Tag: home

Being in the Goodness

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Independent Woman10 Comments

Credit: www.bestquotes4you.com

I am at a peak of delight. Unusual for a Monday, but perhaps it came from a rising awareness of being in transition. As a culture, we don’t embrace realignments to our mojo. Instead, we  grit our teeth and bear it, or hang on holding our breath until it’s over, or worse, crawl our way to the other side exhausted and falsely relieved. I refuse to live my life waiting for my new life to begin. I will happily admit that  I am more than ready to start a new chapter in a new zip code with my beloved fiance’. But like any compelling saga, one must begin the story with a strong prologue.

So  much has shifted in one week’s time here; it is challenging to put into words. But it is proof to me that wishes sent out to the Great Beyond can happen if you let your worries go first. As you ride the universe’s flow, amazing things are manifested. I am giving the house one or two last renovations, necessary in order for four young people to live in a healthier space in a year’s time. One that is nearly free of my obvious imprint but still stamped with my positive energy and vibrations. (I tell you it is exciting to keep purging this place of things we no longer need!)

My boys and I have been delivered from the trauma and pain of their father. We came together so that we could grow stronger. Along the way, we were honing our skills as independent individuals in pursuit of our own passions. I don’t know what I would have done with myself if we did not journey to this new space together, helping each other through fits and starts.

In a few week’s time, I will share this house with two others. Two people, peers of my sons who love and respect them. They will be helping me get a better leg up financially so I am better prepared for my new life. In return, I can provide a safe haven. A garden where they can grow new roots in a healthy soil. I have no doubt that we all will bloom and fill this earth renewed beauty.

Today Iam grateful for the wonders and love of others.  So with my thumb knuckles to my third eye, I bid you all: Namaste’.

A Moment of Serenity

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Uncategorized17 Comments

Credit: fineartamerica.com

 

Sitting here in an early June quiet. The days have finally grown into a full warmth. This late spring surge of sun has distracted me from my writing. We cut grass, plant flowers that will last well into early fall, lay down mulch. Fret over carpenter bees boring holes in the upper eaves at the back of the house (I need a 25 foot ladder to reach them). Douse the paper wasp nest with chemicals before it outgrows the strength of  our spray can.  Stain the long neglected front porch a luscious mahogany red while noticing that we need new risers. The rails need a fresh coat of white. The north side of the house looks tired. Long winters and years of just plain wear are evident at this direction of the house’s compass.  I try not to worry about the expense of repairs and send out intentions of abundance to the universe.

A year from now, this house will be my sons’ domain. Rented with others in order to afford payments. We are shifting gears. Learning to be present in a major life transition. Sharing in the pulls and tugs of the here and now as we move into the there and then. Keeping our eyes wide open while we let go of the old life little by little. We are all making our way into an independent dynamic. There is much to do before my wings take flight.  I send out more intentions-ones where I hope to avoid the vortex of panic and anxiety. A friend says “Don’t be afraid to pray for big things.”  So I do.

For now, I am staying in this moment. Sitting up in bed, nearly ready for sleep. The house is empty except for me. The crickets are back and the night breeze is full. Cool and cleansing, sort of a northern climate mini spa in my mind.  I look forward to refreshing dreams and a new morning sun.

 “Listen to yourself. And in that quietude you will hear the voice of God”

– Maya Angelou

 

Happy Hour

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn poetry2 Comments

Credit: www.lynnegolodner.com

Black coffee in bed

The morning quiet adding the sweetness to my first sip

My day unfolds with no set plans

A run in the rain

I lose myself in dreams

My body a zen-like stream

as I am carried over these endless rises

A heated cleansing

The ritual soothing to the double digit distance

Stomach empty- a primal hunger invades

I sip and sup listening to Saturday stories

The day turns raw

I shelter myself  baking, laundering and dancing 

A spontaneous urge propels me out the door 

Seeking sustenance

I turn my wheels and spy two mates

We gather at the bar

Coffee, Tea for they and me

Tall tales Told (gosh are we getting old!)

Time flies by

We leave and say goodbye

I arrive at the stead new plans ahead 

Dinner to make or should I bake? 

The night is a pup

At five, I fill my cup

One needs to dine with a good fine wine!

