Love Never Dies

I know this to be true:

Love remains, even when all that is left is a memory.

Love remains, through the years you should have had together.

Love remains, even as grief changes the very molecules of your soul.

Love remains, as you live your life, alone or with others.

Always, always, love remains.

Love never dies.

Do you ever…. #sketchorama

Do you ever have a project that you’re scared to start? I do. I am.

I signed up for Sketchorama with The New Bohemian Gallery.

I am not an artist.

I am a writer. Who is sometimes inspired by her photographs.

And who got a crazy idea to join in with all the other artists.

The writing is easy. Much of it is done. But do I hand write it? Or print it out and glue it in? That seems like cheating… but I will have to figure out a way to get the photos in the book (I’ve been thinking of trying a clear, matte sticker/label). I feel like I should use my handwriting, as it’s more personal… byt will anyone be able to read it?

I’m doing something outside my comfort level. Much of the writing is done, it just needs to be put into the sketchbook.If only…. If only I could draw. BUt then I’d be an artist of a different stripe.

And yes, I asked first if written words would be ok.

It is.

And still… still I’m frozen. I’ve written the opening page– and I love it. I’ve hand written it in a card and sent it to my Aunt who is magnificently artistically talented . (Hi Aunt Mary!) But actually putting it into the sketchbook? Ummm…

What if I make a mistake?

My sister, another magical artist, says just to do it. That sketch books are meant to be personal. And still I freeze.

But that’s ok. I have a secret weapon— Regina is coming down on the holiday weekend. And I know that if she reads this, before she leaves to go back home that first opening page will be written in the book before she leaves. And as much is already written (going with the theme of water: ocean, river, bay, etc) and some will come new…

But I bet it will have that first page, handwritten, before she leaves.

 

Yesterday, tomorrow’s and today

Yesterday, as I was sitting in my throne crying because of the choice I had to make, I thought to myself… I’ve been to tomorrow. It sucks. Alas, there was no trip to my happy place with good friends, tiny houses and lots ofnlaughter. Instead I slept off a bug that snuck up and attacked me.

But that phrase stuck with me. All day and into this morning.

Who would say that? Would they be in poetry form? Or perhaps… oh my gosh I’m getting an idea for fiction? Can it be true? After so long apart? I know I have another idea, revolving around Face Rock in Oregon….

My imagination is at play, and I am enjoying it. Did it need a rest? Or do I just prefer variety? I think it’s the second one, personally. It’s very hard to peg wynwords down… and I like it that way. A Kaleidescope of crazy imagination that brings me happiness.

Even in the midst of missing out on something I’d been so looking forward to.

Take my lovelies, I’m off to work on a few ideas and sip my sprite.

Tomorrow and Tomorrow

Tomorrow I get to go to my happy place. Santa Cruz, California. I love that town.

I do not love the drive up there. Twisty, winding roads. 

But the city, itself? It’s very bohemian, artsy and I love it.

But not as much as I love the ocean. It recharges me even as it settles my soul. 

So tomorrow and tomorrow’s tomorrow, I will be gone. No internet, no problem. I’ll have my notebook and pens.

Be safe, my lovelies.

Until tomorrow’s tomorrow.

Giving

Sometimes it’s the ones who are hurting the most who give. They fling love and comfort out into the world, even as others deny it to them.

My niece has a whole host of health problems. Because of them, she is in constant, debilitating pain. They run the gamut from her spine to her heart to her intestines to her sinuses and a whole lot that I know nothing about. Somedays, even breathing hurts. 

But I know what hurts more.

There are those who say they love her, and who probably do… that say it’s all in her head. Or are casually cruel: ‘you’re getting fat’. Well, 1. The amount of steroids she’s on swells up her face and 2. Her whole host of medical problems kind of makes it hard to excersize.Her body has turned on her, and so have the people in her life.

And yet. And yet. 

And yet,she is one of my favorite people. We go places together, not alot… but hopefully enough. 

And yet, I know I can call her when I’m having a problem. When I’m lost, I know she’ll help me find my way. And when I’m so frustrated that I’m sobbing, she’ll make me laugh, pick up a ridiculously low priced printer for me and solve the problem.

I called on Sunday, crying because of childcare. My father gave me 12 hours notice that he was leaving on a trip. .. and none of my usual backups were answering the phone or able to help. I had 2 options, if I stayed at the house (which I have to do)…. but they both involved juggling. 

I’m not a good juggler. Things fall, and break, all the time.

So I called her, crying. I only expected her to listen. Instead, she gifted me with a solution. One my son is ecstatic  with, and I am grateful for. I can handle 1 ball in the air.

My heart is easier this week. Her heart… it physically has problems. But the other heart?  It’s bigger than those problems.
Thank you.

One More Book

My son needs to read one more book to get a Library Champion lawn sign. It’s from Sacramento, not our home one… but it’s still going in our yard.

My son has read 15 books since Saturday.

My son, who hates to read, and has consistently struggled with it, has read 15 books.

Since Saturday.

I can’t tell you how proud I am right now. Although, I call myself a writer so I should probably try. It’s a Supercalifragilisticexpialadotious kind of feeling! See! Mary Poppins does have all the answers🙂

Comics were the gateway, of course they are with so many boys. Once he started reading those, I knew it was a matter of time until he caught the bug. I’m not sure if he loves reading as much as I do, or if it was a competition to get the sign, or medal (there’s one of those too!).. but he did it.

I’m dancing in my chair at the library telling you guys this. I had to share, right away. Because… oh my goodness! My boy did it! So inappropriate for the library (the dancing, not the reading).

Lets hear it for the boy! Lets give the boy a hand!

 

Bones

I saw the bones

Of the world

Washed up on shore

Stripped bare of the

Taint of hate

Laying side by side

One atop another

Coexisting
No care for male 

Or female

Republican or Democrat

Black or white

Brown or tan.
How long until

We no longer

Need to wait

Until we’re bones?