The hole

He’s at the bottom of a hole.

Will you put down the shovel?

And take a hold of the ladder rung.

The first one is the hardest.

“The hole is deep. It doesn’t seem like there is a way out.”

Hearing of his hopelessness, oh, so hard.

But, a ray of hope. When asked, “Who is someone who could help you?”

“It would be my

Sister.”

The sister that people used to ask him about

“Is she your twin?”

The sister that he laid beside in the backseat of the van on long trips to Kentucky,  and in chorus said, “Cockadoddledoo” when they went under the bridge.

The sister that put make-up on him,

And polished his nails

And recently, shaped his bushy eyebrows.

The sister that he says is his friend.

This sister.

The one that has been depressed and anxious since he moved out.

Separating siblings is probably one of the hardest things a child can go through.

Seeing them both suffer, and not being able to do anything about it, has been like a stone around my neck, that swings and hits every part of my heart.

Watching him wander, stumble, and fall…..over and over.

Watching her slide into a pit of despair, unable to eat or sleep or laugh….for days.

Is a mother’s pain.

There is none other to compare.

I constantly remind myself of Mary’s sacrifice of her son.

The pain she endured…. I cannot even imagine.

This gives me a special kind of comfort.

She cries with me. She pulls me into her arms and says, “I know your pain.”

I trust that this sacrifice is forming a man that would otherwise never be made.

I pray.

And I know Mary, Joseph, the angels, my mother, my grandmother, Jesus, and God hear me. My family prays with me, for me, and for him.

But the important thing is, I pray.

Gay Safe House

"Is Darian coming over tonight?" I asked my 18 year old daughter.

"Yea, he'll be here around 7." She said as she walked from the bathroom back to her bedroom. "He's gonna help me clean my room.

It had been 3 days since I'd asked her to clean it. The floor, littered with dirty and clean clothes and random dishes, was borderline hazardous to walk through. But, if she wanted to leave the house, she had to clean it. Hence, Darian's arrival at 7.

She was smart, witty, driven and lit up a room when she entered it. She had that intangible 'something' that people label charisma. After graduation, she asked if she could take some time off, not start college right away. I thought it was a good idea.

"Work and save your money for college. Avoid the student loans if you can."

She'd agreed and that was that.

On her days off, streams of young people entered our home. Jack, who works full-time at chick-fil-a. Then there's Pat, who pops in unannounced and begins telling me about her recent dramatic event.
"I cut all my hair off. You like it?"

"I love it Pat! It's very cute on you."

"Well, my mom hates it! I'm banned from Angel's house now. Cause she cut it for me. My mom says it makes me look like a lesbian. And that's NOT OKAY with her."

"I think it suits you Pat. You've got amazing curls." I reached over to touch them and she smiled.

Lilly walked into the kitchen.

"Hey Pat! When did you get here?"
"I've been here a minute. I'm talking to your mom."

"Come to my room, I wanna show you the new video. We are going to learn the dance today. And Darian's going to do our photo shoot!"

"After you clean your room!" I shout as she and Pat walk down the hall.

The next day

Lilly and I are putting away clean dishes and chatting.

"You did it again Lilly. Your room looks great! How you manage to get people to help you.....every time...." I shook my head and opened the cabinet holding the glasses.

"Will you do the silverware please? You know how I hate that sound." She said, as she put away the plates.

"Yes, if you'll sweep the floor."

"Deal."

She finished sweeping and walked into the living room where I was curled up on the sofa watching Law and Order.

"I love Pat's new haircut. I can't believe her mom banned her from Angel's house." I said, sliding over making room for Lilly.
"You know her mom hates it that Pat's gay, don't you? She's a super Christian."
"Well, that's just so sad."
"I can't wait for you to see the photos Damian took. They are really good! We did night time shots."
"He's such an artist! I hope he gets into SCAD."
Lilly's phone beeped and she hopped up and headed to her room.
"Thanks for being the gay safe house mom." She said just before her bedroom door closed.
"What?" I snapped my head around.
"Yea, you know that all my gay friends come over here because they can be themselves. Darian, Jack, Pat, Dora, Laura, Renna." She stood outside her room.
"Oh, that's great! Thanks for telling me." I grinned and I wiped away a tear.

I'd always wanted to have the house where kids felt loved and accepted. I wanted to be the mom that fed every kid in the neighborhood peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. The safe house. Yep. that's what I'd wanted for my life. Without realizing it, I'd achieved my goal.

Pain Past

When the sadness creeps in during my sleep
I shake it off
Tell myself, "Its all in the past."
And go forward.

The shadows of the past, lurking on my pillow.
Its a chance of luck.
Will I hear something today, that reminds me of that time....
When I cried myself to sleep because my house was too empty?

or when My children didn't come home on a Sunday?
Or
The time when I beat myself up, wondering if it was my fault?
And beat pillows, pretending it was his face?

When I entered the high school, after crying all the way to work
And put on a pretend smile for the students walking by?

Sadness seeped out by day, and by night I collapsed under the weight of my grief.

If I don't dream, I don't feel it so much.
But I have to go to sleep.
So I pray the dreams are pleasant.