 

Day 26 of the Challenge. For my friends L and J: Thanks for being a part of my day! XO

Morning Clarity

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn poetry2 Comments

Credit:  www.leemaysgardeninglife.com

 

Venus greets me before the sun

The day’s first star in the East

I step out the back door

Settle on the steps

Sipping, Listening Seeing

My stockinged feet welcome the chill of the cement

A runner’s massage before the road’s daily aches

Birdsong chatter a welcome cacophony

Drowning out Winter’s silence once more

Ducks make their way to their liquid oasis

Rapid beating of wings a thrilling urgency

A celebration of the newer season

I fill my lungs, the air freshly cold

Nary a scent:pure

My mind has yet to be cluttered

I sip my beany brew

Offering up peace, honoring the gift

for this brand new day

Hope’s Beginnings

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Flash fiction14 Comments

This house has a story…what is it?

Image Credit: We Heart It

“Do you ever wonder what really happened in that house?”, Blake asked. They were sitting in the truck just moments after he and Julie had signed the purchase and sale on the former Stanton family property. Julie had grown up in these hills and was once close to Jeannie Stanton,  a childhood friend who disappeared one fall afternoon in their fifteenth year, never to be heard from again. Jeannie was one of seven children from that rag-ma-tag family where chaos and cracking heads ruled through the dirty deeds of their patriarch, Joe.  Jeannie’s mother was far from quiet herself, known to pull heavily on the tap at Smitty’s, the local bar where she worked serving drinks and other ‘amenities’ to the men from the local coal processing plant- long since closed and cleaned up. No one even knew for sure if all seven of the kids actually were Joe’s. The EPA finally did its job and the old brick campus had been successfully retrofitted and resurrected into  a world-class sound studio.  Famous musicians from across all genres recorded some of their best work in this forgotten corner of the state. Julia and Blake had become big hitters in attracting legendary acts to record and even stay in the area.

Blake, of course, had no idea of what to expect when he first entered Julie’s childhood world. They met in London, both working as sound engineers, honing their talent with the best of them. When Julie’s dad- an engineer and business man himself- bought up some of the old factory buildings from the government, he decided that some of them would work perfectly as recording spaces. Others he turned into research and development spaces. Soon he was attracting fervent interest from scientists keen on learning and creating new avenues into the world of sound.

On a return visit home with Blake last year, he and Julie had come across the abandoned property. Knowing its negative history had not stopped them from envisioning a place that would serve as a haven and respite for kid’s who were victims of abuse and neglect. Too many of the Stanton kids had become lost souls. Now that Julie had the means and connections to turn things around, she set her heart and mind on making it happen.

Just then, a rumbling sound came up from behind them. A fleet of contractor trucks loaded down with heavy equipment came roaring up the rough road. Blake planted  a kiss on Julie’s lips.  “Time to get to work,” she said.

fwf kellie elmore badge

Another great gift from Kellie Elmore this week!

#FWF Free Write Friday: Image Prompt

by Kellie Elmore

He Saw It In A Frosted Window Pane

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Flash fiction15 Comments

Photo credit: www.flickr.com

He stood on the street corner in the shadow of the amber street lamp. The night was bitter cold and the promised snow was gently falling on the shoulders of the people who passed him by. They appeared not to notice him as the peals of their holiday laughter echoed down the hushed city avenue.

He never felt so alone. Bereft. He knew that she and her husband were back in the city for the holidays visiting family. Their sons were grown now with little ones of their own and she never missed a chance to be near her precious grandchildren. She bought the brownstone so she would have a place to stay and play on her visits. Despite the distance, it was clear that she had kept a strong sense of community here; the amount of guests entering the doorway provided enough evidence. Never mind the vibe of good cheer and love that seemed to dance through the bricks of the building.

He moved closer. His sons were not interested in seeing him once again this year. He was dying to see what his four grandchildren looked like-he had never met them or seen them in a photograph. He knew that they were at the prime age to experience the magic and wonder of the season and he longed to share it with them.

At once, the four appeared in the large bay window. Two girls and two boys-maybe four to six years of age dressed in their Christmas finery. A picture postcard of innocence and joy.

His heart wrenched and he fell to his knees. On this night-this eve-it came rushing back to him. The weight and force and pain of what he had walked away from all those years ago.  He was crushed and defeated. Weak. He rose slowly, his feet wet and cold, his fingers stiffened by the frost.  He had not walked far-just enough to be out of sight when an overwhelming sense of fatigue came over him. He sought respite in the nearest snow bank.

