Dance among the leaves

Sitting at the window watching the leaves whip in the gusty wind. The mix of colors -- brown, read, green reminds one of a ballet. Fast and furious then slow, the limbs of the trees waving about in a furious dance of spring. Beautiful as it may be, the dance reflects my own inner turmoil. Limbs whipping about in the unchoreographed dance mimic my own feelings, undecided and confused.

My own conflict -- MY conflict -- owned by no one else. How I would like to place it on someone -- anyone. But the sad fact is that no matter how much I feel like the madly whipping tree limbs, and no matter how much I would like to place the problems on someone else, it just can't be.

I have created the mess I am in. I didn't share with my husband my feelings. I tried to pin them on someone else or something else. Pulling past events out fast and furious just like leaves falling from the trees in the fall. I take ownership of the problems that caused my husband -- the person I love more than anyone else on this planet -- to squash his feelings for me until there was no love left. It became a huge monster and has taken on it's own life.

Unhappy and unfulfilled. Problems that I have assisted in creating and too big now to overcome. I will fight the good fight for my family, but just as the beautiful leaves of the trees whip in the wind, the time will come in which the leaves will loosen their grip and fall, dead and crumpled. Just like my own husband's love for me. Once strong and wrapped around every fiber of our beings, now crumpled and dead.

The old dog

Creeping across the floor, hoping not to be noticed, he makes it to the doorway. Tossing a backward glance, he sees her ... and the pair of eyes following him. This was not the escape he intended.

She was lying in repose on the couch, her blonde hair flowing, almost blending into the couch. In her younger years, she was the first to engage. Lacking in beauty, and knowing that she was lacking in beauty, she more than made up for it in energy and heart. But that was in her younger years, and now, she was just trying to grow old with some sort of dignity. The pink of her cheeks now faded, and the bounce in her step gone. Of course, the less anyone noticed, the happier she was. Except that he always noticed, just as he noticed the very air she breathed.

He thought she didn't notice his tiptoeing around her. Well, not most of the time anyway. He wasn't arrogant with his youth. The simple matter of fact was that he loved her more than the breath of life. Of course he knew that in the neighborhood they called her a cougar. Which made him the kid. It didn't matter what they called him, as long as she didn't discover that anyone was saying anything less than kind about her. She walked in beauty and he loved every minute that he was allowed to spend with her. She was the very bane of his existence. His life before she was in it -- meaningless.

He tried to sneak out without her knowing because he knew that each time he went out without her, was one more thing that separated them. He tried so hard to help her. He knew that her time her on earth was nearing an end. It pained him so much. She was his everything. He often would just lie at her side, just the very act of being near her adding more memories. Sometimes he just watched her in her regal repose. Absorbing.

His devotion to her was mirrored by his devotion to his family. A whistle from his owner brought him to his feet, tail whipping wildly, ready for the game. It was these moments when she tried to keep up that she knew you can't teach an old dog new tricks.

A lesson on love

When I was a child living at home with my parents and my six brothers and sisters, it was a hard time for us. My dad treated my mom and us kids awful. In the early years of their marriage -- and way before me -- my dad drank and ran around and just didn't take care of his family. He got another woman pregnant while he was married to my mom, he became an alcoholic. He abused us kids and my mom. Until a couple of years ago, I had about 11 years of my life that I couldn't really recall because what happened during that span of time was so horrendous.

Years later, when I was an adult, I asked my mom why she stayed through all of that garbage he put her through. She simply said, "I love him. I have always loved him." I really didn't get it at the time, and no matter how often I said it or thought about it, I just couldn't see how her love for my dad could be so strong as to weather even the stormiest of times. I knew what love was, but I guess I didn't know what that never ending love was. I do now, and I totally understand: love doesn't know boundaries or follow a structure. Nor does it come easy or cheaply. But once it has a grip on your heart, if it is true love, it won't ever give up, no matter the situation or the consequence.

Here we go again

While riding on the magical train we like to call life has been a doozy of a ride for this family. Job changes, illness, difficulties with friends -- you name it, and it is pretty sure bet that this family has been through it save for natural disasters. So it shouldn't be a surprise to anyone to find out that we were in a vehicle accident last week.

