Perspiration glistens on your skin.
I hold you close and take you in,
Savor your essence before we begin.
You smell of wickedness, taste like sin,
And I’m a glutton for damnation.
Lost in your nectar I start to spin.
You’ve played me like a violin,
Left me ailing once again.
You never seem to let me win.
Photography: http://fav.me/d8yotki
I never really could fit in,
That was my sin.
They did condemn
Those not like them.
They made me want to run and hide.
They crushed my pride.
I was too meek
To be unique.
But now I live my life out loud,
Despite the crowd.
I have grown wise.
My freak flag flies.
“Blessed are the weird people–poets, misfits, writers, mystics…painters & troubadours–for they teach us to see the world through different eyes.” ~Jacob Nordby
Image found on pinterest.com
Dad, tell me a story,
Please just one more.
Tell me a bedtime fable
Like you did before.
One more story son,
Before I say goodnight.
I will tell you a tale that
I wish I could rewrite.
It is the legend
Of the Chosen One,
How at the end of life
His journey’d just begun.
He was exceptional,
Young, strong, unique,
An extraordinary soul,
The sort the deities seek.
They called upon him
Abruptly one late night.
With eternal darkness closing in,
They were desperate for his light.
Of course he was the pillar
They knew that he would be.
He didn’t hesitate to ask,
What do you need from me?
We need you to come with us.
You’ll know what to do,
But there is time for only one
To bid farewell to you.
The war between good and evil
Comes with a great cost.
To the others you’ll be gone,
To them you will be lost.
Return me to my father,
The source of this great power.
It is him I want to see
In my final hour…
Wait Dad, tell me now
Is this legend true?
Have I been sent here
Just to bid adieu?
Yes, it is real.
Tonight we say goodbye.
You are the Chosen One.
You, my son, can fly.
I don’t want to go, Dad.
I don’t wish to leave!
Please don’t cry father.
I can’t stand to see you grieve.
It’s alright my boy.
You will visit again my dreams,
And together we will fly
Amidst the silver moonbeams.
When you can’t see me Dad,
Know I am still near.
I will watch over you and
All those I hold dear.
I know you will, son.
I am so very proud.
You are my hero now,
Go soar among the clouds.
Photo by Steven Northup-Smith
Here is letter 2 of 10 in Jenny In Neverland‘s letter writing challenge. Technically I am taking liberties with this week’s topic. The subject is actually “Letter to your children or future children” (see Jenny’s sweet post here: Letter Challenge #2). I have children, 3 to be exact. They are all in the present and there will be no more in the future. Of my 3 children, 2 are adults. I could write them a letter, and I think they’d love it. However, I’ve been sharing my stories and wisdom (for what it’s worth) with them since they were born. It’s time to reach the next generation. Grandbaby #1 is due this November. This letter is for him/her.
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Hey Lil’ Thumper!
It’s your Gigi, aka “fun grandma”. So why is Gigi calling you “Thumper”? Well, because it’s better than “Nugget”. See, we won’t find out until this Friday, June 27, 2014 whether you are a boy or a girl. When I first learned that you were coming, rather than say “he/she”, I referred to you as Nugget. A few weeks ago, your Mom and Dad let me crash one of your doctor’s appointments. I got to hear your heartbeat. I decided you sounded more like a Thumper than a Nugget. Gigi is a little silly, but by the time you can read this, you will already know that.
Lucky for you, little one, I learned how to be a grandma from the best. Both my Minga and my Grandma, your great-great grandmas, were excellent role models. I will take my favorite things from childhood and pass them on to you. I was never much of a breakfast eater, unless I was at my Minga’s house. She always had the good stuff. Even better, she would make me anything I wanted. Yep, whatever I chose for breakfast, that’s what we would all eat. It wasn’t like at home where you have to eat whatever Mom & Dad put in front of you. She was really good at back rubs too. We watched Tigers Baseball and I would tell her “tickle my back”, then “scratch my back”, and finally, “rub my back”. There is a proper order to these things, not many people know that. Good thing I had Minga and you have me.