                                                 *********

“Hey, mister are you all right?”  The group of  revelers came upon him a few hours later, his body nearly hidden in the snow except for the black of his boots. “Aw Jeez man. I think he’s dead. Call 911.” The wagon came quietly. They loaded him on the gurney and checked for identification. None. Just another John Doe lost to the streets they thought. They could hope that someone would notice he was missing and give him a proper burial. But no one ever did.

I took a bit of liberty with the FWF title “I Saw It Through a Frosted Window Pane.” It fit with the story. I am sure Kellie won’t mind!

Take a look at the other great writers over there by just clicking on the link below:

#FWF Free Write Friday: Pick a Title

Scent of a Man

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Independent Woman1 Comment

credit: tribune.com.pk –

She knew it was over when she couldn’t stand the smell of him. The pheromones that had once madly attracted her to him had dissipated. She wasn’t even sure when he turned from being a melliferous man into one who oozed a certain bitter brininess.

His odor permeated the bedroom-an overwhelming form of halitosis-especially in the morning. She remembers how it used to startle her awake. She would be lying close to him one minute and then quickly find refuge on the other side of the bed the next.

It wasn’t long before she arose earlier and earlier each day in an effort to escape the toxicity of him. The raunchiness remained even after he finally woke up and left the room. Then, while he was showering, she would pull down all the bed covers and throw open the windows in an effort to rid the room of his stench.

On the surface, he was a meticulously clean man. He dressed sharply and every hair was in place. But just beneath lay the sewage of his soul. Lately, it had been percolating, bubbling up. He created hazardous waste within their relationship and in their own home.

She knew that his habits were really a manifestation of his need for total control of his own environment at best and an overall inconsideration and disrespect for her at worst. Because he didn’t feel like hanging his jackets in the back hall (where it was cold in the winter), he would pile them up on a kitchen chair. He left his shoes right outside the living room where she or the children inevitably would trip on them.  “Watch where you’re going!”, he would say. He also had his special stack of magazines and papers on one of the living room end tables. She was not allowed to move them except if she dusted.

He seemed to have no problem sitting his ass on the couch while she ran around the house like a whirling dervish cooking dinner and cleaning after working all day either.  A meal and a clean house were par for the course. But she sure was getting tired of cleaning up the toothpaste scum off the bathroom sink’s soap dish. He refused to put his brush with the rest of the family’s. Instead, he would lay it down near the open tube, not caring if he left remnants of saliva or paste on the surface. And he never shut their closet door.  Just left it wide open for her to stub her toe or hit her head in the middle of the night when she got up to pee.

When she called even the slightest attention to any of these issues, he would raise holy hell. Start talking about her bad habits. Tell her, “If you don’t like it, there’s the door.”

She knew she was in a vicious cycle. She was weary and unloved. And she couldn’t stand him or his foulness any longer.  It was time to plan her exit.

“The only thing more unthinkable than leaving was staying; the only thing more impossible than staying was leaving. I didn’t want to destroy anything or anybody. I just wanted to slip quietly out the back door, without causing any fuss or consequences, and then not stop running until I reached Greenland.”
― Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love

An Unexpected Present

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Childhood Memories34 Comments

credit: www.polyvore.com

Growing up, Christmas was a big deal in our house. My dad believed in going all out with gifts at this time of year. He grew up in a large family during the Depression.  He always remembered not getting what he wanted because money was always tight. The story goes that he vowed that his children would not have the same experience as he did.

Needless to say, the living room in our small ranch house was overflowing with gifts for my brother, mother and me.  As I am writing this, I can still picture all the gifts we received over the years. Barbies, kitchen sets, drum sets, guitars, games, clothes, toy guns and helmets (Vietnam loomed large then), bikes ( I actually rode mine in the kitchen while mom was putting the turkey in the oven!).  My dad was a huge believer in Santa Claus and insisted that he existed well into our teenage years.

But even though we were spoiled at Christmas, my brother and I never asked for anything outrageous. We were always overjoyed and appreciative of the gifts we received. One year-maybe 1975-my dad asked me if there was something that I wanted for Christmas but probably would not get.  I replied that I really wanted a stereo system but knew that they could not afford one. Rock and Roll music and FM radio were in their heyday and it seemed like everyone was listening to their stereos full blast and buying albums that featured the Stones, Led Zeppelin and Aerosmith, among others.

