For the woman behind me.

Today is my wife's birthday - as gift for me on her special day, she called me from PH and she and James put me on speaker phone and they sang/played honeyhoney's Don't know how. I sang along even though there was a slight delay - it made me smile from ear to ear, my heart was all a glow, shining hard and bright in my cheat. I love that kind of smile, the light literally radiates from my eyes - I know they are burning,glowing, even without looking. I then decided, I would take my son up on a drink, he had texted me earlier today - come meet me tonight for a drink, it's on me. I hesitated, as I was submerged in things at the house - but I decided to go, go toast my wife on her birthday all these many miles away. I don't EVER go to bars - I remembered why, almost immediately. Sitting next to this awesome 24 year old kid named Salvo - I said "wow dude, this is a dark place" He laughed knowing exactly what I meant, we went shoulder to shoulder, bumping each other in an 'I know right?' We watched together like students, studying the people gathered at the watering hole - it was pathetic, all the misery and desperation. I got a real rise as I recognized that look. That look had become very familiar to me as of late, the slow moving head, the far away eyes, the slur, the failure and the regret. Man do I know that look. As we studied longer, moving from man to man - we noted that they were all watching me as though they shouldn't be, making eye contact briefly and then looking away quickly as though they had been caught doing something bad - they looked away with shame for having been found out. I laughed aloud as I realized that it was every man - even the one with women by their sides. It was what I was talking about in my last blog - I am something special, making friends, making people laugh, engaging in conversation for real - none of it because I am trying to make myself feel better about how miserable I am - it's the Deb glow - it's what I do everywhere - no alcohol or desperation required. I sipped my one Jameson on the rocks, and felt more of the darkness lifting off of me - I misbehaved and sent a text I shouldn't have, but it was all in fun, no sadness attached to it - I know who I am. That is the difference between me and the recipient - who I am is cream of the crop. I am inside and out, the best it gets and I can look at my reflection every morning and not feel ashamed. The black is steady lifting and it feels so gooooood. I then thought about what it means to go woman to woman - man to man - it's straight up desperate. I need no one but me and my kids to be okay. A man that is researching female prospects before another is out the bed is just the lowest of low life form - a man who cannot stand alone - in my book, that is the definition of coward. When I put things into perspective about my situation of late - I am relieved to discover that I did not lose love or a best friend. I loved, I did everything genuine and to the best of my ability (which is straight up badass.) Someone who has "profiles" that are fabrications, and 'in' box friends of every flavor aren't men - they are lonely losers who need attention to feed the beast of their vacant egos. I think it's so pathetic, it's actually laughable, I am really laughing. Took me a hot minute to get there, but damn hasn't the haze of misery really drifted down South and left me North of that stench. I am feeling so so much better. Earlier in the day - I talked with my boss about being held accountable for doing the very best that I am capable of - not taking half my effort even though the pay off is quite big with that - make me step up top the plate, ALWAYS in the zone, tell me less than my best is unacceptable. I am preparing to do the same with my education, I am going to gobble those degrees up and keep earning summa cum laude distinction while I do it, because I am brilliant - talented. Nothing less than my best in school - EVER again, the last semester was like a slow agonizing death of my potential. My energy misdirected on the crazy trains descent to hell. I am going to swear off any one other than my kids and my friends - I have no time to waste on anyone other than them, especially the brats. I need to find my healthy Mother again, the one who doesn't smoke, doesn't use her cell phone unless it is to make a call and really I don't need to call anyone cause Emma and I have books to write and party dresses to sketch. I have nothing for noone but them. I learned from this experience to never waste my light on dark - to instead reserve the gift for those who already possess it and just need mentoring. My kids have the light and they need mine to shine the brightest to show them how it's done. Can't be her if I am worrying about unworthy men and their two enablers, talking incessantly about a light they do not see. There is no amazing grace "I was blind but now I see" going on here - don't waste my time on people who don't know what the fuck that means. I am waging a war on myself, this bullshit has got to stop - it is time