Poem about saying Goodbye

I wrote this poem over 4 years ago. It is still ringing in my ears to this very day. Goodbye is so difficult, but a painful reality in life that cannot be escaped.

It’s funny how it will hold one meaning to a person, yet another meaning to another. None of which most likely match mine …

 How Do You Say Goodbye?

December 11, 2007

 “Goodbye” is said throughout our lives

Many times from day to day.

We seldom put a lot of thought into it.

It is simply something that we say.

If you take a moment to think about “good-bye,”

It IS a contradictory word.

Who placed “good” with “bye?”

That concept is absurd.

It is okay,

When you know it’s only for awhile.

You will see the person again,

And with that comes the smile. J

Then there is: “GOODBYE.”

Is that worse to hear or say?

It is a thief in the night …

Taking someone special away.

Short Story #2

At the age of 18, I worked in a men’s clothing store, the ideal job for a single female. It was called His Place, owned by Merry Go Round. (The Buckle/Hollister/Abercrombie of the 90's.) 

My manager told me we would be participating in a fashion show at a local club, to promote sales of our clothing, and I was in charge of orchestrating it. I would be working with the club manager.

My first reaction was dread as I assumed I would be paired with a perverted older man, the description of a club manager that first came to mind. I agreed and tried to mentally prepare for his ickyness, simply focusing on getting the models in place.

The evening of the show, my manager escorted me to the back of the club for the meet and greet with the man I would be working with that night. To my surprise, out walked a GORGEOUS man with long hair … my favorite preference. (My 1^st car date was a keyboard player with long hair.) For some reason, though I am not a musician, I was always intrigued by the rocker musician bad boys with long hair.

The club’s manager man was in his twenties and had the most striking eyes, smile and utterly sexy voice. He knew how to carry himself with no lack of confidence and had the mature, handsome five o’clock shadow facial stubble. It kept a rugged, edgy look attached to his business look, and both looked quite nice together. He had a raspy singer’s voice, was medium build and had the same length hair as me.

His opening line first words were, “Well, hello. You married?”

          I replied (most likely starry eyed,) “No.”

          Without hesitation, his response was, “Do you want to be?”

         

It was one of those, “You had me at hello” moments. The man was stunning. He and I got to work and proceeded with details of the show as I tried not to drool over him when he threw a flirt my way. A few days after, he came by the store to return the clothes. His casual wear looked as perfect on him as the GQ suit he was initially wearing. What a way that man had about him. 

Las Vegas

     

On a whim, (my favorite way to do most things,) I took a quick trip across the country to Las Vegas. 2 days and 1 night for $200, who could resist?

My sister and I left the airport at 6am Nashville time and landed a little before 11am Sin City time. We mapped out our agenda ever so carefully and hit the ground running, cramming four days worth into 1 ½. Our main objective ended up being to see 2, possibly 3 shows that night. We found a $100 special for all, so we narrowed it down to:

·        Criss Angel (an illusion master/magician)

·        Menopause (the musical) and of course,

·        THUNDER FROM DOWN UNDER. (For the unaware: Hot Australian men who dance to music and wear Velcro clothing. They seem to be very nice young men.)

Due to our lack of time and the show times, we could not see Menopause. Criss Angel was at 7pm and the Thunder boys at 9pm. After securing our tickets, we began covering some serious ground. There was shopping to be done and sights to be seen.

For the record, I simply canNOT comprehend the statement, “I don’t like Vegas.”

Cleaning Out Closets

          Though I am a deep thinker, my mind is quite simplistic. This week, I had a revelation. It is regarding relationships, healthy and unhealthy ones, along with an uncanny similarity to them and the clothes/items in my closet.

          My closet is a cluttered mess. There are things in there that I have not used in years and even things I do not like. Yet, I keep them securely nestled in an area I visit daily. Why?

          I suppose there is some emotional attachment. Some things may hold memories to places I went because I wore them on the day I visited. Others may have had a larger price tag and I feel I am throwing away good money. Some things “once fit” and I think they may fit again one day. Then, there are things that have been in there so long they have become part of my closet in my mind.

          The reality is:

Silent Love

Pa Pa was a quiet man.

Very few words did he say.

He sat silently in his chair,

Each and every day.

Pa Pa’s hearing was impaired

From years of a jack hammer’s use.

However, we knew that this was occasionally

Merely a convenient excuse.

It was funny how there were exceptions

When he could and couldn’t hear.

Somehow his ability coincidentally returned

Like when a small animal or child was near.

Time for New Year Resolutions…Let the Games Begin

Today officially begins the thrusting effort to dive into the completion of my novel. It is time for the re-write to commence.

As I have been allowing my labor of love to sit and marinate following it’s editing last summer, a repetitive question has been asked many times. “What’s going on with the book?”

          My pre-recorded response; “Nothing lately. I will get it back out at the end of the year or first of next year.”

          Well, here we are … it is the first of next year.

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I wonder about resolutions. Having never been one to participate in making New Year’s resolutions, I decided to join in the festivities and make this book my NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTION.

