Almost there

I know things seem bleak now, but actually your journey is just beginning. High school is almost over and then you are free. I probably should not do this, but here are a few suggestions as you move forward:

- Quit hoping, because he lives a lot longer than any of us ever dreamed.

- When opportunity arises, take it, it doesn't often come back again.
- Check the heater vent when the keys go missing.
- Your bad attitude is not a fad as most people think.
- Don't get too attached to the pile of hair on top of your head.
- Ignore him when dad promises to pay for college.
- Remember when the counselor told you "lying will get you nowhere"? Well, they were wrong.
- Invest in Amazon.
- Don't forget to take a jacket when you go to Chicago.
- When you get to college (yeah, you do get there), go to class.
- Don't be too hard on your brother when he is not faithful. Trust me, it'll make sense later.
- Don't answer the phone when Lance calls in June 2014.

- Cherish your time with loved ones, life is a blip.

- It is okay to be wrong.

- Trust your intuition, empathy is one of your strengths.

- Your only real competition is yourself.
- When it comes to the redhead, don't do it, it isn't worth it.

Darkness

The darkness of the piece immediately draws me to it as I wander the gallery. I stopped in the museum during a brief stay in Cleveland. I always thought paintings were supposed to be colorful and fun. It is a solitary figure on a horse on what appears to be a track, but going counterclockwise. The dark colors, the pale horse, I can feel the sorrow and seemingly impending doom in the scene. I stand staring at it, step closer to read the placard - The Race Track by Albert Pinkham Ryder. I look closer and I see it has another more appropriate title - Death on a Pale Horse.

The grimness of the piece is haunting, it stays with me for many days and even now. It reminds me of my darkest days, how my thoughts were that horse and rider going round and round the track of my mind. It doesn’t scare me, but rather makes me think about life and the journey. A closer look at the piece and it seems the track goes on and on and on, so leads me to thinking of the track as the life that we all follow with death always on our heals. The snake by the track is the temptations we all face along the way. Isn’t that uplifting? Ultimately, it is just a haunting piece that moves me in ways most pieces do not.

What do I need?

As usual, I have forgotten my list and slowly walk the store grabbing items I think we need. Chills cover my arms as the store is freezing.

“I told him it isn’t his anyway, so don’t worry about it.” The woman grabs a can of baby formula and hurries down the aisle. I wonder if the phone conversation and item are related. I return to my shopping.

“It isn’t a bargain if we never use it.” The man is borderline yelling at another as one pushes the cart and the other walks to the side.

I see her to my left as I scan the shelf for a particular soup. She is leaning forward, it looks like she wants something on the lowest shelf. I glance down at my reflection in the floor as I think about helping her, the last time I tried did not go well as they acted offended. 

It seems like slow motion as I watch her knee give out and fall to her left and onto the floor, one hand still grasping the cart. I rush over, kneel down and ask if she is okay.

“I think so, just embarrassed. Can you help me up?”

She grabs my hand and I slowly help her stand and make sure she is steady. She looks around as I grab the saltines from the shelf and hand them to her.

“I don’t think anybody seen me, do you?”

“Nah, it is all good.”

“Well, I guess you saw me, thank you so much, I’m not sure what happened.” She smiles and pats my arm and takes the crackers.

“Are you sure you are okay?”

“Yes, thank you.”

I stand and watch as she shuffles towards the checkout lane. I walk in the opposite direction scanning the shelves.

I love a rainy night

 The raindrops hit the window sill, the sky lights up and I am suddenly sitting in Mamaw's kitchen. She is baking her famous apple kuchen, baking it just for me. I can smell the rain through the screened back porch, it mixes with the dog pee as the porch is their bathroom as well. I sit on my stool and smile as she sings her favorite Eddie Rabbit song - I Love a Rainy Night - you see a rainy night washed away all of  his cares and just makes him feel good. I think of my time with Mamaw the same way. A big hug and my troubles were gone. She would send me to the utility room - washer/dryer and storage area - to fetch a bottle of soda, a bottle just for me. I'd open that bottle sitting at her table, savor every drop as she worked her magic in the kitchen or told me a story. I was one of her ten grandchildren, so one-on-one time with her was extra special. Like the Eddie Rabbit song, I always woke up to a sunny day after time with her. The power of a song to transport is amazing - Mamaw loved country music, so I am forever tied to Merle, Conway, Dolly and many more forever embedded in my memory.