for me to attack my potential, and then guard the results for the elite of spirit. Sorry, but most people make me sick - there is a small few that rise to the occasion - do for others - care for others - fight the good fight - I am connected with that percentage and as far as I am concerned, everyone else can go to hell. Now, in addition to not giving a rats ass what anyone thinks about my truth - I am going to start yelling my truth at the top of my lungs and not give a shit about the noise ordinance either. They way I intend to do that is to take my life by it's balls and be happy. When I succeed, my power will be unstoppable. Assholes and bar fly's best get the hell out my path. I keep thinking of the saying "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned" - but in this case... I scorned myself and that is bringing a wrath to the surface that is unparalleled. It is one thing to be pissed off at other peoples failures, it is something all together different to have been your own worst enemy, taking your own self out. I am profoundly disappointed that I did not expect more from myself knowing full well it is what I deserve, what my kids deserve....I am fixing me with a fury. A lot of people are intimidated by my raw honesty - I cannot help it, it's what God made me, I won't apologize for being about REAL. I am proud of who I am and I am ready to let that show. SIGH, it feels so good to have a plan because when I have a strategy, I always arrive. It's just what I do. So tonight on my wife's birthday I think this here blog is the best present I could give her. A little reality laced with shit talk - her favorite. Happy Birthday my Love - the woman behind the woman. And what a beautiful mess this is....

I have been lost.

So real quick, I just wanted to say to those of you who watched me fall apart recently, I finally see things the way you do - I have been looking at this entire situation ALL Freaking WRONG. Thank you to those of you who surely want to beat their heads off the wall after watching me act like such a complete ASS backwards HOLE. Oh my God to my friends....YOU ARE THE MOST PATIENT GROUP OF PEOPLE ON THE PLANET. Especially my Mary, good lord. I actually had the epiphany just now while on the phone with her - she is in Prospect Harbor down by the wedding alter on the shore. Chris Ross a brilliant musician from Maine (a Ray Lamontagne type) is playing in concert at her house and I am on speaker phone - his first live telecast state to state show...Who the hell has a magical place like PH in their life, a house full of the coolest ass people you will ever meet - EVER - Kids and tradition, a field of dreams - who has that and knows that every bit of it loves them and that even when they are 600 miles away - they are there in the heart of every person, every breeze that lifts off the shore, every smile of every face??? I do. I have that. Not only do I have that, but I have the coolest co-workers/family/sister/friends - My day at work was like crawling in to the womb of every single woman. Each one of them would take care of me like a helpless child if I needed them to - and I have. They will make me laugh, make me cry, hold me, lay on the wood floor behind the counter with me, feed me, cover for me, encourage me, rail me, support me, drink wine at work with me, conspire with me, lecture me, tell me how it is with me, tell me I am beautiful, tell me I am rare, love me. Today Jo, who is like my older sister, told me that I have no choice but to listen to her from this point forward. I clearly don't get how special I am and so now, not allowed to date until she and my boss approve - There will be an army of women standing between me and any unworthy man from this moment on. I love it. I am loved that much. And these women, my friends, they are the most unique, intelligent, beautiful badass women you will ever meet. And they all think that I am unique.... Not only do I have that, but I have a family that despite it's teenage dysfunction, is a place of great humor, camaraderie, care and love. My kids make me smile, our hilarity is my favorite part of us - our music - our color - our conversations - our connectivity. It is really quite something and everyone of them would reattach the cord and keep it connected to me for all of time if they could. My kids suck me dry, because they can't get enough of me. And that leads me to me......HAHAHAHAHAHA that leads me to my own account of what I myself have to lean on in me. Well....I am Deb and there is no one else in the world quite like me. I have a way - a way that penetrates deep in every person that I come in contact with - if you get a little Deb I leave a lasting impression that will never be compared to again - you will hang on every word I say and remember them. If you get a lot of Deb, well than you're sunk, fucked, blessed. Unless you have to live without me, than you're just sunk and fucked. If there is music playing, I become it - the words become my voice, my spin on them, my facial expressions, the twinkle in my eye - hands up in the air