Sand and Fog

I am walking on sand with an uneven gait. I feel the fog rolling around me; surrounding me-touching me with its chill….

If it’s not broke…don’t fix it.  This is something that I have heard all my life.  Yet, I will try to fix things that maybe should just be left alone.  I am sure that there are good reasons for it-but at the moment they simply evade me.  This thought has been with me for awhile now.

Changes have hit me lately and they are still changing around me-inside me.  Life kicking me in the ass or maybe it was just the simple fact that I had the wrong friend.  I think that is more it than anything else.  I do have to chuckle a little-I remember being a judgmental bitch at one point in my life.  Life turned around and did the same to me by another.  The cycle will not end-it will keep going until lessons are learned.  My lesson was learned a long time ago but karma still had some life left for me.  Hopefully this is the last of it.  I have to learn not to trust; maybe that will save some grief.

Today I was asked a question. It killed me and needless to say, it also blurred my vision as tears filled my eyes.  Mom is not well and my daughter sees this as well.  She asked if we would be homeless if grandma died.  My family is not kind-they see only the money that will be theirs when mom passes on.  We have continued to live with Mom since Dad’s death.  I told her not to worry; when the time comes things will be as they are supposed to be.  Well at least that is my hope.  I can’t tell her that I am also very worried about this.  Now is not the time for changes; our protection died with my Father.  These days it is I who is protecting Mom; she is fading fast.

Someone once told me that his family had the trappings of wealth yet when anyone looked deeper-the reality is very different.  People see what they want to see and place their expectations upon that person.  When I look at things around me I remember that statement and wonder if my reality is what people see or imagine.

…I am cold and I cannot get warm.   I hear the sounds of the waves crashing on the rocks below.  The lonely sound of the foghorn cuts through the fog.  It does little to soothe my soul.

© july 4 2011/cb

Living Ink

My fingers slowly trace the lines of the last letter you wrote to me.  Funny how with the simple sensation of the ink raised upon a simple sheet of paper can invoke such memories – feelings.  My eyes slowly well with tears – there is too much pain still.

 

Still holding that precious sheet of tangible memory, I take a deep breath to hold myself together.  I try to clear my mind, still my heart, quiet my soul but it does me no good.  At unexpected times of the day – it hits with a vengeance.  Try as I might I can’t let go.

 

It has been four years but still you are deep inside me.  The flavor of your skin and your scent is still embedded in my memory.  Your laughter resonates in my mind – I hear your voice at odd times.  There are times where I see you or at least that is what my eyes seem to think.

 

This letter – this living ink – is all that is left of you.  We live on in my mind and I am going crazy….

 

 

© cb-june 2011

 

Soul Path

 

From the moment she spoke with him she knew there was something there-a connection that could not be denied.  There was a comfort-a warmth-a desire that was felt.  It was a line of electricity-a path that was travelled before though neither one of them knew it at the time.

 

Old souls-isn’t it what they call it?  No wait-soul mates; yes that was it.  How many times had she had this conversation with her friends; all of us gathered in a bar or at dinner while we spouted the beatitudes of soul mates. Nothing prepared her for what happened tonight.  She was floored!  She had never felt this instant recognition of another soul before.  To know his touch before it was even upon her skin.  To feel his heartbeat-his scent-his laughter!  She never thought-well maybe she over-thought!

 

It had started out slowly-a lovers dance.  Slow, sensual in every nuance.  Conversation was easy-the small gestures were natural. The feeling of trust was mutual.  It was not questioned at all.  As the evening progressed; they became lost in each other’s eyes-drowning within each other.  Before they realized what was happening-here they were.

 

His touch set off electricity within her.  Her reactions were swift and sure-it was what he craved-needed.  She knew his needs as sure as she knew her own; without hesitation she followed where her soul led.  She was inside him; his mind; his heart; his soul.  She closed her eyes and his touch took over her body.  His lips; tongue; his tenderness; his scent-all combined in a heady perfume. Their mutual need fueled their passions combining and entwining their souls even more. Where he led-she followed blindly; mirroring all of his moves without thought-just instinct.  The night passed into the early morning hours.  Passionate moaning hit crescendos neither had experienced in the recent past-nothing prepared them for the explosions within them.  It left them drained but happy.

 

She turned to watch his face as the moonlight softly lit his features.  His face strong and masculine yet there was a softness about it.  Never mind the shadow growing on his face-she wanted to touch him but feared waking him.  His dark hair tousled from the nights love-making was endearing to her. Instead she snuggled up closer to him; he turned and with a naturalness of habit; he put his arms around her and held her.

 

His words still whispered in her mind “The path of my soul is toward you”…

 

 

©2011 may/cb

 

 

Betrayed

She drove through traffic with a huge smile on her face;

“Oh I love the feel of you.  You are mine. You will never leave me.  I will decide when to get rid of you and not the other way around”.

