Lament the idol rider
Memories arise while one
Browses the aisles
A roadside gift shop
Search for the perfect
Piece of Identity
Dark hair
Dark eyes
Scent of sage and chocolate
Strong Arms
Wind blew in through
The Cracks
We looked upon
Rolling Hills
Jade Forests
Through grease-smeared glass
And Paradise resides
Beyond the Next
Blind Curve
Keep Scratching
Keep Detaching
You'll Strike A Nerve
Someday
Still raw from saying goodbye at the beginning of the month, but it's gotten a bit easier to breathe. Been receiving lovely messages from friends wanting us to know the many ways in which you helped them and provided countless good times that'll last as precious memories. I've been going through letters and photographs and that's been a good way to process all the jumbled emotions. Here are a few snapshots of the Summer of 2012 when you came to visit on your cross country drive to see Barb & Bernie. That was a solo trip you wanted to add to your list of I Did This! You did reach your destination and had a grand adventure with stories to share when the new school year started.
Speaking of road trips, I'm looking for the photos from our family vacations. I'm including this link because not only is it a beautiful story, but it's also about a place we visited to camp and fish. The Tuesday mentioned in the article made my breath catch in my throat.
I'll check in soon with more pictures and thoughts.
It's been two days since you left this place to start a new journey. Odd thing, time. It holds no meaning, serves no particular purpose Right Now since I'm bouncing all over the place with all sorts of Memories & Thoughts. I'll be sharing snippets and photos for a while until I can write a proper thing to describe who you were and what that means to me. I've reached out to the Indio & PacNW crews and those good folks have told me how much they love/admire/appreciate you. They've all relayed similar messages about how you helped them become better people, both for themselves and their loved ones. That's a pretty cool thing for your pals to feel and pass along.
I'll keep this ramble short, but wanted to share that the date you took off for greener fields adds up to be The Number Nine:
Nine is often associated with completion and fulfillment. It represents the end of a cycle, suggesting that something has reached its full potential or purpose.
And yes...I'm still playing guitar...
What comprises generational trauma?
- Alcoholism
- Death by Suicide
- Denial
- Depression
- Drug Addiction
- Lack of Education
- Misogyny
- Poverty
- Racism
- Rape
- Schizophrenia
- Silence
Make a list of self-sabotaging behaviors.
Procrastination. Analysis Paralysis. FoMO. Poor Time Management. O.K. With Being Not Okay. Stare / Compare / Go Nowhere. Cheerleader for Everyone But Me.
Imposter Syndrome. Don't Always Speak Up Because People Comment On My Vocabulary? Inaction-Due-To-Distraction. Not Always Up For New Experiences.
Squirrel!
Survival, trials, experience are shades across the spectrum that make you/me not understand me/you. Common ground shifts with each step.
The sentiment meant something in the moment
And the moment's gone
wedding bells sound the news your body's been found
scatter rice
throw the dice
vegas resounds with tourist traps and vice
while the tides rise along the left coast
fishing boats are lost at sea
now it's just you and me
to navigate this soundscape
without your discordant chords
Barbie, with her wicked business acumen, saw this seismic shift in the world of comms way before any in-the-trenches types were mysteriously summoned, in small batches, to a hard to find 4th floor conference room with nary an explanation as to why.
So the story goes...
A man dressed in black sat in front of a bank of windows typing on a silver laptop. He was accompanied by three women who also had their eyes focused on silver laptops. As citizens entered the room, any anticipation of bonuses being distributed because of A REALLY GOOD Q3 was DOA.
Released into the wild in two phases, there are those among us this holiday season who will take comfort in wassail and Gen Xmas carols.
The Glowing Rose is a tavern on the outskirts of town. Just past it, little over a mile, the road runs out. If a body were traveling through those heavily wooded parts, they’d see the border of another country soon enough. The old timers, though, have a hard time leaving their homes.
“I’ve spent all my life looking for paradise,” Mildred the barkeep told the out-of-towner. “Why the hell would I be interested in leaving my happy little watering hole for the unknown?” The out-of-towner shook her head, lips turned down in a frown and shoulders raised so they brushed against peacock feather earrings. She took a sip of her nearly empty glass of rosé.
“I’ve tried leaving home for years and always end up right back here.” She drained the last drops of her dry, sweet wine.
“Need another?” Mildred asked.
“Sure, why not? I’ve got a little time left to kill. May as well spend it tipsy and in your pleasant company.”
“Well, don’t get too noodly. We really don’t have a taxi service that comes all the way out here. Mildred took the out-of-towner’s glass as she made change for a departing customer.
“Oh, no. I didn’t drive here. I’m waiting for someone to pick me up.”
“Alright then, I’ll pour you another round of our local swill.”
“Wait, what? That rosé is made here? Not a syrah or grenache did I see on the ride up.” Mildred smiled as she leaned in close.
“You’re not the only one that keeps secrets, sweetie.” Allie Langley had no retort for Mildred Molina as a well-filled flute appeared on the bar before her.
The pain that has drained Vicki since she was a little girl is her mama's inability to see a situation from more than one (mama's own singularly unique!) viewpoint. In fact, just between us, Vicki's boarding a plane without her ever-present appendage and will be touching down among swaying palms in time for pupus.
I went there and back without you. This postcard is a memento of the expanse we can't seem to cross.
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