dancing, hips swinging - the smell from the kitchen, the temperature on the breeze, the ceiling fan that whirs over head, my perfume. If there is conversation, it's just the best you ever had. If there is laughter you will think there is nothing quite as fantastic as watching me lose my shit, taking the scenario sicker and sicker as I laugh harder and harder and beg for it to stop - enough - hysterical laughter, the light in my smiling, crying from laughing too hard eyes. Whatever it is in the scenery, it becomes a part of me rather than me a part of it. If I love you - well than you will never know a tenderness, an honesty, a freedom like mine. I know this because every person, every man I have ever loved is still in my life - from 25, 30 years ago - and every single one of them would do ANYTHING for me. I have all that. I have been seeing this entire mess as a mess that leaves me in a heap, How completely, totally, thoroughly wrong I have been. I am irreplaceable. I am a beautiful that is unparalleled. I am a unique that the word unique can't even begin begin to convey....Years ago I didn't know this - I battled it while everyone around me went "geez Deb come the fuck on, really?" I was damaged by a lot of people in my life who were unworthy and pointed the finger in my chest - I forgot for a long time who I was. I have almost 13,000 hits on my blog - people read me religiously - I am adored by my professors - my fellow students, kids and adults alike. Damn. Great kids, amazing friends, a perfect smile..... what the fuck? I just forgot - I have been seeing this all wrong. Today - not for one moment did I feel anything less than special, until I thought about this mess. Not once, did I get hung up on, not once was there bullshit, not once was I faced with a moral dilemma that left me feeling dirty. I have lost nothing, I have been lost - and really...I was the one to say "I can't do this." I was not the one who ran and hid behind the safety of a cycle, a new distraction. I returned from the shit storm to Prospect Harbor via speaker phone, to my dear friends, my cool ass kids, my second home at the shop, ALL my blessings which have ALWAYS been there because I am that amazing. I have lost nothing, I have been lost....It may not smart just yet, but it will. And when it does, I will be kicking ass and taking names as usual, bathed in love I have never lost - I don't lose love - I only give it and take it away when unworthiness deems it's time. And with that Chris is playing Jack and Jill, I gotta whoop, snap my fingers and dance. Later.

Let there be light.

There have been two times in my life where a divine intervention has occurred. Once when I was pregnant with Matthew and the girl in the wheel chair defined my mission for me - the weight lifted off and I received my answer. The second was in a dream several years ago where I argued with an Angel who reminded me very much of an aura of a Greek God - not man, not solid, a silvery transparent being that asked me - "what do you really believe?" There were no pretty wings on this one, he was quite imposing and frightened me - he was trying to take a little blond haired boy out of the chariot where we sat. I argued with him "No" - this makes no sense to me - why a child has to die - this cannot be the proper order of things - I so profoundly disagree with childhood death. The angel explained to me that there is a tedious balance and who am I to question God's divine plan - reminds me of the book of Job a little. At any rate - I challenged the angel in my dream "Not on my watch you won't take him" which ended before I knew if I had succeeded in sparing the little boy - the boy was no one that I recognized, not my child, not a child I knew. I woke from the dream drenched in sweat and shaking - called my Nana to talk with her about it as I was truly shaken and she claimed to have a direct line to God and so who better to go to for some comfort or perspective - I was upset most of all that the Angel had told me I was not in fact dreaming - I was conversing with God himself through him - that this was the way it went and didn't I already know all this, hadn't I prayed to God to heal Matthew's brain and what the heck was I so confused, distraught about - didn't I believe when I hit my knees in the hospital chapel that there was someone really listening??? Who was I asking to heal my baby if not God??? I was profoundly disturbed by this dream and struggled to find my answers which came to me several months later as a chubby little blond toddler waded in the water before me at the lake, unattended and unwatched by his parent. In short, he waddled on at the shore line, getting a little deeper and a little further away that I was comfortable with, as I sat nursing Emma in my beach chair - head over my shoulder searching for a Mom I could not find anywhere on the beach. The little boy went under and almost drowned. I struggled to find him in the water, the horizon line and angle made it nearly impossible to find where he had disappeared to, when I got to him he was laying, eyes