A car ran a red light and just smashed the heck out of our little car. I was picking up Jacob from school, and pulling out of the school's driveway, I got smashed. In my mind, I have replayed the scenario over and over, could I have seen him sooner -- I don't think so as he crested a hill and that is when I saw him barrelling down on us like some sort of enraged bull. We, of course, were the brilliant cape of the matador.

I saw that bull soon enough to stomp the gas pedal which prevented him from hitting my door. Instead the back door on the diver's side was hit. I have been in auto accidents before, but I don't ever recall one this fierce. Upon impact, my breath was knocked out of me. I don't know if I blacked out or not, but the next thing I see is the middle school in front of me. The car had been hit with such force that it swung around 160 degrees, just like the matador swings around with the cape while preparing for the blow with his sword. The drivers side airbag deployed, and thankfully there were no children in the way. The matador was gored.

Immediately following, Jacob kept saying, "Did that just happen? Did we just get hit?" My thoughts echoed his words -- the entire thing was so surreal. After the perfunctory going over to ensure he was not hurt or in any pain, I asked him to fig out my cell phone and call his dad. In what seemed liked seconds, there were people at the car talking to us, trying to assist in any way possible. The first two people to the car were an off duty paramedic and a nurse. My neck was hurting so bad that I had a hard time thinking of anything other than the pain.

Meanwhile, my brave warrior of a son took control of the situation. He got my ID and insurance card and gave them to the police officer. He made sure I was being looked after. He gathered his book bag and picked up and put back the spilled contents of my purse. And when the ambulance came and asked did we need to go to the hospital, he said yes when I hesitated. He called his dad and his brother to let them know what was going on. He asked the ambulance driver about how loud the siren would be inside the ambulance explaining that he was autistic and loud noises really bothered him. (We were driven to the hospital with no sirens.) When we got to the ER he was told he couldn't come in the ER entrance that we were coming in -- I told the paramedics that he was autistic, but Jacob had already spoken up for himself, letting them know that he didn't want to be separated from his mom until he knew how I was doing. I am so proud of him for keeping a cool head and doing what needed to be done.

At the hospital, no broken bones were found, just lot of bruising and sore all over. It seems that the car got the worst of it. The door that was hit was punched in a good foot, if not more. Everything on the driver's side is out of alignment. If that day had been a regular Wednesday for us, Patrick would have been in the front seat and Jacob would have been in the seat that received the largest part of the blow. I don't see how anyone in that seat could have survived. The car looks as though someone was injured.

But it wasn't a regular Wednesday. Patrick was home sick, so Jacob was in the front seat. Although there was a lot of students in the area, none were in the street. The driver of the other car immediately said he ran a red light. He also, by the way, walked away from the accident. Normally, there wouldn't be another manager at work and Mark wouldn't have been able to leave early, but another manager had come in early to get some things done, so Mark was able to leave immediately.

So here we are several days later. The car is totaled. We are sore, but thankful -- so thankful --
that it wasn't any worse. We are sure the hand of God was involved in this -- protecting us as well as all of these children leaving their school.

Always wrong

Ever have one of those days where no matter what you do it seems to be the wrong thing? How about a week of those days? Does doing the wrong thing at the wrong time beget more wrong doings?

Take this example from Easter Sunday. Easter baskets were prepared, but they weren't appreciated in the spirit given. All wrong. Easter dinner was being prepared, but one of the spouses wasn't going to be home in time for the dinner. The children, not wanting to wait for the big dinner, were taken to a restaurant, but when the spouse called finally on the way home, it appears that the money allocated for dinner for the children was specifically to be spent at a specific restaurant, and not the one chosen.

When the spouse did arrive home, the long awaited dinner was -- well, not what was wanted. Both spouses now a bit cranky, it soon is time for bed. But wait, one spouse is using the computer in the bedroom, when the other demands to know how long the computer will be on, because it is time for bed. Even in sleep, things aren't agreeable, as one spouse is hot, and the other is just right. Guess which spouse I was ...

Random thoughts

Try as one might, you can't make someone love you. Nor can you change their will.

Running on Empty

An empty well -- that is what I am. As a writer, I am up against the wall. I cannot find the words to complete outstanding projects. In fact, the words for this blog won't flow either.

My limbs feel like dead weights attached to the torso. There is pain in the shoulders and the fingers dance upon the keyboard, making a valiant attempt to support and coerce and support the brain and body to work in unison. On this day though, the energy doesn't extend beyond the wrists -- anything else is just too much.