A little magic everywhere...

It's a typical mom reaction.

What you see: the dust, clutter, laundry, unwashed dishes, shoes on the floor

What you think: "oh man, I really gotta finish cleaning that, pick this up, go do that"

But as I sat enjoying a few minutes of actual reading (yes, a big-girl book, all mine!) on a self-declared lazy Sunday morning, my son taught me another valuable lesson.

With the morning sunlight streaming in through the window, he sat on the couch and leaned over, hit the middle cushion with his hands. As I looked up I witnessed the long awaited release of 1,000,000 pieces of dust flying up from the couch and of course, having those lovely rays of sunshine coming in through the curtains, each and every particle was gloriously showcased in their mad dash for freedom....(sigh)

But of course, this is my home, my children. Normalcy is a far-away land of imagination and never quite the case.

As I opened my mouth to say something "Please don't do that" (so I can pretend I won't be motivated to get up immediately and vacuum the cushions) I'm simultaneously thinking "Darn it, now I gotta get up and vacuum the cushions" my son, in his infinite wisdom declared, "Pixie Dust! I can fly!!"

And after a momentary pause, while I processed what he had actually said...(keep in mind, he's 12) all I could do was laugh. It makes you realize, a split second like that, how precious and short the good times can be. The never-ending mediocrity of day to day life fades away and the all consuming rush to get things done can always, briefly, be put aside.

Of course, I went ahead and said (with a smile and little giggle now) "Please don't do that again" while thinking..."I can vacuum tomorrow."

A little bit of pixie dust never hurt anybody....who knows, maybe tomorrow I can fly!

Sorrows of September

9 years....that's how long it's been since you breathed your last breath

It seems like such a long time to go without someone, but in my heart, my mind, especially in my soul it still feels like yesterday.

I can still smell you on the shirt you left behind..through all the times I've washed it and worn it, your scent still lies deep within the cloth...that shirt has dried thousands of tears, cradled the heartbeats of hundreds of sleepless nights, it's the last tangible link I have to you and yet, there you still remain.

So much has happened since you were taken away from us all; graduations, deaths, celebrations and sorrows, marriages, birthdays and family...you have so many nieces and nephews, babies who have now grown into teenagers, little girls you left behind have become beautiful young women seemingly overnight as time marches on...I've watched our mother break and fall, then slowly rise to face tomorrow once more, your sisters, brothers, we all struggled to keep our heads above the water, when all we really wanted to do is let go and drown in the sufferings of our hearts...we're still treading the deep ocean of loss, maybe some day we will reach the shore. I watched my 27th birthday approach, with fear and trepidation. Knowing it would arrive...saw Mom worry, fret and wonder, would she lose another child at the same age...and felt guilt on my 28th as I passed the milestone of your years, now older than you were ever allowed to grow. Through the loss and rebuilding of our lives, new relationships were formed, among the sisters you used to tease and the brothers you got in trouble with...what was once two families separated through divorce, is now a conglomeration of friends and love. We got together last month with our multitude of kids...and when the little ones asked "how are we related to them", we just smiled and laughed, the only explanation is love. The love we shared for you became a common ground and a family bond.

It is so hard to convey to the children the light you shone into all of our lives. We flip through countless pictures and tell thousands of stories recounting Uncle Garry's escapades and laugh so hard tears roll down our faces, but I can see the emptiness in their perceptions of you, because to them, you're merely a figment of our collective memories, but more, oh my brother, so much more you are to me, to all of us who still remain

Most days I wake up and the hurt has eased a bit, it never goes away, I hope it never does. I no longer double over in physical pain when I hear your name. I can look at your pictures without dissolving into wracking sobs. I can laugh at myself, as I imagine your voice, teasing as always when I do something dumb. The anger and rage are still inside, I remember watching the man who took your life into his own hands and destroyed it, sitting at the table in the courtroom, looking so pitiful and regretful. I still cannot find it in my heart to forgive him, but the murderous rage and burning desire for revenge has finally subsided into a dull ache, blistered and calloused over deep inside, where I keep it in check. I no longer let it consume me.

Garry, you're my big brother, my friend my hero and more. You taught me so much in the short life you lived. I only have to look for you in the grin of our little brother Brian, I watch for you in the way my son walks and I can see the sparkle of your eyes from my youngest daughter, one of the many you never knew. The world mourns the many losses of September 11th during this month, but for your family and friends, our burden is almost too much to carry remembering your death and the acknowledgment of your birthday.....wake me up when September ends...

Garry Wayne Brooks, Jr.
Given to us September 21, 1973
Taken away September 14, 2001

not a single moment of your life was in vain, through it all you were loved with every ounce of my being

Food for thought..

How eager we are, as human beings, to accept and embrace half-truths and assumptions. Rather than hope and believe in loyalty, honesty & trust, we swallow whole heartedly the misconceptions carelessy spilled out of the lips of others. Gleefully like children, we move through life, discarding friendships, relationships and family ties with the same disregard we give to an old pair of shoes. Like material goods, we assume people are disposable and easily replaced.

But who is to blame for the careless cast-off lifestyle? The ones who spill the untruths and deception, or rather, the one who laps it up like sweet ambrosia, willingly bending his heart and mind to adjust the whimsy, human nature to that of one being led blindly by the nose?

Be careful on that which you build your life. Like a house built upon the sand, if you base your decisions on assumptions alone, the foundation beneath will slowly fade away, leaving you with nothing more than a clenched fist. In holding onto your perceptions, you refuse to open your heart and self to possibilities.   

inside out

like a flower trembling
waiting on the verge of bloom
I sit here watching your eyes
as they seek, find and accept
the incompleteness of my soul

the flawed and shadowed wants
yearnings and desires
waiting to be unleashed
opening, unfolding
basking in the dawn
of a new self awareness

the whispers remain
deep inside
scared, shreds of doubt

slowly with an artists touch
you erase the very last traces of fear
and instead replace them
with empowering confidence
in the beauty you've seen

revealed through the lens
as you capture me

vulnerable, safe

********************************

inside the wounds
are fresh as the day they were created
lying in wait
hidden from plain sight...

acceptance is rare and hard to find
out of need for survival
the mask was slowly built
layer by layer
until the outside turned itself
shiny and new
fresh, beauty...

but under it all
hideous and bruised
the remnants of what was left behind
forgotten, cast aside
like a broken doll
unloved, unwanted
crying for deliverance
into the arms of uplifting adoration
desire, want...

lonely and weak
tired of fighting
close up the scars once more
hide in the darkest corners
to wait out another
long, cold night...