building, I knew that’s what I wanted someday, a coffee date, a kiss from a nice man, and a smile from him to light up my otherwise ordinary Sunday. I’m hopeful that in time it will happen.

 

You Are My Sunshine, My Only Sunshine

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy, when skies are gray

Mommy used to sing this song to me when I was a child. There were so many nights when I couldn’t sleep,because I was scared of the dark, and I was scared of the quiet. I was scared of the next day at school, and the struggles I would face there. Mom did her best to ease my fears with singing before we’d go to sleep. Of course I didn’t go to sleep. I sweated about sharks, and things that go bump in the night. I sweated over bullies and the fact that I couldn’t do math. Mom had no idea how scared I was because I was never able to tell her. So instead we sang to each other.

I hated that everything scared me and would continue to until I was in my late 20’s. I hated that I was afraid of the dark and used a nightlight until I was 30. I hate that now that I live alone, I’m afraid of the dark again, even though I live in an apartment building that is relatively safe. I hate being afraid and I hate who I am. But then I think about Mom and the way we sang to each other when I was a child. I remember the comfort I felt for those few moments in time, and how safe I was.

When I was young Mommy and I sang together, and even when we do now I continue to feel  safe. She did the best she could to help me and continues to do so to this day. She doesn’t understand me but that’s okay, I know now she does the best she can for me.

You make me happy when skies are gray

You’ll never know dear how much I love you

Please don’t take my sunshine away….

 

Shards of Glass

still-life-with-doug

 Copyright-Douglas McIlroy

After her latest hospitalization, Tricia isolated herself on an island where no one knew her.

While the ocean roared and licked her feet, she searched for colored shards of glass made smooth by tumbling waves. In her workshop she placed them in jars filled with water then sold them to tourists. Tricia was confounded by what rum soaked and perfect bodied folks would purchase while they laid in the sun.

Here, she remained sober and ‘off the grid’, but it didn’t stop her from thinking about her past life. She hoped they were okay without her. Actually, she hoped they were better than okay.

104 words/General Fiction (hell, I don’t know)

 

Thanks Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this exercise in discipline. It is a joy to work with you and have you comment on my work. Along with all of my other friends from Friday Fictioneers.

Readers, please check out the other stories found on Rochelle’s page. Thanks for stopping by.

He Just Thought She Was Crazy

88922_23.tif

 

‘She didn’t belong anywhere and she never really belonged to anyone. And everyone else belonged somewhere and to someone. People thought she was too wonderful. But she only wanted to belong to someone. People always thought she was too wonderful to belong to them or that something too wonderful would hurt too much to lose. And that’s why she liked him–because he just thought she was crazy.’

~ C. JoyBell C.

 

You Kissed Me Once

unidentifiable-on-a-stickcopyright-Ken Bonham

You kissed me once, while seated on a bench in Central Park, our gloved hands held steaming cups of coffee. My booted foot toed a long dead seed pod, and its remnants scattered on the sidewalk.

Our silence spoke of the depth of our love. How it had settled into the corners of our hearts made dusty by time and the broken shards left by other lovers.

I took a sip of steaming coffee, then kissed your mouth. We smiled at each other, as I drank in the beauty of your face.

You whispered, ‘thank you’, and I blushed in my reply.

 Genre: Romance/101 Words

It’s been so long since I’ve participated in Friday Fictioneers, but this photo spoke to me. Please give me constructive criticism. I assure you I’m tough, and I can take it.

Thanks Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this exercise in discipline. It is a joy to work with you and have you comment on my work.

Readers please check out the other stories found on Rochelle’s page. Thanks for stopping by.

Blessings from my Sister

Practical_Magic_024

Sometimes I feel like there’s a hole inside of me, an emptiness that at times seems to burn. I think if you lifted my heart to your ear, you could probably hear the ocean. The moon tonight, there’s a circle around it. Sign of trouble not far behind. I have this dream of being whole. Of not going to sleep each night, wanting. But still sometimes, when the wind is warm or the crickets sing… I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for. I just want someone to love me. I want to be seen. I don’t know. Maybe I had my happiness. I don’t want to believe it but, there is no man, Gilly. Only that moon. –Practical Magic

Sis and I were never close, but it wasn’t from my lack of trying. We were just too different, she and I. I was the Black Sheep, and she was the perfect one. Sure, I was smart, but she had the drive to get good grades. I was in school for the social aspect of it. Sis ran with the right crowd, but I ran with the wild crowd. I drank, smoked cigarettes and weed. Hell, she was even a cheerleader.

Our weddings were within three months of each other. They were over 25 years ago, so I don’t remember much. However, I do recall spilled champagne on my bridesmaids dress, dancing with my future husband and dirty dancing to the song, “Time of my Life”. I remember that Sis looked beautiful, like she always did. Where I was curvy, and what I perceived as ugly,  she was neither of those things. To me she was perfect; athletic, smart, popular, beautiful, driven, and the list goes on and on.

She and I raised our kids differently. I was the free spirited mom that gave my children room, but reigned them in when necessary. She was the stricter mom, that enforced rules and gave lectures. Our children turned out to be pretty damn great adults, so who’s to say which of our parenting skills was better.

Throughout the years, she divorced and remarried. She had a couple more kids while her older two were teenagers. Our oldest ones were all born within a few years of each other and it was fun to watch them all grow and change, and achieve. Sis and I were blood, but we never crossed over to being friends. Then I decided after 24 years of marriage to divorce Roger Darling, and she became my strongest supporter.

I finally let go of what I perceived were our differences, and let her in. Sis has been there for me when I’ve been at my lowest. She has gotten my groceries and run my errands while I was laid up from a major car accident last March. She has on more than one occasion yelled at me and told me to get my head on straight now that I’m walking again. We’ve learned we can lean on each other, no matter how different we are.

She’s my sister and now my friend. I don’t know if we’d ever be able to live together, but I’m proud to say she’s one of my loudest cheerleaders. Who knew those skills of hers would come in handy all these years later?

Can love really travel back in time and heal a broken heart? Was it our joined hands that finally lifted Maria’s curse? I’d like to think so. But there are some things I know for certain: always throw spilt salt over your left shoulder, keep rosemary by your garden gate, plant lavender for luck, and fall in love whenever you can.-Practical Magic