Category Archives: Writing

How Short Life Is

Posted on by under Writing

How short life is.jpg

It’s been awhile since I have been able to write. My worst fear was realized the night I wound up in the E.R. in excruciating pain, in a MRI scanner.

My skin felt as if it was on fire, I was having shortness of breath, and my body was swollen so much I was having trouble walking and moving. The MRI as it warmed up got hotter making my pain and skin so bad, that it looked like a sunburn. As I lay there just trying to get through it my first thoughts were about my family, trying to get through this and get better so I can be there for my family. The last place I wanted to be was in a hospital. I have spent enough time in the hospital over the years. First they thought this was neurological issue, then vestibular disorder, then finally I found out it was Rheumatoid Arthritis.

The pain was so bad I have not been able to write, type, play my violin, or guitar. My fingers have been still hurting, but I am hopeful now that I have started treatment. I am pushing through the pain to do what I love to keep my mind off of things. I have started to write once again and play violin, and guitar.

I don’t know why this happened, no one in my family has a history of this. My other thought when I was in that MRI was, I have so many more stories to tell, so many more memories to make with my loved ones. It was just a reminder to me of how short life is-  It is important do what we love, and spent time with the people we love. One day our hands won’t work. One day our lips won’t move. One day we will be still, and there will be silence where there was once hope.

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Heartache

Posted on by under 2018, Poetry, Writing

Who knows heartache better than a Mother, as she sends you off to school. She knows its the beginning of you leaving her, trying to find your way into the world on your own.

Who knows heartache better than a Mother, as she holds her sick child. As her child cries tears, she kisses away their fears.

Who knows heartache better than a Mother, as she watches you lose someone you love. Pulling you close in an embrace, there need not be any words -you both cry together.

Oh this wise woman, knows the meaning of heartache, what it means to lose, but oh- what it means to love. Her heart ached many nights, for you.

Who knows heartache better than a Mother. She still waits up for you, worrying about you, even though you are grown and have children of your own now.

Who knows heartache better than a Mother, and who knows her love better than another. For it is her daughter, that always has a friend in her Mother. She now knows the same heartache, as her heart breaks for her own child- her only Son.

Impossible Child

Posted on by under 2018, Childhood, Life, Writing

My Son has been my greatest teacher. From the first flutters I felt, as he moved and then kicks -as he grew larger- kicking the my ribs. My Son, has taught me what it means to truly live.

These days, I am short on sleep. But those sleepless nights are well spent. I spend them with my son.

He was an Impossible child from the beginning. It was nothing short a miracle that he was born. Having PCOS, I would have some difficulty getting pregnant. My Husband and I got lucky with our Son.

I had a special connection with him from the beginning, I was 100 percent certain that I was going to have a boy. I had dreams about him before he was born. I was actually so certain, my Husband and I didn’t even pick out a girls name. We bought boys clothes and a teddy bear for him. The ultrasound confirmed my belief.

He was two weeks late, and I had to be induced. Yes, my Impossible Child.

When he was born, the umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck and he was blue, and when the nurses recesutated him, that cry was the most beautiful cry I had ever heard. Yes I was proud to call him my child.

I had no idea, that I was about to embark on the most wonderful adventure, becoming a Mother. I also didn’t know, that such a little person could be so smart, and know so many things about life.

To see the world through the eyes of a child. That has been the most wonderful thing my Son has taught me.

You see, children live in the moment. Day to Day. They have no fear. This works to their advantage. They explore create, and are exactly who they are meant to be. They live for, and in the moment. This is life’s greatest gift.

Noah has always loved Music and Dance and Art. He reminds me so much of myself its like looking into a mirror. Except life happened, and I forgot who I was. Through him I see the way I used to see the world. Through the eyes of a child.

Bright, vibrant, ready to be explored. Everything is beautiful. Everything is new and it is an experience.

So happy 5th birthday, my impossible child. Keep dancing like no ones watching, keep dreaming, keep on living. You are smart beyond your years. You of all people know that tomorrow is not promised to any of us. You remind me what it is to live, to be courageous and live in the moment without fear. Impossible child, life’s greatest teacher.