open, looking lifeless and still from the bottom. Not on my watch I had told the angel. Not on my watch - not the little blond boy. I called Mary after I returned home that day and recounted what had happened how nauseous I was, how horrified, how traumatized Matthew and his friend Maggie had been. No correlation made at that moment to the dream months and months previous. Mary called me later that night "Um, not on my watch, not the little blond boy???" There is a God - this I know for sure. I took a religions of the world class my fourth semester in college - it expanded my knowledge of religions, we went clear back to the first one in Africa, the aboriginals, worked our way through time, spanning the globe. God is a concept that varies so much, so many religions, concepts, practices make sense to me, that to nail down one idea of God is something I am just not capable of. I was raised an Irish Catholic, it was serious business in my home. I will tell you that in a Northern cathedral - like at home in Boston, I feel the closest to God - other than in my own head - but I believe that is more the tradition of it than anything else. For me God is a higher power - God is an opposing force to evil - God is the voice in my head we call a conscience. There is no better place to find "GOD" than within your own self (in my opinion). For the longest time now - I have felt the opposing works of good and evil at war. They have always been at war - they will always be - however, in recent years the demise of values has increased, increased so much, that most days I look around me and feel literally frightened by what I see - I feel humanity is being swallowed up by everything that is not important, Human beings have lost their way, internal moral compasses are desperately off kilter and the human race is folding in on itself. There is a division occurring between the light and the dark - gray area is disappearing, the time has come for humans to pick a side. With all this talk of the end of the world, I have prayed on whether or not that is what I feel happening - is that what all the excessiveness is about, all the hatred, all the pornography, all the child rape, all the sexism, all the child neglect, all the technology that keeps us from humanness , all the materialism, all the disrespect, all the disregard for our planet, all the addictions, all the war, all the everything....Not much is going right. Is this the beginning of the end? I have no answer for that still - What I have found is a firm belief that a shift is occurring, without a doubt, the division between good and evil is filtering. I have always known that I am good - the ugliness in the world has always hurt me more than most people I know - since I was a little girl, I have felt sensitive to the pain of humanness. Because I am this way, I have lived my life as graciously as I possibly can. I am polite, I am respectful, I am generous, I am kind, I am giving, I am well mannered, I am fair, I am balanced on concepts of equality - I am willing, I am accessible, I am love. If you know me, you know that I give off a strong light, a light that is rare, a light that is bold, a light that makes everything in it's path appear more beautiful. Having this light and also being gracious has been both a blessing and a curse for me my entire lifetime. The light attracts good, but also attracts evil. I am never quite sure if the evil wants to better itself in my glow or if it wants to extinguish it, either way it is challenging to be me, extremely risky. I have always felt that my light is threatened and that forces who are threatened by it - want to snuff me out, silence me, steal my smile, my laughter, my spirit. Every day on this earth, I have been battling to keep my flame lit. Today in the midst of a nervous breakdown of sorts, my friend Rachel who is one of my spiritual sisters - she passed a knowing energy to me through a hug. I cried and cried, explained that the last few weeks, few days, I feel as though my very spirit is being threatened - an evil so strong, so seducing, so powerful and manipulative, had turned me inside out leaving me more vulnerable than ever to being destroyed, that I myself could not feel my glow - was not sure who I had become - couldn't find my own voice, the voice of God. I said to someone recently or maybe even here in a blog, the events of late had me feeling as though every pain, every hurt, every heartache that came prior to now, was me working my muscles for this very moment in time - all the pain was in preparation for the real fight for survival of my enduring spirit and soul - which today, I was in hysterical fear I had lost. Compulsion had hold of me, my eyes no longer saw truth, my mind was flooded in moral compromises, I could no longer see true beauty, I was fooled by denial, had given myself up without a fight to everything that I knew was wrong, I had willingly deluded myself, wanted to turn darkness to light at the risk of losing myself in the process. I said "I feel like I am walking the thinnest of lines between good and