She purred as she caressed the steering wheel.  Yes she was enjoying this ride-not as luxurious as the last one but still she had to appreciate the feel-suddenly she felt her stomach turn-she pulled over-nausea hit her.  Her mind was working overtime as she picked up the phone.  Her hands tight upon the boost mobile she paged her husband.  He answered in what seemed hours;

“Mercedes how do you like the car?”

He asked.  Her heart slowed down as she answered

“It’s beautiful!  How can I not like it?  But…I am afraid.  The last time you gave me a new car, it was because of Linda.  You cheated with…with her and I was rewarded with a new car.  A conscious wiped clean with a gift.  Is it like this now?”  Her nausea worsened while she waited for his answer.

“I am glad that you like it.  No. No. That is not the reason for the gift. Will you ever forgive me?  Look I am just finishing with a meeting here at the hospital.  I should be home in a couple of hours.  I’ll meet you there”

“Are you sure?  Who are you with?  Tell me!” her hands were trembling.

“I promise you my love.  There is no one else. Please, I have patients waiting.”

“Alright my love, I will see you then”

Still she had her doubts.  She slowed down to make a right turn; it was then that she looked up and realized that her screaming instincts were correct.  The car had been a gift of guilt-another woman-another sin.  There he was embracing a woman outside a luxurious townhome-he did not see her.  Rage started to fill her.

A few hours before; he was in bed trying to get into a romantic mood.  He couldn’t so he just got out of bed and dressed.

“Not again!  What is wrong this time?”  She pouted as she tried to bring him back into bed.

“NO.  I just can’t today.  I am not in the mood” Truth was he was getting tired of her.

“Are you sure that you are not in the mood or could it be that you are getting tired of me?  You better not or I will have a story to tell.  You know how your wife will react.”   She said in a very snippy voice.

Hearing her tone, he decided he would smooth things over for the moment.  He did not need any more drama.

“Sweetheart, Kristy, I promise I will make it better.  Just give me some time.  I need to dress and get home.  I have business worries. ”

In the hallway, as they were walking toward the entrance-his phone rang.  It was Mercedes. As he was as he was talking to her and trying to placate her, Kristy walked away in disgust.  He hurriedly finished his conversation with Mercedes and ran after Kristy.  He could not afford another scandal.

He remembered the last time.  It had been about 3 years ago; he had been in one of the examination rooms with Linda, the new secretary.  She was 22 and he could not resist.  He had been bedding her for a few months-his appetite for her just increasing.  Mercedes herself walked into the room not expecting to find him exposed as he was with Linda.  She had surprised them both.  The shock on her face mixing with the tears that started to flow almost left him limp-almost. He had pulled up his pants and ran after her, leaving Linda to fend for herself.  He knew he had to do something or he would lose his business.  Linda had sworn she would get even after he fired her.  That story of her pregnancy was just that-a story. There has been no word from her since that day.  He had stopped worrying.

He caught Kristy just as she reached the street.  He took her in his arms and kissed her.

“Don’t get angry.  I promise things will get better” He was hoping that this would calm her down.

Kristy responded simply with a look, then

“Don’t worry.  I promise not to bother you anymore.”

She turned quickly and almost ran.  She was not going to tell him that she was pregnant.

Frustrated he started after her but realized he was late.  Taking a quick look at his watch he turned to cross the street to his car.

Mercedes just saw red. All reason was swept from her mind.  She left the car with gun in hand.  She stood by one of the garden columns and watched as her husband kissed this woman.  She was blinded by her rage and hurt.

“Funny how life repeats itself” was the thought Linda had on her mind.  She was watching from across the street at the scene being played out before her.  Not too long ago she was in that woman’s shoes.  He played with her, made her think there was a future. He got rid of her like a used rag.  She went through her pregnancy alone and without support.  Anger stirred in her.  Her breathing came in harder breaths.  Ever since that day when he had laughed at her and then fired her, she had sought revenge.  It looked like the perfect opportunity has presented itself.  She would get even with him and with Mercedes.  She watched as Mercedes left the car with the gun.  The car was still running-she was in a hurry. Now was her chance.

A shot rang out as the woman ran past her.  In horror she watched her new car start to gather speed striking a man as he crossed the street-screeching away leaving him lifeless.  The woman’s body hit the ground showing no signs of life. The gun was still smoking in her hand.  Her screams echoed in her mind and would not stop.

 

 

©2011 feb/cb

Valentine’s Day Card

I shopped and shopped for the PERFECT card

But alas-there was not one to be had!

So in despair there came an idea

What better than to write an original one!