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The Paradigm of the Typewriter

Posted on by under 2018, Non-fiction, Short Story, Writing

The typewriter on the shelf was a closeout deal. The office supply store was getting rid of old stock –and this old behemoth, no one wanted. It called out to the middle-aged, women. Choices must be made. An typewriter for 99 dollars and some change, (ink ribbons included) or that brand new laser jet ink package for a whopping 209 dollars –plus tax –something, a working mother and struggling writer, could little afford.

She was reminded where her love of writing began. When she was no more that five years of age, she began writing her stories. Her first written books were about the Valley River people. People that came from all walks of life. One woman that came from Japan and wore beautiful Kimonos, so everyone thought that she was a princess from a far off land. They couldn’t be more wrong.

Then there was a man, that lived in a nursing home because he had Parkinson’s disease. He had a wheelchair that allowed him more mobility because he was unable to walk steadily.

Of course there was the Valley River girl, from a far off land that wrote stories, had big dreams, and loved to illustrate all the books she wrote. That girl was me.

She held on, to all her notebooks and the first play she ever wrote. It was about a girl that would rather write than do her chores. She got mad and left home because she didn’t have enough time (or paper to write.)

She looked back at the old typewriter next to her desk and woke up in her bedroom, knowing that the typewriter that had been a closeout deal at the store was really all a dream.

Next to her desk, sat the typewriter she wrote all her first stories on. This was her Grandmother’s typewriter. The one that inspired, on which she cried over, because a lost dream had been realized each morning she woke up and saw it sitting next to her desk.

All that time she knew who she was. She had always been a writer.

‘Thirty years of age– that’s not a bad place to start,’ she thought.

–And so she promised herself after many failures, this year she would try and would succeed. That dream and her family –the sense of the community that the Valley River people had– was perhaps the only thing that truly mattered to her now, as much as it had when she was a little girl.

The paradigm of the typewriter had finally been realized.

On Marriage- From a Child’s Perspective…

Posted on by under Children, Family, God, Marriage, Mothers Day, Writing

 

Me and Noah Carosel

Richland Carousel – Mother and Son

Yesterday my Husband and I celebrated our fifth year wedding Anniversary. Our Marriage has been far from easy, and I think we have had every stressor a couple can have. A chronically ill child, myself being ill as well as my husband. Then we had the financial burden that comes along with all this illness. (And is still a burden we are still facing)

This year has been the hardest, but it has also been the greatest because we have each other. I’m so thankful for my family and for my Son, and for the grace God gives us to get through each day, one step at a time.

This Anniversary we Celebrated together as a family. It’s a miracle that we are all still breathing in this air on God’s green earth. What a gift it is to be alive!

We went to the Mansfield Penitentiary, and then the Richland Carousel. Noah was so excited to celebrate our Anniversary with us, and reminded me about something important. The celebration of an Anniversary, is not just about the celebration of a couple, but the celebration of a family.

Noah and Mike

Mansfield Penitentiary – Father and Son

I was six months pregnant with him when we were married. We all came into this marriage as a family. We were all brought together because of this special little guy. As such, our marriage should be celebrated together, and it hardly seems right that we should leave Noah out of it, since he was with us on our special day. Wise beyond his years, and my greatest teacher, Noah always has something to say…

“Mommy I was in your belly, when you, Daddy, and Me, got married to each-other.”

….Yes Noah. That is what marriage is all about. The blending of two families, and the creation of another soul born into this world to bring people together. Family, that is what a marriage is all about when you really think about it.

My Wedding

August 29, 2013 – Our Wedding

I couldn’t think of a more perfect weekend to have a wedding. Every Anniversary I get to celebrate Mother’s Day too, and the greatest gift God has blessed me with- my family.

Noah's Birthday

My Husband – Welcoming Noah into this world

Finding Your Voice

Posted on by under 2018, Dreams, Writing

Finding your voice as a writer is not an easy task. It is something I have been trying to do for the last couple of years. If there is anything that my failed attempt at self-publishing helped me to accomplish, it was that it helped me find and develop my voice as an writer.