evil, a high wire that is frayed and compromised, the fibers snapping, I am dizzy and afraid" Casey and Rachel reached for me, held me in their words and their arms, held me in their energy and I heard the voice of god speak to me loud and clear - it was my voice - it grew louder as the love of my friends encircled me and pulled me off the thin line to the side where I have always been and always belonged, I was released form the hatred and illness almost immediately - it lifted off of me, all the darkness and I felt free again - safe again - whole again. I have learned a valuable lesson of late from my newest and freshest enemy - the most powerful darkness I have come up against yet.... You must never ever ever compromise yourself, you must always listen to the voice of God, you must always listen to yourself first, never let anyone - no matter how much you think you are sparing them in your sacrifice - NEVER let someone else drown out your voice, if you do - you give up God, you give up light and you choose the void, the lonely, black darkness. I have never in all my life come so close to losing myself as I have in the last six months, the last few days. I knew what I saw, I knew what I felt, it felt all wrong, it was way too dark, way too ugly, way too sick, way too evil and yet - I walked the thin line anyways, convinced I could hand up my enemy, who's only true purpose in courting me was an attempt to gain my power to feed his. He used my beautiful light to feed his black soul. I am beautiful, and I don't mean looks. I am a beautiful spirit, I have the most beautiful light. My purpose here in this life is to share that light with others. I will never share my light with darkness again, no matter how beautiful it may appear - I will only share my beauty with true inner beauty - use my strong powerful light to make the light of those around me burn brighter. I am needed by a caliber of people who are elitists in a spiritual sense - we know what it truly important about this life, what is valuable, the fundamental difference between right and wrong, good and evil, light and dark and survival of humanity depends on people like us. I may have been intervened with again today - not quite sure, but leaning in that direction as I felt the sickness literally rise off my skin as though the hand of God was washing me clean. I definitely slow danced with the devil though, was temporarily mesmerized, I became like him for a time, lost sight of my children, my purpose, my best effort, my true spirit, my beautiful light. I am grateful tonight to have people in my life that hung on to me and pulled me out of evil's grip - people who know me, have known me for a long time, people who believe in me and believe in the power of my goodness. I will say it again - I am blessed beyond belief..... The darkness is lonely, as no one with any kind of light can stick around in that hellish existence for too long, it is simply no place to be, no kind of life to live.....Hell has a revolving door....I choose to stand still and firm in my light. When the time comes for my end, whether it be sooner or later - whether humanity collapses tomorrow or the day after, I will be safe on the right side (despite "religion")I will be alongside people who chose to live whole, chose to live true, chose to live right, chose God's voice to be their own....

Ma you've always been the tree, to like everyone

With all the literature I have been blessed to read in my life, which is a lot, if you asked me what my favorite book of all time was, I would answer without hesitation and with convincing conviction, The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein. My Mother's once upon a time best friend Janice, gave me my own copy for my sixth birthday, it is currently on the floor at the foot of my bed, fresh and pretty, old and frayed from having just been read for it's 8,657th time ( a guesstimate.) That copy is one of my most prized possessions, if the house were burning down, I'd be scurrying about screaming at the kids. "Help me find the friggen Giving Tree" It means that much to me, it's been around and talking to me longer than most people left in my life. That boy and that tree are characters in my life story. The reason I share this trivial Deb fact with you, is that, last night as my daughter Emma read it to me while I lay next to her taking off my nail polish, a cloud of cotton balls stark on my tan stomach, my head cocked half at her, half at my toes, I had an epiphany and began to weep uncontrollably like the time I stepped on the bee in my back yard and Nana said "Now Deborah Ann, if you had you shoessss on, this never would have happened" and I thought "But Nan, God made feet bare," my feelings hurt that the bee just couldn't have let me run on by avoid all this controversy. I wept for the pain and for being so misunderstood in a world, where even Nana, just can't agree with me that God made feet bare, um duh... I wept like that. And that was some weeping, I promise you, still emotionally scarred by the bee sting insult. The reason I