The Blue Lights

A single motorcycle

Led the silent parade

Face serious, determined

Eyes focused ahead

Leaning a little forward

A second motorcycle followed

A copy of the first

Then blue flashing lights

Announcing the long black car

The faces on the other side of the street

Solemn

Some holding small flags

A young man with his hat off

An older woman saluting

The long black car

Passed us by

I didn’t know this hero

Byt I felt a deep sadness

For his wife, his children,

His parents, his friends,

His co-workers

His neighbors

Even the people whom

He probably gave a ticket to

For speeding

Just in front of my church

We all silently stood by

While the blue flashing lights

Slowly passed

A parade of blue from Locust Grove Police.

Henry County Sheriff

Our neighbors from Newton and Butts

One from Eatonton, and Border Patrol

And many, many others

The tears slipped out as the procession continued

No one spoke

We all just stood and felt the wound

When one of us is injured

We are all injured.

If we sit at home

And watch it on TV

We don’t see everyone else’s pain

Close up

As I stood and watched each policeman

Drive by,

Some wiping their tears,

Others holding a strong face

Determined to keep it together

I felt the thread that binds us all together

When one human suffers, and we experience together

It is no less painful, but it connects us

And helps us heal..

Because we were all injured that day

Our brother, neighbor, son, father, fellow citizen took the bullet for us

And I honored him by standing in silence.

Thank you to everyone who showed up today

So we could grieve together.

We are stronger for it.

Love binds us together.

I think I'm in love with Frida Kahlo

I think I’m in love with Frida Kahlo.

Everytime I see her face, whether a photo or a beautiful broken self-portrait,
I feel my heart lunge outwards.

Like it’s trying to reach her.

This woman, so broken physically, yet so immensely spiritually whole.

Colored her pain, her despair

She broke through the brokeness

Like reaching through a solid wall with her bare hand

She danced so close to death, on a daily basis

Yet did not retreat into a shell

Or the depths of depression

Her drive pulls me to her

I want to brush her hair

And weave beautiful ribbons in her braids

I want to walk to the market and find brilliant flowers

To dress up her up-do

I want to iron her dresses

And shine her shoes

Because I find her to be the freeest woman I’ve ever known.

And a free woman is a beauty unlike any other

Response to EB Browning Sonnet XXVI

Fractured family

The empty spot, where the man should be, would be, could be

Is like a home hit by a bolt of lightening

A wall missing leaving the home open

On one side

Vulnerable to wind, rain, sheets of ice

For years, I imagined a new wall, covering the home

The material would be solid and strong

Or would it be pink with flowers and fancy decorations

Or simply a sheer screen, veiling us from the harsh world

But thin enough to see the beauty on the other side

Maybe just a series of windows, from floor to ceiling, no drapes

Just an avenue of sunlight to drape my inner world

Then, a moment came, when I forgot the open wall was there

And walked outside

And stood in the rain, felt the ice on my feet, and the winds rush through my hair

And realized the gift of the open wall took me directly towards my dreams

Little things

Sometimes little things feel big
Like a chair
Ladder back chairs
My mom got a set and you'dve thought she'd won the lottery.
She would walk into her dining room and just stand and admire them.
I didn't understand it.
To me, they seemed old-fashioned, countryish.
And we lived in the city.
But she loved them.
The cherry table and china cabinet were another source of pride for her.
She polished them once a week.
But we never ate on the table without first putting on the pads, and a table cloth.
So we didn't get to see the table when we sat down to eat a meal.
But that was what she wanted.
She made matching cloth napkins and a table-cloth
Along with an apron.
Brown and white checked.
Totally country, yet uptown, because they all matched.
Thanksgiving, or Christmas, we covered her shiny cherry table,
and sat in the uncomfortable ladder back chairs.
And enjoyed tasty food, passed around in serving bowls.
Bowls that she had purchased from mountain folk potters.
Not fancy china.
Just simple earthenware.With earth colored glazes.
She married a city man, with city ways.
And sometime in my early teens, she embraced her country roots
And began putting her touch on her cookware, her dishes, herself.
She used that old iron skillet more and more. She put away the old electric skillet that she'd used for frying chicken, like Betty Crocker told her to do.
And slung the iron skillet on the stove and fried her okra, her squash, and her chicken.
No concern for triglycerides.
"The country folks lived till their nineties, eating fried foods. Fresh, farm raised foods."
She bought organic vegetables and fruits before they were abundant like they are now.
She'd go to the little health food store, Rainbow Grocery, and come home with lovely produce.
And fry it in canola oil. Substituting the lard for canola oil was a move towards the healthy side.
Coming in the door when she was frying okra...oh my goodness.
I'd eat it right off the oil saturated paper towel. One or two at a time. Till it was obvious I'd eaten my share.
She never said, "Wait till dinner." I think it made her happy that I was eating it right as she pulled it out of the pan.
She didn't have the luxury of eating whatever she wanted off the serving plate.
She liked to tell us that she was the youngest, therefore the last in the pecking order of 5 kids. And after her two brothers had served themselves, there wasn't much left.
The joy she must've felt by always having a full fridge and food for her family I don't think I'll ever really appreciate.
Like ladder back chairs.
They can make a grown woman cry,
It's just a chair, or is it?