life

Xanadu

SFoxWriting’s Alphabet Challenge ~ “X”

So the letter “X” fell on my 40th birthday. I was tempted to post nothing but pictures of this date from different calendars all crossed out with giant “X”s. However, I’m not THAT mad about it. Besides, it was a lot more fun to write about my favorite place on planet Earth, my Xanadu, the cottage. My Dad has this amazing escape on a lake up north. There are no motors allowed on the lake. It is quiet. There is no cell phone reception. It is peaceful. We are surrounded by hills and trees. It is beautiful. We have fires and roast marshmallows. It is entertaining. When the silence needs to be broken, we ride ATVs or do some target practice. It is utopia.

Still
Pure crisp air
Placid blue waters
Escape to serenity
Peace
Calm
It is here that I am found
When life goes astray
My Eden
Home

The beach house rules are easy to follow, and contain a few “x”s.

Why?

SFoxWriting’s Alphabet Challenge ~ “W”

Why?
In all the galaxies
Universe wide,
Every star that lives,
Every star that’s died,
In all the worlds
That circle a sun,
Of those solar systems,
We occupy this one.
On all the continents
Across our planet,
In every country,
Countless do inhabit,
Generations past,
Or not yet conceived,
Every birth celebrated,
Or each death we’ve grieved,
Only you are you,
And this is your time,
An existence barely measurable
In the scope of mankind.
Do you consider it
When you look at the sky?
Do you ponder the unlikelihood
And ask yourself why?

Photo courtesy of National Geographic

Sons

SFoxWriting’s Alphabet Challenge ~ “S”

This challenge has given me the unique opportunity to introduce everyone to my awesome family. Today I focus all of my attention on my sons, my oldest child, Steven and my youngest, Brandon. The age difference between my boys is nearly 10 years, still they are close. Brandon stays over at Steven’s apartment. They eat pizza and play video and board games like brothers should. I see a lot of Steven in Brandon. The featured image is evidence of that. Those pictures were taken years apart in completely different states. They have the same freckles, the same eyes, the same mannerisms, the same sense of humor. However, for all of their similarities, they have just as many differences.

Steven is extremely driven. He is a biopsychology major in his 3rd year of college. His focus is cognitive psychology and he hopes to obtain a PhD. Steven receives scholarship money and keeps a job as a barista to pay most of his college expenses. He is also a captain on his school’s Ultimate team. He loves music. I lost count of how many instruments he can play. Despite his busy schedule, Steven is well balanced. He has many friends and enjoys the full college experience. Perhaps most importantly, he is an incredible big brother.

Brandon is the most laid back individual I have ever known. He is quiet, a little shy, very sweet, and loves a good lazy Sunday. His technology skills are impressive for a kid his age. At 2 years old he would belly up to the computer, manipulate the mouse, get on the internet, find the right bookmark, and navigate to his favorite game, completely unassisted. Brandon loves to help in the kitchen. It’s the only thing he likes more than screen time. He has taken several cooking classes at a local bistro.

Brothers
Two boys so alike
The reflection in their eyes
Echos of one another

Two boys bound by blood
Distinctive aspirations
Minds and spirits all their own

Raw & Real

SFoxWriting’s Alphabet Challenge ~ “R”

First and foremost, Happy International Day of Poetry! Also, happy 96th birthday to my Minga! She is my paternal grandmother. I couldn’t say “Grandma” when I was little; it came out “Minga”. My kids and I still call her that to this day. She is a remarkable woman.

While there is much to celebrate, it is bittersweet. Today is also the anniversary of my maternal grandfather’s passing. He was younger than my mother is now when he left this world. It was a life-changing event for many.

Days like today are exactly why I write. I’m jubilant. I want to celebrate. Not everyone my age still has a living grandmother. I have two, both of whom celebrate birthdays this month. They bring great happiness into this world. I am so fortunate. At the same time, I’m melancholy and filled with regret. While I have my grandmas, I don’t have my grandpas. I wasn’t as close to my maternal grandfather as I should have been. There are all sorts of reasons why, none of which are important to me now. I should have known him better. I should have visited more. Conversely, I was very close to my paternal grandfather. He was a character larger than life. He too would also have celebrated a birthday this month. My eyes well with tears as I type. I miss them both. Words, be they stories or poetry or simple ramblings, are therapeutic. It’s an incredible mechanism for dealing with such extreme conflicts of emotion.

On the day my grandfather passed 25 years ago, the words that helped me cope came in the form of poetry:
Dear Grandpa,
Just where do I start?
There are so many
Things in my heart.

I loved you so much,
I now miss you the same.
You had a special touch.
When I needed it, you came.

Why did I wait ‘til now –
Until it was too late,
To tell you how I feel,
To say “Grandpa, you’re great!”?

I am so sorry!
It just isn’t fair.
There was no warning
No time to tell you “I care”.

Everyone tells me,
“Be strong for your Mom”,
But who’s being strong for me
Now that you’re gone?

I loved you too.
I know I wasn’t the greatest,
But the words I say are true.

Grandpa, I miss you,
And I will always, always love you.

I know, it’s not exactly a masterpiece painted of words. However, it’s raw. It’s real. It’s a 15 year old kid figuring out how to deal with death for the first time. It’s something I last read years ago. It stirs up some powerful stuff even after all of this time. Mom, I’m sorry. I know this post will be tough for you.

On an unrelated note, but while I’m being real, there is one more quick thing… Yesterday I blogged my 50th post. It was a thrilling milestone. I don’t know if it was my excitement, if I rushed, if I was careless or lazy or what, but after my post had been published for several hours, I found a typo. I was mortified. Immediately I scrambled to correct it, but could only think of those who had already seen it. It gets better. Several more hours passed before another typo was brought to my attention – complete, total, utter humiliation (combined with extreme gratitude for the friend who pointed it out so I could fix it). I realize that everybody who read yesterday’s post, my 50th no less, saw my errors. I couldn’t just let that go. I had to say something. My readers, I apologize. I am sincerely sorry.

“You might not write well every day, but you can always edit a bad page. You can’t edit a blank page.” ~Jodi Picoult

Page Poetry

My second Alphabet Challenge inspired “P” post today! Granted Page Poetry is going to pale in comparison to Poe Poetry. However, given that my last name begins with the letter “P” and I write poetry, I couldn’t let Poe have all of the fun. Here are 4 short, individual pieces of Page Prose & Poetry:

Tell me that it is not
a figment of my imagination,
that it is more
than a fantasy.
If you cannot,
don’t wake me.
I rather like this dream.

**********

I long to be real.
I ache to be seen.
I wish to be more
Than trapped in your dream.

**********

Flicker of candlelight
In lovers eyes,
Glow of moonlight
On midnight skies,
Echo of starlight
On a placid sea,
You are the light
That illuminates me.

**********

A flower blooms.
A child cries.
A life is born
As an old man dies.
Life’s not given,
It is a loan.
It’s time we use
But never own.

If you missed my first “P” post from today, I featured my favorite poet/writer, Edgar Allan Poe. Check it out!