wept, was because I realized that I am the tree. I sat just now head on hand, deep inhale with my eyes closed and let that sink in again. The thing about that damn sweet pretty tree is that she gave everything for the happiness of the boy until she was nothing but an old stump. And then....to insult the injury, when the boy comes back an old lonely man with nothing and that tree sees him coming, well she just does what she does and straightens her little stumpy self just as tall and inviting as she can. Come boy sit. That Mother fucker straightens herself up like her moment of Glory finally come to fruition. Are you with me? I am the god damned giving tree. "I have no boat, but cut down my trunk and build one, than sail away and be happy" - Yeah you go on now with my TRUNK, don't worry about me or anything, chop it the fuck down and please, please be happy after you leave me without so much as a look back. But be happy. When I was a child, I was pissed at the little boy, grown to dip shit teenager, grown to self centered mid-life'ing man, grown to lonely bitter old crow. Pissed off that he just kept taking. I thought the tree was the most noble, gracious, generous, lovely symbol that was ever written in word and sketched on paper. I was impressed by her, wanted to grow up with all those assets hanging from my limbs. Humph, not so much today. As pissed as I am for the boy/man/crow for bleeding the tree dry, leaving only her essence behind, Today, Last night, I was more pissed off at the martyr of the story, miss apple tree in the garden of Eden. Why didn't she tell him to FUCK OFF and quit his goddamn whining? "I need money, I need a wife and kids, I need a house, I need a boat to sail the fuck away in." Boo fucking hoo. Why didn't the tree tell that asshole user that he was barking up the wrong one,even with the tree + me heart carved on my bark to boot, why didn't she say no more before her majestic scope became like six inches. A tree to a stump? The view has got to suck comparatively. And pretty quick... you are realizing that I am the real live Carrie Bradshaw . Also, that stupid selfless tree. Martyrdom. And that folks is an ugly truth about me. Sigh. when Brian came in the room, I told him, I realized something just now.... He sat on the edge of the bed, looking at Emma and I, as I took the book and began to read it, my turn. Once there was a tree, and she loved a little boy....The tears flew down my face, the metaphor there too real even for a realist of my caliber. Somewhere in the middle, I saw Brian's eyes well. And the tree was happy..... (but not really) When I closed the book, mopped up my face with my sheet, Brian said "Ma, you've always been the tree (pause) to like everyone." And there my friends you have it. And you know what? I am the most glorious bad ass tree there is and I want to stay a tree. Shed my leaves every fall in a blaze of death glory so that I can bloom again next Spring, bigger and better, more vibrant, more spectacular, more refined and scenic with every go round. you think my flowers are pretty now? Try me next Spring after another years view from way up here. I have lost my admiration of her sacrifice, and for that, the book has turned equivalent to the family bible in my mind. I may just start sleepin with it under my pillow in case of fire. I am a tree with strong roots, sure they twist about below the surface tangled and deep, almost suffocating the soil, but no matter the temptation, I will NOT become a stump to make anyone a boat to sail away in, unless their name is Kevin, Brian , Emma or Matthew. Watch me the fuck now.

23

There are days in my existence where it is simply unavoidable...The look back. This is one of those days I am impossibly sad to say. I will say that in 23 years, I have never stopped talking to him, he has graciously spoken back in the orange of sunsets, the flutter by of a butterflies wings, the receiving of minor and major miracles all along the way. I will also say that I have missed him every second of every day, not a sun rise has gone up where he is not part of my appreciation. It is just crazy, the way one single, solitary human being, can so profoundly change someone's life, it's course, it's destiny, it's mission statement. He did that for me. No doubt, and I licked my thumb at hello, smeared away the toothpaste that sat at the hinge of his smile... Crazy shit, is that from that very moment he knew he had a choice. Walking into me was like walking into the eye of the storm with a blind fold on, ear plugs buried deep, and your hands tied behind your back. No one is capable of convincing me, that he didn't go willingly to get wings. In the final second of life, he smiled at death, welcomed the higher perspective with open arms and just let go. This is the only way it ever could have happened. I remember this day 23 years ago, as if I were that same, late for work, can't find my sunglasses,"FUCK" - where are my keys???? eighteen year old girl. Thing is - I kinda am. I have come full circle in myself and the old me that died on May 31st 23 years