Possibly, the reason some of us are shy to such a declaration is fear. That chance of next December approaching and the scales still displaying the same weight, the unused gym membership access card evolving into a cruel reminder of our un-toned body, the bank account balance becoming smaller or debt accruing greater than it was in January, and so on. Who wants to look in those mirrors??

A Single Mom’s Christmas Poem

She prepared the surprises her girls would soon see.

The stockings were stuffed and gifts were under her tree.

She tried very hard to make the holiday bright,

Preparing memories to be made on this Christmas Eve night.

She decided to make a fun, new fresh memory for this holiday.

She always attempts to make things memorable in any small way.

The three of them got matching pajamas, just like an all girl team.

It gave them a girlish sense of fun, as small as it may seem.

They said their bedtime prayers and she kissed their sweet heads.

Then she smiled with joy as she tucked them in their beds.

Its time to do the final touches for the moment when they wake.

In just a few hours, she will watch the memories they will make.

She is thankful for her babies and that they will soon discover their gifts.

She hopes they will never long for what they all have missed.

She knows in many homes, the mom and dad are doing this together.

She thought when her family was starting that it would be forever.

Short Story #1

         “Hey Becca, do you have plans for lunch? I am free and thought I would come meet you.”

          “I sure don’t babe! I would love to see you. What time does it look like you will be coming this way?”

“Maybe 12:30-ish?”

“Sounds great! There is an amazing sushi restaurant 5 minutes from me … you feeling like sushi? The weather is so nice, we can eat outside!”

I finished tying up my loose ends and drove to Nashville to meet my sister, Becca. She is the oldest of four and is the leader of the pack; I am 2^nd to the youngest.

     As far as I go, she is my biggest fan, but shoots it straight when I need to be told the hard-core truth. (Primarily in reference of my need to get organized and “put everything in its place.” She is tidy and neat and I have piles everywhere. On occasion my messes will get the best of her and she comes over to help attack one room at a time … always amazed by what she finds in my hidden stashes.)

“What in the **** is THIS doing in here Emm?! Geez … this is like a **** treasure hunt.”

I smile and innocently say, “I like hidden surprises. I forget I have something, find it and feel like I went shopping!!”

Then, another spicy word flies and she goes about teaching me how to categorize and file … rather, attempting to teach me. I just can’t seem to totally get it. Poor girl, she has been repeating these steps for many years and hasn’t given up yet.

The Call I Feared

          Wednesday morning: I woke to my phone alarm, Mercy Me singing, “I Can Only Imagine.” The rain was hitting my bedroom window, just as it had done the day before. Uggghhh. Pouring rain and a 16 year old driver don’t mix well, especially when both of my children will be in the same car for the 15 minute drive to school in rush hour traffic … on an interstate. I stumbled to the bathroom and heard the radio DJ mention the numerous areas of standing water. Nice hydroplaning conditions.

My children’s father had driven them to school the day before because of the rain. I felt like the announcer was speaking TO me, so I decided to drive them on this day also. Needless to say, that went over like a led balloon to my driving, independent daughter. The idea escalated to an even more negative place in her mind as I made the next declaration …

Hearing God Speak

“Mom, how do you know when God is talking to you? Can you hear Him? Because if it is a voice I am listening for, I have never heard Him. I don’t understand how I’m supposed to know what He’s saying when He doesn’t talk in words with a voice.”

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For several months I suffered from prayer block. It was terrible. No matter how hard I tried to focus, I simply could NOT get that feeling of a discussion with God. I was talking to myself.

It happened after an extended period of time in intense prayer for the healing of a 9 year old boy, my hero. (I will call him Ean.) I believed God could and would heal him. When his healing happened on May 16, 2010, it broke me. I went through a phase of, “Why bother praying?!” I even ceased praying with my daughters because I felt like a fraudulent pray-er. All I was doing was talking and saying what we are “supposed to say” when we pray. I didn’t think it, feel it or mean it. My prayers were only words.

Abortion: Part I … A Child Asks Questions

(Read BEFORE Part II and III)
I would have appreciated a handbook or study guide for parenting. Seems like that could have been included with the take home care package the hospital generously gave me at the births of my children.

My 16 year old has my depth, but in addition, she is off the charts intellectually. Her sights are set on law school and I have no doubt she will be a success. I’m not sure about the legal terminology, but all I can say is I already feel for the people on the other side of the courtroom …

There has been a topic brewing in her head for a couple of weeks. She has brought it up several times, and seems to get more passionate each time. Though I am the parent, I have no answer to her perplexing question. She debates it out loud as she attempts to discover what SHE really feels about several issues this topic brings to the table.