Over the last two years, I have completed every single goal I have set for myself…

  1. Self-Publishing a book.
  2. Writing a series of books.
  3. Finding my voice.

The important thing is that I failed. I am thankful that my self-published book failed, because I found my voice. I also found something that I am excited and very passionate about to be writing. That is not to say that I was not passionate about the Candlewick Falls series. I just didn’t feel that it was my best work, and that is why I pulled it off of Amazon. That is not to say that I won’t revisit the series later.

I look at every failure as a success. One step closer to achieving my goal. That goal is to be a traditionally published Author.

The Process of Creation…

Posted on by under 2018, Creativity, Writing

It is a funny thing how the creative mind works. I’m sure any number of you can attest to this.

It is 1 a.m. in the morning, your mind is swimming with ideas. So what is a person to do with all these ideas? There are several solutions to this problem and they are as follows…

  1. Lie awake in bed and let stare at the ceiling, thinking of all those ideas.
  2. Visualize those ideas.
  3. If your significant other is still up, tell them of all your ideas and future plans.
  4. Write them down.

Lying there and thinking up ideas is important, but to think up those ideas you must visualize. Sharing with others is an part of the creative process too. If you see that they become just as excited as you are about your idea, you know you are on the right track.

My rule of thumb for writing down an idea is this…

…it has to be good enough, that it sticks with you for at least a week or longer. If you forget about it well, it wasn’t very good to begin with.

 

I felt like I was dying…

Posted on by under 2018, Writing

A little over a month ago, I felt like I was dying. I had been in and out of the E.R. three times, with what doctors kept saying was a GI virus. A GI virus that lasted more than two weeks. I had upper right quadrant pain that radiated into my back. My liver enzymes were elevated and so was my glucose, even though I had nothing to eat. I looked like I was pregnant, I had swelling all over my body. I hadn’t eaten in nearly two weeks. My body was at the point of exhaustion. Two days before I wound up in it the hospital, I had stopped drinking any fluid. I was so sick, with pain and nausea. The worst pain I have ever experienced in my life. Worse than labor pains, and I had a difficult labor.

By the time they admitted me for surgery, I was dehydrated for the fourth time in two week, my blood pressure was elevated and so was my heart rate. My color was not good. I looked like a corpse. Almost four weeks later after an ultrasound that showed biliary sludge, and a HIDA scan that indicated my gallbladder was not functioning, it was finally removed. Still before they admitted me they had the nerve to ask if I could wait for another two weeks. I could hardly walk, I had to be wheeled in in a wheelchair. What really makes them think I could wait another two weeks?

Hurry up and die. That is the way the health care system is in this United States. Billing departments, and insurance companies are fighting amongst themselves, while doctors are trying to get the necessary treatments that their patients need approved. Financial departments are making sure they bill you for the maxim amount of money, squeezing insurance companies and patients for as much as they can.

There is no such thing as affordable health-care, as long as these corporations and insurance companies, run the show.

Hurry up and die while you wait for treatment. Its not about the quality of care or service to the patient, but all about profits.

Unconditional

Posted on by under Grandparents, Poetry, Writing

Cradled in my Mother’s arms,

my little fingers reaching out for Papa’s.

Daddy’s scratchy beard,

tickles my soft newborn skin,

as he leans in to kiss me.

Mama’s Daughter,

Daddy’s little girl.

No matter what age I am still.

The light is passed on-

trying to care for my Son,

Like my Parents still continue

to care for us.

The most loving Grandparents

anyone could have,

still the best Mom and Dad.

Beautiful Chaos

Posted on by under Children, God, Life, Motherhood, Parenting, Writing
Chaos

My Son and I

Amongst all the mess, the toys strewn across the floor, screeching children running around my house -after the week we had been through as a family- I welcomed it.

I was simply happy that my Son was able to play with his friends, and squeal with delight and joy -that the previous week- he had been unable to do.

Sometimes we just have to take a step back and realize, that when it comes to life, not much is in our control.

Sometimes born out of this chaos of life, we find things we never expected. A friend to laugh and cry with. Unconditional love and advice from our parents… Pure joy, and realization that life is so darn precious. We find gratitude, and are sometimes humbled by our experiences. If we listen close enough, dare I say we may even find the voice of God?

Children, we are all children of God. Maybe if we saw the world through the eyes of a child, it wouldn’t be so bad. Chaotic and Beautiful, something that we did not plan.