ago in the Charles River, she has been reborn after a battle of the wills - the will to live, well it finally won. I'm Backkkkkk..... I had a message to call him. I did - he was in the shower. His Mother stood in the door frame, the shower ran. he said, "Tell her to wait" I said, "Tell him I'm late" - Right there, at that....the tears never fail to sting no matter how hard I fight them back. Tommy Ryan called at the ass crack of dawn, an accident was on the news "Dee sit down please" I had no knees after that, they buckled into prayer as I watched his hair fall from the side of a stretcher being pulled out of the Charles. His funeral came with the first and worst panic attack of my life. I looked at my own hands as they froze, my lungs crashing together as my chest closed from an impact I could not possibly brace for, I looked around in slow motion for anything that seemed real. I thought I was dying too. I remember the day, the hands, the tree I braced myself on as I stumbled around grave markers, the sounds, his Mother's cries, the breeze, the pounding in my chest, the notebook, blizzard 13, Ain't nothin like the real thing. The details saturate my memory. I remember the day he painted me, my boobs were so pretty then, and to stand naked for six hours felt like a victory deserving of a war cry and a twinkly eyed smile. I remember washing his hair in the claw foot, laughing, as he sat between my legs all that black hair plastered to my chest, it splayed across me like a safety net. I remember a window sill and a butterfly. Music and beautiful hands. I remember everything and it hurts to know so much. But also, it is the greatest blessing of my life. I learned above all, to never NOT say all the things you SHOULD say. If I love you, you fucking know it until it's annoyance. Anyone who I love will tell you, I give it up free like, you'll never have to ask or want. And with that it hurts too much to go on. Rio misses you Johnny. And yes, I know that Nikki Sixx rant was my first published piece smart ass. RIP Boo 23 <3

I remember it well.

Good afternoon to you all,
Today is a day rising heavy in my heart. It is a good day, a beautiful day - the weather could not be any more my cup of tea, I sat in the sun just now thinking that I was born long before my body - I heard stories from my past in the wind.
It is fitting I believe, that this beautiful day serves as a reminder of profound moments and events from the past.
It seems only the only proper tribute to the days gone by, the beauty I mean. Such perfect beauty rose with the sun this morning.
Today is marathon day in my beloved Boston. Sitting behind the road where I stood as a child excitedly watching the thousands of runners pass me by, are my Grandparents. They are together in the earth, a plot by the runners route. I remember as a child visiting that plot, visiting the the grave of my great grandparents who are also buried there - I was always disturbed to see the names and birth dates of my Nana and Papa with a dash and open ended marble. Hard to accept death is part of life when you are seven and your Nana and Papa are your whole world.
I always protested looking, I gazed out beyond our family names and instead made up stories of life and death for all the other names carved in neat rows - any name but our name.
My Grandfather died on marathon day two years ago - like the the beauty of today, I found his timing to be appropriate.
While thousands ran the streets of his city, he spread his wings to fly.
It is also the weekday early opener for the Sox.
He loved baseball and Boston, like I love words and sunlight.
I am homesick today, missing my home, the sound of sneakers with soles worn down after the brutal climb of heart break hill.
Surely there is something about a Southern girl Amos, but there is also something about we Boston girls.
We appreciate the saltiness, we sweat it out from our pores.
Today I miss my home, I miss the walk up lake Street, I miss the little white cups littering the roadway, the people partying on roof tops, the collective cheering of Bostonian 's, the salty sweat that would occasionally whip me in the face as I passed a cup to a thirsty and grateful runner.
I miss my roots and feel them begging for a feed of old dirty water.
Today is also the anniversary of the Virginia tech shootings. A day I will never forget.
I was in Washington DC on the windiest day ever, I was with my family and my extended family, the Dyer-Mitchell clan.
Of course because it is always something, Mary was blown down a set of steps at the Arlington National Cemetery, we spent the remainder of the day in an overcrowded (wind injuries?) emergency room.
It was there that we witnessed the events in Blacksburg unfolding, the giant TV in the waiting room flooded with images of confusion and death. I remember that we were shocked beyond comprehension, still feel that exact same way.
Five years has passed.
My wife is at ground zero today - I have received a text from her, a photo of the new memorial that has since been constructed after our visit on my 40th birthday.
