From Tracie

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Waiting To Be Picked Up

The room is dark during the day. A small sliver of sunshine sneaking between the curtains is the only light we have. We whisper in the dark, sitting snugly next to each other.

Bits of stories.

Advice.

Information.

The sliver of sunlight has long faded when she comes in the room. We watch silently as she kicks off her flip flop, drops her clothes in a pile on the floor, and changes into an old t-shirt and pajama pants. She flops on the bed and looks around the room. Light from the lamp with the purple shade illuminates her face.

We always know what kind of day she had out in the world by what she does next:

On rough days, she heads to the shelves on the left, and reaches for something light and fluffy.

On good days, she walks across the room to the the shelves by the closet - usually pulling a journal and pen out of the cabinet on her way back to the bed.

On days she has been to class, she pulls out heavy tomes from shelves on the right, and scatters them across the bed. Notebook directly in front of her, she makes notes and highlights, occasionally reading something in a whisper we can barely hear.

On days when her head is pounding and she needs to escape from the pain (and the world around her), she angles the purple shade away from her face and reaches for a stack sitting on the desk beside the bed.

Cuddling under the covers, she reads until we see the sliver of light sneaking again between the curtains, and then falls into a deep sleep.

We keep watch over her room during the day, and keep her company late into the night. She loves us, and we love her. We know all her moods and secrets. We want nothing more than to be held gently as we share our stories and knowledge and advice. We are her books, and the best friends she has ever had.

The dictionary defines personification as “the attribution of a personal nature or human characteristics to something nonhuman, or the representation of an abstract quality in human form.”

Tell a piece of your story from the point of view of an object who bore witness.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Grandmother's Smoke Breaks

I found myself thinking about my grandmother tonight. When I was small, I called her grandmommy - grandmommy and granddaddy where my father's parents. But I clearly remember being ten years old, sitting in her backyard, and deciding that I would call her grandmother.

After my granddaddy died, his nephew came to visit. It was always an issue during his visits that he smoked. Not only would he go outside to smoke so as not to bother my grandparents, he would often go to the neighbor's house to smoke with her in her garage.

And we weren't supposed to mention the smoking. No talking about things like that in my family.

But on this visit - it seemed things had changed. Grandmother would go outside and sit with him on the bench when he smoked. She would declare with glee that she was going out for a smoke break. I believe there was even some giggling.

I thought about that tonight, and wanted to ask her questions. Things I did not ask when she was alive. Of course I wish I could ask the hard questions, but tonight I wasn't thinking down dark paths. I just wanted to know what it was they talked about on those smoke breaks. And why the sudden change in her attitude towards his habit.

This was my Sunday morning five minute stream of consciousness writing. I've dumped my brain, feel free to dump yours with Fadra.

Friday, January 20, 2012

I Am Early For Once

You know that line of people at the post office at 11:58 on April 15th each year? The people filling out the address of the IRS and affixing the stamp on their tax return? I have been in that line.

There was one year we finished our taxes on April 14th. That was the year Thomas did them. At our house, we refer to that as the year of...well, I refer to that as the year of....actually, I'm not going to tell you how I refer to that year. Just trust me that it is bad, and leave it at that.

Last year, on April 15th, we walked into Amscot and met Julio. Our new best friend. Our tax hero. It is possible he secretly laughed at our last-minute-ness, but I forgive him for that. Because he did our taxes, and it was surprisingly painless.

In December Thomas and I had a talk, and decided our goal was to take care of taxes early this year, before the end of January. So today we visited our tax guy, Julio (it makes me feel all old and grown up to say that I have a tax guy), and took care of business.

Julio even humored Thomas when he wanted to take a picture with him.
(Yes, not only am I a crazy picture taking person - like all of us bloggers - I am also married to a crazy picture taking person. My family's crazy picture taking knows no bounds.)

On the right you see Julio, the guy who does our taxes. On the left is Thomas, the guy who isn't allowed to touch our taxes - never at all, not one bit, until the very end when it is his turn to sign the paperwork.

That is the excitement in my house today. Taxes done. Box on my to-do list checked. Procrastination averted. All that is left is the celebration of my unusual earliness.....and since every good celebration includes cupcakes, I think I'll eat two. Or four. I'll definitely stop after five.

I finished my taxes early! What are you celebrating today?

Monday, January 16, 2012

Martin Luther King on Hope

As part of my focus on hope this year, I want to see what other people have said about it. Today, in the US, we celebrate the life and legacy of Martin Luther King Jr.

These are some of his words on hope:

"If you loose hope, somehow you loose the vitality that keeps moving, you loose that courage to be, that quality that helps you go in spite of it all. And so today I still have a dream."

"We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope."

"Everything that is done in the world is done by hope"