So here I am-writing and writing

Many drafts are scattered about me on the floor

My frustration growing more-desperation stepping in

I close my eyes for a moment-taking a deep breath

Now my pen starts to flow

Words start to bleed from the pen tip

Stroke upon stroke-periods and commas

Capital letters and exclamation points

 

 

My heart-my love-my everything!

How many times can one say that?

How many different ways are there?

Poets of the ages have won me on this

After what seems hours

Finally I take a long look at what I have written

My eyes start to tear; my heart trembles

A realization hits home true

Taking a clean piece of parchment

With fluid and graceful hand I write

“I love You!”

Simple and sincere

 

 

My Valentine’s Day card

Sent to you with pure and simple love

Desire contained in that simple phrase

Sealed with a kiss

 

 

©2011 feb/cb

 

 

Valentine’s Day

She missed the scent of the flowers that were delivered as a “surprise”; along with the small surprises of chocolates – and the cards.  Oh yes, those cards.  Cards filled with sentiments of “I love you!” or crazy comic messages hiding the blush of first love.  She had a box of memories somewhere – she just could not remember where.

All around her there were the signs of the coming holiday-Valentine’s Day.  In years past there was no shortage of flowers and cards but those have slowly trickled down to nothing.  She did not begrudge those who sent nor those who received.  She was happy for them.

The sun felt good against her skin.  It made her drowsy.  She must have drifted off because when she woke there were strangers sitting with her.  They were all smiling and one was crying.  They brought her flowers – and chocolates!

Her daughter tried to hide her tears but could not.  The woman seated in front of her was not the woman she knew as Mom.  Alzheimer’s has slowly taken that woman away.  A small part of her was still seen in the pleasure she took when she saw the flowers and the chocolates.

©2011 feb/cb

Disconnect

“Damnit!!!”

Cursing out loud; she breathed in deeply. She thought she could handle it. No wait, she was lying to herself. She knew she could not. When he had asked a few weeks back, she ignored the question hoping that maybe it was just rhetoric. Sadly, it was not.

It has been such a great time. The connection was awesome between them. Normally she did not get attached so quickly but she found herself looking forward to talking with him. Soon it turned into more but that damn statement of his. He sure got through her walls.

“Damnit! Damnit!! Damnit!!!”

Her eyes welled with tears. She stubbornly wiped them away. Good thing she held it together until he left. Her heart was still pounding with pain. She needed to disconnect somehow. Unplug those feelings. She bit her lower lip as she held back pain.

Men! But then it was her fault too. She allowed herself to become involved knowing that there may be nothing there and he had a roving eye.

“Disconnect, need to disconnect”

Those were her last thoughts as she drifted into troubled sleep.

©2011 feb/cb

 

Strait Jackets

I had just finished with the small rush moments before so I was taking a small breather when he walked into the shop.  A regular at the shop, I knew he wanted coffee and to be left alone.  I poured the coffee as he sat at the counter.  The town was preparing for the Polar Plunge – an event I think of as idiotic but it brings in business.

Walking to end of the counter where the suggestion box was placed; each night I check it and each night there is nothing in it.  I wish this night was over – my feet are killing me!  I need to get better support in my shoes.

I went back to him to refill his cup as he was pulling out his notepad and pen.  He wrote something down; mumbled something about a walk in this wind; paid and walked out…passing the suggestion box along the way.  He dropped that note he was writing into the box.

As I finished closing; refilled the sugars, the salt and pepper shakers; I remembered the suggestion box.  Curiosity got the best of me – I had to read what he wrote.  My eyes opened wide and laughter spilled forth from inside me; he had written “I suggest weighted strait jackets for the crazy people”. I left the suggestion in the box for the promoters of the Polar Plunge to read.

©2011 jan/cb

 

La Fea Mas Bella – Plain Jane

La Fea Mas Bella

Me quedé a tu lado incluso cuando no me veas
Me llevó todas tus preocupaciones sin que ni siquiera supieras

Mi belleza es muy anodino - incluso se puede decir fea
Sé que no soy un trofeo para mostrar y mucho menos quiere

Mi voz era un zumbido molesto - hasta que necesitas algo de mi
Entonces en ese momento – con una claridad – si escuchas mi voz

En algún lugar a lo largo de la línea, que finalmente te distes cuenta de que yo si estaba allí
Mi belleza interior finalmente estalló a través de ese escudo ciega tuyo

Sí, allí estaba yo … pero demasiado tarde te das cuenta de esto
¿Cuándo empezaste a notar? ¿Cuándo comenzó ese momento de tener algún sentimiento por mí?

Ahora tu voz es el molesto zumbido en el oído
Un recuerdo lejano y un herido demasiado grande que obligadamente ha sido suprimida.

