Run On's

There's something to be said for reflection. It has only been five years since I graduated from high school, yet it seems as if the entire world has changed completely. People with children, married, in another country, teaching, modeling, passed away. It's intensely wonderful to watch this journey. Even people in college, their lives have changed dramatically in the last few years. Why should I be surprised though, when my own life has taken as many turns as it has? Looking back, even if it's only to yesterday, keeps me up on perspective. Gives me a reason to appreciate wherever it is that I am.

*The safety of Ray and his friends after Hurricane Ike.
*My poetry class, in which I am learning that I am not alone in this struggle for better understanding.
*The patience of people who are willing to work with me as I struggle to 'survive' my bills.
* The way the last few days have felt against my skin, cool calm and romantic.
* Finally connecting on another level with him.
*The opportunity to make money doing something on my bucket list- work at a haunted house!
*Encouraging words and advice from my professor concerning my poetry and Grad school.
*Seeing my younger sister make mistakes and learn from them.
*The freedom and time to write this.



Family Is

Polaroids, crusted along the plastic edges.
Hues hinted at and fading into the broken lines of each other.
Voices whispering across the creased smiles of mother and children.
Hearing the last time we ate a dinner as a family, and laughed,
Whole.

Daddy at the head of the table, mommy at the tail, and children all in a row.
The last time we all sat at a table, I think.
I don't remember it.
I must've been very young.

Remember the last time we shared jokes or the last time we made fun of horror flicks or the last time we went on a field trip to the store for ice cream.
I don't remember it. The pictures say 1987, and 1994, and October 30, 1997.
It's some time after that now.

My mom likes to pretend we still should get together and have dinner around the table.
Her stand in is much better than the original, she promises.
"Call him papa!"
I call him Daniel.

Daddy sits us at the table and takes his plate to the counter. "Don't ruin the glass, use a place mat. You can't sit on the couch like that, it's leather. Don't pet the puppies, they bite."

He thinks he's real chill. "Real laid back", when honestly, he's just as guarded as a stranger with no idea how to play with kids. His treasures, cleaned daily, set perfectly in order, are never to be touched. His house, a museum of what might of been if hadn't been for my bitch of a mother.

My bitch of a mother, hates that sinner of a father. No good cow he is. And we'll end up just like him if we don't watch out.

Home for the holidays. Which way is that?


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

Two years ago, I made up my mind to make a home. Called to me my sisters from their various corners of Texas and had a 3 foot tree with dollar store presents and chocolate and stockings. Rented movies and handed over the remote. It snowed slightly that time... I remember it was cold. And one sister isn't allowed back in my home ever again. And Christmas is a burden now I'd rather not have honestly. I never have enough cash, never have a home to visit, and always spend the New Years evening wishing I hadn't tried to go out, but just sat at the house, in front of the tv, alone.

One day, I want to be Big Mama, and I want people to come to me for the Holidays.