On December 23rd of that year, we were at my Nana and Grandpa’s apartment enjoying our annual roast pork dinner. Nana always made a special meal or shared a Christmas tradition with each of her five children.  Our time was always on this date. After dinner, my father asked me to go into the bedroom because Santa had delivered  a present to the apartment for my brother and me. Apparently, it was hidden under the bed. I pulled out a long, wrapped and somewhat heavy box. On the tag it said: “To Kim and David From Santa. Do not open until December 25th.”  My brother and I were puzzled as to what it could be. Like I said, we had no expectations at all for any big gifts.

When family and friends gathered at our house on Christmas Eve, I told my uncle about the gift.  “Don’t open it first,” he said.  “Save it for last.” He knew that my dad would be dying to see our faces right away.

We did as he suggested. Together the two of us opened the gift last on Christmas morning.  And WOW!  We were dumbfounded! An Am/FM stereo system with a turntable and two speakers!  Of course, my dad persisted in saying that he and my mother did not purchase it-Santa did.

That stereo stayed with me for many years. In high school, I listened to many of rock’s best albums on it. All of  Fleetwood Mac, Jackson Browne, Elton John, The Eagles, Billy Joel, Chicago.  I brought it with me to college and blasted Bruce and U2 ( the early 80’s albums-OMG!) and The Clash.

For me the gift symbolizes many things: Rock music at its best, memories of my teenage and college years, but most of all my father’s unconditional love.

 

This post is brought to you by the venerable Kellie Elmore and her Free Write Friday prompt:

#FWF Free Write Friday: Childhood Gift

Write about your most memorable childhood gift. Was is a Christmas gift? A Birthday gift? Was is something you really wanted or was it a surprise that ended up holding a sentimental place in your heart? What do you remember? How did it make you feel?

free write friday kellie elmore

Leibster Award

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Awards4 Comments

liebster

For those who are unfamiliar with the Liebster Award rules here they are :

1. Thank the blogger who nominated you for the Liebster Award, and link back to his or her blog.

2. Answer the 11 questions that your nominator asks you.

3. Post 11 random facts about yourself.

4. Nominate 11 bloggers of your own, with under 200 followers, whom you think are as awesome as you.

5. Create 11 questions for your nominees.

6. And finally… Display the Liebster Award logo on your page.

   11 random facts about me:

1- What made you start blogging the very FIRST time?

I was encouraged to start a blog by my oldest son and my fiance’ in the Winter/Spring of 2012. According to them, I have a way with words!  So, I read books on writing (Bird by Bird by Annie Lamott and On Writing by Stephen King), attended a writing symposium for an evening at Eckerd College in St. Petersburg, Florida (hosted by authors  Dennis Lehane and Andre Dubus III) and read lots of memoirs. And with the help of my oldest son’s girlfriend, created my blog last August!

2- If you had to go to a deserted island for 3 months, what 5 things would you not be able to live without?  Books, paper and pen (I count them as 1 thing!), strong coffee, my sons and my fiance’.

3- What size shoes do you wear? 7.5

4- Do you believe in true love and why? Yes but only when you are happy with yourself first and understand who you are. True love is not the stuff of Lifetime movies.  In my experience, I found that it brings me a strong sense of peace and simmering joy.  The person you are with understands you on a profound and deep level- your essence.

5- How old should a person really be permitted to drive and explain why?  Eighteen! Having two sons get their license at 16 and 17 and seeing how much better they are 3-4 years later makes me think that 18 is just about right. Executive function and the fusing of the pre-frontal lobe in the brain usually occur in boys between the ages of 18-20.

6- What is  your favorite meal of the day?  I have no favorite actually! I like all 3 meals for various reasons. I am mindful of what I eat (even when it comes to dessert!) so I enjoy every bite of anything that arrives in my bowl or on my plate!

7- If you could control the weather, what would you choose?  A day much like today. 77 degrees F. Dry and Sunny with the bluest of blue skies. I mean you cannot believe how brilliant it is out there!

8- If you could eliminate one thing evil in this world, what would that be?  All forms of violence, abuse, oppression, suppression and repression towards women. When women are held down, disrespected, or not allowed to have a voice,  everyone is held back from moving towards the fullest expression of themselves and towards being  a gcontributing citizen of the world.

9- We have animal protection, child protection, should we start having laws protecting elderly persons?  Absolutely! We treat our elders as if they are waiting to die rather than a person who has lived a life and deserves dignity and the utmost respect.

10- Have you ever had a speeding ticket and when was that?  Never! A warning once but never a ticket.