Over there

 I didn't say where
especially not the street. 
Was it wrong

for a house to have wheels?

I lied and said

the neighborhood behind us.

Nobody pressed the question

as I am sure they really did not care.

There was no chimney

which explains Santa's absence.

I was not scared 

as the front door would not lock.

But every December

couldn't Santa just walk in?

We often laughed

as there was nothing to take.

I heard the sneers 

as I collected my free lunch at school.

My stomach often growled

as I inhaled every bite.

Nothing is ever really free

as you give up your dignity for sustenance.

There was no dad as teachers suggested

for the many projects.

Mom tried her best

as I died a little looking at others work.

Everybody had the new shoes

while mine were called out as 'buddies'.

My Star Wars shirt from Goodwill

as I had never seen the movie.

My JC Penney plain pocket jeans

as everybody else had the famous stitching.

Dad had said he'd be there

but never showed as I sat waiting.

Every Monday the room roared

as weekend stories were shared.

I never shared

as there was nothing to say.

Did I see the latest movie?

No.

Did I see the new store at the mall?

No.

Did I get the latest game?

No.

I made jokes

as comedy became my protector.

I pushed it all down

to avoid an implosion.

Gave them a look

You gave them a look.

I froze as she read from her notes.

That’s what you said last time we spoke, you said you thought you heard them say something, so you gave them a look.

It sounded pathetic, I felt numb.

I always keep notes, I write these things down.

Yeah, it makes sense is what I told her, but it made no sense. I could not fathom why she felt the need to tell me what she had written, or more clearly, what i had said or what I had said I said.

That’s what happened, right? They said something and you looked their way?

I think so, I really don’t remember. It was a lie, I did remember. I clearly remembered. The group to our left at my grandson’s game two weeks prior had made a comment that I deemed possibly negative towards him, so I gave them a look. 

So, what happened at the next game?

It had been two weeks since I talked to her. I was ashamed, embarrassed by her notes and reading them to me. It sounded like a boast, like I gave somebody a look that would result in something more. I am a coward, the look meant nothing and I did nothing.

Are you okay?

It just sounds weird to hear it now. I really don’t remember saying it, just weird.

Well, it just gives us a reference point to continue our past conversation. Has anything happened since?

No. 

That is good.

I never wanted to talk to her again. Therapy was stupid, why had I ever started talking to her? I was agitated, like I could cry but it channeled into anger. Thankfully, it was just a phone conversation, so she could not see my face.

Well, how are you doing? How is the anxiety, any more episodes?

No, I am okay. I should have told the the truth, I was panicking now - I fished a Xanax out of my drawer and swallowed with no water. 

The session continued for its allotted time - 55 minutes. I watched the clock tick away the minutes as there were no plans to ever do it again. It ended with an awkward discussion of how to continue - she obviously sensed issues on my end and I agreed to continue every other week sessions with the plan to end it before the next scheduled time.

With or without

"Would my sadness be worse with you, or without?" He mumbled while staring straight ahead.

"What?" She leafed through a magazine while never looking up.

"Nothing."

They sat on the patio in the chairs they found on clearance years ago at Lowe's. They gently rocked, which  he did while searching the clear blue sky for answers.

"I wonder what life would've been like with somebody else." He watched a cardinal land on the fence.

"Yeah, it is a great day, wonderful weather."

"I think about Becky and how she chased me. I wonder what could have been." He watched the Cardinal fly away - mocking him.

"I told you it was fine, don't worry about it, you're not old."

"I don't know, I should've moved far away. Left my crazy family behind and built my own life."

"Whatever you want, we could go to the Mexican place."

"I should not have settled, my confidence was always a problem."

"Let's do it, I'd love a margarita."

"I wonder what ever happened to Shannon."

"We need to put up everything before we go."

"Shannon, she pulled me aside at the party that time, told me how much she wanted me. I was so stupid."

"The front door is open, I'll get it." She pushes off the chair and drops magazine in the seat while going in the back door.

"Yeah, I should've gone for it, that would've forced my hand." He sighs while wiping his glasses with the front of his shirt. He turns at the sound of her car starting.

"You ready? Let's go!" She yells at him from the driver seat.

"Yeah, I'm coming."

"