My Grandma was “crumby”. No, I’m not being mean. After a long day of making candy, Grandma and I would climb into bed with arms full of cookies and crackers to watch TV. She was just as messy an eater as I was. By the time we finished our snacks, the bed would be full of crumbs. Grandma would tease and say, “you’re such a crumby grandkid.” In turn I would tell her, “you’re a crumby grandma!” I can’t wait to watch movies in bed with MY crumby grandkid! I hope one day you have siblings and/or cousins that can join us for sleepovers too. Just like my sister and I did, we will lay in bed and take turns making up stories. Your great-aunt Carly always threw some storyline involving poop in there. Grandma was cool so she didn’t get in trouble. We would just laugh and laugh. I can’t wait to hear the sound of your laughter!
When I think of the fun and joy you will bring into my life one day soon, I get a little teary eyed. Don’t think much of it. It’s something grown-ups do, cry when we’re happy. I look forward to the day we all get to meet you. I want to count your 10 fingers, nibble your 10 toes, kiss your chubby cheeks, smell your baby smell, and savor tiny cuddles. I can’t wait to read you bedtime stories. I’m already working on writing you one too. Your Mom & Dad, uncles, grandmas and grandpas, great-grandparents, great-great grandparents, great aunts & great uncles, and all of the family in between are also giddy with excitement. You’re already loved and adored, and we don’t even know your name yet.
Prepare to be spoiled, kiddo.
I LOVE YOU!
Gigi
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If you missed my first post in this challenge: Letter to an Alien (Letter Challenge #1)
Image from http://www.grandmaandgrandpagifts.com/
Could this home invasion ordeal finally be nearing its finale? Just a few weeks short of a full year after it happened, it looks like it is.
I received my subpoena for trial over 2 weeks ago. We were ordered to appear at 8:30am, Monday, June 23, 2014. The very prospect of court hung over me like a dark cloud the entire time that document was affixed to my refrigerator. I had testified at this man’s preliminary hearing. Having a victim take the stand during a prelim is actually highly irregular but the defense was desperate. Despite the claim of the defense attorney to the contrary, I think they just wanted to rattle me. On the inside, it worked. Fortunately I was able to maintain my composure. On the outside, I was bulletproof. Anyway, I was particularly anxious on Sunday night. I didn’t want to go AGAIN, but even more, I just wanted this to end. I lost count of how many hearings and status updates we attended between this guy & his accomplice, but let’s just ballpark it at 10. We called in as required to find out that our scheduled appearance had been delayed. They no longer needed us first thing, just the prosecutor and detective. We were instructed to call and check status again at 11:00am on Monday.
The delay was just more time for the angst to rise. Jariel Herbert was guilty. I knew it. He knew it. The prosecutor, the lead detective, and the defense attorney knew it. Hell, with all of the back and forth, “I will plea”, “I won’t plea”, I’m pretty sure the judge knew it too. Yet for months this snake put his every effort into slithering out of the ramifications of his actions. He spun elaborate tales. He convinced others to lie for him. The prosecution was sick as hell of dealing with him. When I spoke with prosecutor Boer last week, he seemed defeated. He was nearly willing to make a ridiculously generous plea deal just to rid his desk of this compulsive liar’s file. I wouldn’t have it.
So, it looked very much like we were headed for trial. I assumed jury selection would begin after plea talks failed once again. Much to my surprise (and from what I understand, the surprise of Jariel’s own lawyer) Jariel Herbert stood in front of the judge and finally admitted his guilt. He suddenly and unexpectedly admitted to the charge of home invasion in the first degree. The prosecution only had to drop the conspiracy charge (which was the deal on the table for months). I don’t know why he changed his mind in the final hour, but his decision lifted a weight I had carried for nearly a year.
I have one more trip to the courthouse on my agenda. I will be at sentencing to speak my mind in front of the judge. After that I will be obtaining a copy of all court transcripts related to this case and assembling the complete true story of what happened in the early morning hours of July 8, 2013, and the subsequent events that were set into action because of it.
Oh, and to update you on the outcome after my post I’ve Had Enough (a rant), Jariel’s accomplice, Tommy Libbet, has been apprehended. Thanks to a couple of tips (one that generated from my post) we were able to narrow his location to pretty much my own backyard. Community officers took him in last Monday. His sweet plea deal is out the window. This is the latest in the 19 year old’s vast collection of mug shots.
Images from https://www.accesskent.com/InmateLookup/
Carrie Mayhem 