11- What did you want to be when you were in Grade school?  I was too busy playing to even think about it!

Eleven Facts About Myself:

1) I love to run and have been involved in the sport at various levels since I was 11 (that is 41 years with some time off in my 20’s).

2) I love yoga almost as much as running. My mat is always out and I attend hot yoga classes regularly.

3) I love being outside-hiking, mowing, shoveling snow, running, walking-any reason to get out every day.

4) I love good food and I love to eat.

5) I love a good strong cup of coffee in the morning when I wake up.

6) I speak my mind. For years, I forgot how to do that and now I do it all the time!

7) I love being a mom to my twenty-something sons. They turned out to great men thanks to me!

8) I love to write and read. I think the only time I didn’t read a book was when I was giving birth to my sons!

9) I love the beach-no matter what season.

10) I love spending time with my girlfriends.

11) I love training for and running in half-marathons with my fiance’.

Many of the blogs I follow have more than 200 subscribers or have already been awarded a Liebster.  So after careful consideration, I am nominating the following wonderful writers:

1) Heidi Barnes at: http://www.anauthorandhermuse.com/:  Gifted writer. A joy to read.  Check out her books.

2) Annie at  ANNIE’S MUSE  Love her poetry and her point of view.

3)  Charlene  whose words really rock! at Brighterdays Blog

4)  The lovely and powerful Pink Woods

5) Amazing, suspenseful flash fiction from:  Amanda’s Writing

6) Photography, flash fiction, poetry and a newly published book from:  Artifacts and Fictions

7)   I truly admire Maria’s creative versatility and her love of the outdoors. Check her out @ xxculture

Here are your questions (with 1 or 2 from the ones posed to me)

1)  What is one place in the world that you would like to visit?

2)  What is your favorite word?

3) What is your least favorite word?

4) If you were to meet someone famous (dead or alive), who would it be and why?

5)  What book have you read lately that you would recommend?

6) When was the first time you fell in love?

7)  What is your dream job?

8)  What job would you least like to do?

9) If you could eliminate one thing evil in this world, what would that be?

10) If you had to go to a deserted island for 3 months, what 5 things would you not be able to live without?

11) What is your favorite time of day and why?

Congratulations Nominees!

Geographical Escape 3.2: Mud Season

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Flash fiction2 Comments

photo credit: info.forwater.com

The ground was squishy beneath his feet. His legs hard to lift. His lungs heavy with effort. His body soaked with sweat and muddy splatter. His clothes at one with his skin. He’d fall into a puddle of muck only to rise and have his face raked by the knives of branches. He was blind. The path a long shadow of darkness.  He could hear the pounding of feet and exerted breath of someone behind him.  Gaining ground.

He was overpowered by the force. Jumped from behind. His face planted in the mud. Hands at the back of his neck.  Legs squatted on his spine.  His words were muffled screams. “I promise I won’t tell! I promise I won’t tell! Let me go! Let me go! Let me go!”

Ella was shaking him. Her face scratched and her arms red with the imprints of his fingers. Tears streamed down her face. “STOP! STOP! TOM! TOM! WAKE UP PLEASE!

He was hyperventilating. Losing air. His heart wrenched at the sight of his wife’s wounds. He began to weep. ” I know you didn’t mean it, darling. But the nightmares have gotten worse.”  Do you want to talk about it?”  He shook his head emphatically. He would just need to get a grip that’s all.  He thought the winter’s affair had cleansed him of the stench on his soul. But the nightmare was so vivid in its action and its accompanying emotions. Fear and Guilt hung in the air.

He had begun to dread bedtime. He would creep out of bed after Ella fell asleep and wander the house. Check on the kids. The doors and windows. The rains were relentless, causing area rivers to overflow their banks. Some roads became impassable. He was unable to ride his bike for relief. Sometimes Tom sat outside in the midnight torrents not sure if the water might drown him. He was drenched in stink.

The weather became an inspiration for Ella. She painted and sculpted productively through the winter season while he was away.  The current season’s gloom lent a noir element to her art. So much so that their nearby city’s well-known gallery wanted  to show her work. To Tom’s  inquiries about her theme, her reply was simple. “All of us have a dark side, sweetheart. But it remains our choice as to how we express it.”

So here he sat in yet another downpour. Warm air moved in and with it great claps of thunder and dangerous bolts of lightning.  He knew who was on top of him in the incubus. But how could he tell anyone it was the face of his father?