Due to the depth and sensitivity of this topic, I have done a lot of thinking and no writing for a week and a half. My oversensitive heart does not want to probe in an uncomfortable area. However, my daughter asking these questions has prompted many things within me and it is worth my uncomfortable feelings to write them. This is real life …

Abortion Part II ... Speaking With Someone Who Chose Abortion

(Read AFTER Part I)
Below is a question/answer session with a woman who chose abortion, my sweet friend. She has given a voice in a way I could not. There is a poem she found online that she related to, and personalized it for her situation. I am not sure if it will have the same effect on someone who does not personally know and love one in her shoes as I do, but for me, I wept.
   This is connected with 2 other posts; I separated it because it is not written by me. Here are the words from a woman who has been through abortion ...

Abortion PART III … A Poem About Abortion

(This email alert should come as the 1^st of a 3 part blog. Read it last. I posted them backwards. They will read from top to bottom in order on the site.)

I wrote this in honor of my friend before I had even spoken with her about my daughter’s thoughts, or read the other poem. My heart was warmed to see the similarities in the two. I understand a soul sister a bit better now. Hopefully another person can too …

She Smiles

She Smiles

A dark room could be illuminated, when she simply smiles.

She can keep a radiating glow through all life’s tribulations and trials.

Her happiness and joy are pure and genuine, clearly coming from within.

There is seldom a moment in time when her face is not adorned with a grin.

Her laughter seems more contagious than a common cold.

She can captivate an audience, no matter how young or old.

Many wonder how anyone can be so happy and content.

Her delight in people and life are surely heaven sent.

Where did this energy come from? Why does she have a smile on her face?

Is she in a fairy tale world, or permanently stuck in her happy place?

What is it about her that makes her stand out in the crowd?

What has she done, what does she have, that makes her feel so proud?

One day I decided to sit back and watch her. I became a private eye.

Tears of Pain, Tears of Joy

From a child’s perspective,

Tears only fall only when things are bad.

They come from physical pain,

Or when our hearts are sad.

A young girl once learned a difference …

She was introduced to “tears of joy.”

The first time she saw them was when her mom

First held their new little boy.

“Mommy, we are happy!

Why are your eyes crying those tears?”

The mommy explained to her baby,

“My love … you will understand in a few years.”

This little girl was confused at first,

But only for a minute or two.

Her Barbie needed an outfit change

And she had pretend schoolwork to do!

She continued knowing tears only came in sadness,

And with happiness came a smile.

Then, that changed one day many years later …

Birmingham Hair Show

       A glimpse into a stylist’s 2 days at a hair show/convention:
          If a person does not have an affiliation with the industry, he/she would not be allowed through the doors of our unique world to see the sights. Therefore, I will give you a peep ...

Remembering Nanny...451

         13 years ago today my Nanny went to heaven. However, it was 13 years and 14 days when she left in the way I had always known her. (This is not a glum, dismal writing that makes climbing under a rock look fun. Promise.)
           I remember …

          I was 4 or 5 months pregnant with my 2^nd child. I spoke with Nanny about 3:30 pm and she sounded a little strange, but she assured me she was fine. We made plans to visit in the upcoming days because I had some vacation time. I went about my day ... until the phone rang that night.

Behind the Hairstyling Chair…Shallow People, BEWARE

When you come across this entry, maybe save it to read it when you have time to think. It’s pretty deep and long. Like a mini-novel blog. 
      I compare “depth to shallow” in a pool-style, body-of-water way. People are like pools.

·        Kiddie pools- great for simple, shallow wading.

·        Standard pools- the choice for casual swimming.

·        Olympic pools- for diving deep.

·        Then, there is the OCEAN- Endlessly deep and complex, with no end in sight.

It would be helpful and nice if some people wore signs, “NO DIVING ALLOWED.”

  Deep people would appreciate that warning and it would spare a lot of wasted time and energy. Diving into a kiddie pool only hurts the one trying to go deep, but doesn’t affect the shallow pool. In contrast, kiddies don’t belong in the deep end, and certainly NOT in the ocean. So, if you don't like deep. You surely will NOT enjoy ...

(On a shallow/deep note, I happen to have a favorite number. It's 11. After posting, I noticed the time posted was 11:11. J Those things feel like winks from God, kisses from angels and a smile from a face I have never seen. ^^^)

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Dancing In The Rain … The Attack of the Intestines

It’s funny how bad times bring about a sense of gratitude. I am always more thankful for the basics after enduring a darker side. {**If you cannot stomach bodily function discussions, stop reading here. Skip to the bottom for “Dancing in the Rain” poem**}

          My body woke me yesterday morning just before 4am with a feeling of sickness. For the record, I have a horrible fear of 3 things:

Take a Vacation or Not? SERIOUSLY?!

My friend who resembles Barbie says: “I’m so excited! I won a trip to go on a 3 day cruise and I can take 1 guest. I think I am going to take______.” (A man she has dated on and off; a relationship I would describe as tumultuous.)

         

Me: “Oh dear heavens! Have you lost your mind? Why would you take that chance? (Possibly, I am a bit too direct and honest at times …) A vacation is not a time to take such a risk. No one should be allowed near vacations if you KNOW they rain on parades … ESPECIALLY when your parade is FREE! My 2 cents is