Yo soy la mujer fea que te quido con ternura y sin recriminación
ahora … quien me dara socorro cuando yo lo necesito mas?

~~~

Plain Jane

I stood by your side even when you don’t see me

I bore all your worries without you even knowing

My beauty is very nondescript – you can even say ugly

I know that I am not a trophy for you to display and much less want

My voice was an annoying buzz – until you wanted something

Then at that moment, with clarity you hear my voice

Somewhere along the line, you finally realized that I was there

My inner beauty finally burst through that blind shield of yours

Yes, I was there…but too late do you realize this

When did you start to notice? When did you start to have any feeling for me?

Now your voice is the annoying buzz in my ear

A distant memory; a grievous hurt; which has been forced to be suppressed.

I am the ugly woman who nursed you

Now…who will nurse me?

 

©2011 jan/cb

 

The Scar

It was 9:00am and she was running late.  What a day for traffic to be dense!  Her appointment with the surgeon was at 10am and she still needed to find parking.  This day had been planned for a few weeks but it seemed like it was just that…a plan.  Reality was starting to hit her as she maneuvered through the heavy traffic.  In the distance she saw the outline of the hospital through the treetops.  Her heart started to pound just a little harder.

 

She argued with her Mother this morning before leaving the house.  She wanted to come along but then…what would she be able to do in the event of a problem?  Her Mom could not drive and the thought of her just sitting in the waiting room for her…made her more nervous.  Besides, she was in a place where if she needed medical help; well it was a hospital after all.

 

Refocusing on her driving, she honked her car horn at an idiot who cut her off.  There was the parking structure ahead.  The lot had some construction that needed to be done so she had to go slow.  A spot opened up on the second floor which she promptly took.  The sound of the engine died with the turn of her key.  The silence in the car filled her inside.  It made her tremble.  Taking a deep breath, making sure that only the essentials were in her purse, she opened the car door and stepped outside.

 

As she walked, her thoughts touched on many things; her work, her friends, her family, her fiancé and the scar that will soon be on her face.  Yes, that scar is really what was weighing her down.  She had a career in modeling which was fun and earned her a financial reward.  Her face was always her calling card-and now.  With a deep sigh, she walked into the doctors’ waiting room.

 

The receptionist greeted her with a smile, took her information and directed her to a chair.  All was quiet.  There were patients with bandaged faces, arms-hands.  A few had casts.  Nervous looks were on new patients.  She smiled to herself as she knew how they certainly felt!  She had not been sitting for too long before her name was called.  She was not ready but she followed the nurse.

 

The day surgery room was clean-sterile certainly had meaning here.  Her vitals were taken-blood pressure.  She supposed that it was the right thing to do and yes, her blood pressure was fine.  As instructed she disrobed and put on the fashionable medical gown.  You would think that through the years these things would get better somehow.  They were certainly functional.  The nurse was polite and professional yet she took the time to make her less nervous.  Still, those lights above her and the sterile operating bed did nothing to relieve her anxiety.  The surgeon came in, as always, a professional yet she gentle while she examined the area to be operated upon.  She promised not to make the cut too long; though she was a plastic surgeon she could only promise that the scar would not be too long.

 

As she lay on the bed, the nurse swabbed her with sterile chemical and then covered her face with sterile towels.  The nurse made sure that her eyes were protected from the bright surgical lights. Her face now covered and hidden from the lights, she started to feel a detachment; maybe this would not be so bad. Soon enough, the surgeon was injecting the area with local anesthetics.  One, two, three…needle pinpricks into the skin.  Four, five, six…the numbing sensation started to kick in; seven, eight injections…with that, it that was enough.  The surgeon asked if she could feel anything.  There was no feeling, maybe a pressure but that was it.  Throughout the procedure, the surgeon spoke to her nurse and spoke with her.  She felt the pulling and the tugging as the surgeon did her work on her face.  She felt confidence in the surgeon’s skills.  Still there was a nagging fear of a scarred appearance.  Next, the cauterization of the wound on her face; the surgeon warned her that she might smell something but that would be it.  Unfortunately, there was a little pain on the edge of the wound. The surgeon quickly gave her another prick or two of anesthesia-no more pain.  A final tug, the surgeon pulled out the mass that had been growing under her skin.  The surgeon asked if she had had this for awhile as there was a great deal of scarring under the skin and around the mass.  She could tell that it had been a problem for longer than just a short time.  She did not want to tell the surgeon that it had been awhile and she was afraid to come in to have it removed.

 

Throughout the procedure, she clearly hear the initial cut on her skin, the tugs and the pulls, the sizzle of her skin as the wound was sealed with heat, the cutting of the silk as it was cut when the sutures were completed.  It was an experience and a worry.

All she thought about was how bad would the scar really be.

 

©2011 jan/cb