Somehow I think her being there is in line with the theme of the day.
I am a person that never forgets. My memory is as expanse as anything I can think of that is wide and deep, I am a watcher of life, a detail seeker, an imprint maker.
I remember everything in fine detail.
I remember my childhood, the marathon year after year, the sound of the Sox opener on the radio on the front porch, my Grandfathers voice on our final goodbye, the emergency room in DC, what I said to the man who gave Mary the wheel chair, walking across the street fighting a gust that wanted me for a victim, the blue floral shirt I bought that day, the sounds of screaming and confusion and crying coming from Blacksburg. Dave Matthews backing away from his mike for the Hokies to take center stage by candlelight, to sing their words of wisdom, conviction, healing - "don't worry about a thing cause every little thing is gonna be alright."
Ahhh this day is heavy and light.
I remember and I guess that is all I really wanted to say. I remember and I NEVER forget.
xo

girl has gumption.

Good Sunday afternoon my loves, I hope that you all have had a glorious day thus far. Me you ask?
As a matter of fact I have.
I woke up this morning to face hours of biology projects for my final portfolio and although that is NOT what I wanted to be doing, there was certainly a sense of relief in beating the demon down once and for all - this damn class has me procrastinating and avoiding the work all semester - I am just plain not science minded.
First task at hand was to write my contribution statement which will close out my portfolio, it is essentially the period at the end of the book.
It was supposed to be short and sweet, HA - not when it's an opportunity to write in my voice - I went on and on, three pages long. I began the process, assuming that what would pour out of me was a heart felt apology letter, trust me my BIO professor is due that courtesy.
Instead I found myself writing about the challenges I have had to overcome within myself to actually get through the last three years in pursuit of degree number one. I shared with Dr. Willis the phoenix rising from the ashes of the her self inflicted burned down life/self confidence story. I ended by saying that although my contributions to college science were NOT what I am sure he had hoped they would be and were certainly NOT what I had set out to achieve, I had achieved what I was capable of, none the less. I told him that my greatest contribution to biology was outside the classroom, started in my womb and now stands upright times 8 - motherhood is in essence biology - I have had more DNA molecules multiply than most - that, and also I have served as an example and an inspiration to my fellow students. Both in what they should not do (put off their education until middle age when real life is at it's realest) but most importantly what a person is capable of accomplishing despite a bazillion obstacles.
I am not at all sure that he will accept it (I do have a way of ignoring directions) or that he will appreciate it and most importantly as I teeter on the edge of failure, that it will get me a passing grade.
But, I wrote in truth about MY contribution to biology.
I felt satisfied and I guess pass or fail, I have yet again, satisfied the requirements of truth and my own spirit. In the end, this is always what is most important - I have learned this lesson most of all.
Sitting on the table beside me is my graduation notification. If I pass my Spring classes, I will graduate Summa cum Laude - the highest distinction, my GPA I have learned in the group all the way at the top.
Not sure I will pass BIO, may have to repeat the class and get my degree in August, praying that I can pull the final out of my ass and be done with all this science nonsense. Only time will tell.
Regardless I am fanning my feathers like a peacock today, letting all my colors show.
The pretty, the ugly and the variations in between.
It is all those subtleties and extremes that brought the words Summa cum Laude into my life.
I have fought hard and steadfast, been throwing punches underwater struggling to rise for air.
The air feels nice at the top, the view is amazing.
I am NOT, mind you, tooting my horn or running my big mouth.
I am proud that I have finally done what I set out to do a million years ago before the water ran over my life and drowned out my dreams.
I told Dr. Willis that I may never do anything at all with my degree but hang it on my wall amongst my family photos - if that is all that ever becomes of it, it will be if nothing else, amongst the most beautiful company, my proudest achievements hanging together.
Now I sit, for a moment writing to you all, a glass of cranberry juice on ice, my bare shoulders in a strapless sundress the fresh air and a thousand bugs blowing in the open back door, Jason Mraz singing to me about 93 million miles -
I feel satisfied.
I FEEL SATISFIED.
It is a strange new world.
Blessings my friends and as always, all the perfect love in my heart.