F is for Family Secrets

Today F is for Family Secrets. I'm proud to introduce to you a new author. My Best, Cee Hunter, has just published her first book, Family Secrets. It's now available on Amazon.com. I loved this tale of a young girl's coming of age set in Central Louisiana. Reading it, you really get a feel for the culture and the family dynamics of this region of our country. It has suspense, rich heritage, and exposes some of the dangers of keeping dark secrets families don't talk about.

This is Jenny's Alphabe-Thursday. Link up if you like.

For Teddy

It's always been my contention

That a dog should be

big enough,

that if I accidentally

step on her

(and yes, I've always thought

my dog should be a her)

I would do

no lasting harm

And I've stuck with

that formula

until now

I've had

a lab/beagle

a white lab/mystery

a beagle/lab/whippet

(the best guess offered)

and lost them all

That left me,

melancholy

unwilling

to let a soft, furry friend

steal into my heart

yet again.

But Teddy, you did

Your the first boy dog

who stole my heart

You were so unique

(He could catch veggies,

thrown over my shoulder,

while making salad

And liked them)

He was my shadow

faithfully following me

even at the end,

when it was mostly

three, and sometimes

two legs,

which carried him

And silly dog,

he wouldn't go

outside

at all

unless I

was the one who

opened that door

But he wasn't my dog,

he was on loan

I had the complete

privilege

to care for him

as his life waned,

and his “person”

traveled

her own 

painful journey

Then yesterday

the day arrived

when in love

in compassion

in gratitude

we let you go

with lots of petting

and lots of love,

and whispered words

Good-bye, my

Teddy Bear.

Thanks

and

good-bye.

It's One Shot Wednesday.  Write a poem, and link up.  That simple!

P.S There's a new dog in my life, also on loan.  A tiny, 7 pound Yorkie.  Perhaps it's time to expand my horizons and try a new formula.  Just hope I don't step on him...

Two Hearts

Friendship is

when hearts

connect

We've known each other

years, been

each other's pantry

emergency assistance

childcare traders

We've chatted away

an hour...or more

until kids interrupted

just because

we got our mail

at the same time

But now, when

you handed me

the hurts of your heart

to share the burden

we are friends.

It's Flash Friday 55 again.  Go tell g-man, and put your link in his comments (one of these days he's going to give in and use Mr. Linky...) if you want to play!

Seeing

I think 
I'm getting old

It's not just

reading glasses

Or aches and pains

But finally seeing

what we've become.

A world of selfish people

hellbent, 
on getting

our own way

despite the cost

to ourselves,

and certainly to others.

We care not

that others are trampled

in this race.

We just want

what we want

when we want

because

we deserve it.

When I was young,

I thought like a child,

reasoned like a child

But now,

I'm old

and I see.

And what I see is

not what I'd thought.

We'd turn out to be.


It's One-Shot Wednesday.  Write a poem and link up!

Flash Friday 55: Resurrected

I'm startled to find them,

right where I left them

those hard-earned skills

long hidden, under deep cover

unused, unneeded

Cautiously I pull the first one out

(though rusty-crusty,

and faint

from its long dormancy)

it's still useable

Not just for its

intended purpose,

but also

to make me

feel like ME.

Useful.

Once again.

This is Flash Friday 55. If you can write a poem or story in exactly 55 words, go tell g-man and place your link in his comments.

P.S I have a degree in math, and just started tutoring a new client this week. AP calculus. I'm having a blast! The math nerd resurrected! Does wonders for your (recently lacking) self esteem.

D is for Donuts, Again

As a mother, a reluctant homeschooling mother, a volunteer teacher, and tutor...and wife, and friend...yeah, not finding so much time to be Tina the Writer. I wrote this post earlier this spring when I was playing catch-up after joining round 1 of Alphabe-Thursday at the letter K. I thought I'd throw it up here again since there were only a handful of takers last time. Yes, shamelessly looking for feedback. Writers are like that...So here you go...D is for Donuts, Take 2. (Not really, didn't even have time to re-edit it.)

It was a big change going from gymnastics coach to donuts, but I'm a firm believer that to graduate from high school, you gotta serve time in food service. There are so many good life lessons to be learned. I learned mine at Winchell's.

First there's the lesson of humility and having a servant's heart. Once you've been behind that counter having to politely wait on all manner of people, from the nicest little blue haired grandma to the drunken, slobbering, reach-over-the counter-and-grab-your-D-cups fool, you'll have more patience and compassion for the pimply, shy boy who forgets your french-fries.

Respect for authority. Regardless of the idiocy of said authority. My boss was a stoner who somehow missed the memo that we were no longer in the 60s. He used to go into the men's room to smoke his marijuana. For long periods. Customers would want to use the ONE restroom. And couldn't. I'd apologize. “It's out of order, I'm so sorry.” I'd finally had enough and confronted him. Casually. “Jerry, someone's been smoking marijuana in our restroom, and I think we should alert the police.” This brought his eyes UP from where they usually rested during our conversations. (Finally!) His reply, “But we don't know which customer it is!” Too which I calmly replied, “Oh, but I do.” And stared him down. I guess he had some functioning braincells left because he didn't do it again. He just came to work already stoned. SIGH.

Hard work. Do a good job at whatever job you find yourself. It just makes it more pleasant for everyone. It wasn't long before Jerry had me working the oh-dark-hundred morning shift. “You're so fast, I need my best girl in the morning.” If you want to get on my good side, making me get up at 5 am is NOT how to do it, buddy. But I'll say this, time does go by a lot faster when you're on your toes for a morning rush than it does in the afternoons when all you're doing is cleaning up the grease in the back room and making frosting for tomorrow. And you don't have to mop in the mornings.

Customer service. People appreciate extra attention and the personal touch. These days a lot of us make regular stops at coffee shops for lattes and such. Back in the 80s when I was schlepping donuts, people made regular stops for our coffee. It was good coffee, and being a coffee snob, I always made sure we had fresh pots, and I did memorize which regular had which size and what they took in it. And since I couldn't help but also know what car they drove (my dad worked for a car company, I'm always looking at cars) I'd have their order ready when they hit the counter. They liked that. Ok, there was that one time that I spilled LargeCoffeeBlack's order all over the counter...but that was when my apron got stuck in the cash register...which is a whole post by itself.

So if there's ever a petition going around adding fast food to graduation requirements, I'll be signing it. But apparently I didn't learn my lessons well enough at Winchell's, because I had a few more hard ones to learn at Wendy's. In costume.

This is Alphabe-Thursday, the letter D over at Jenny's.  Come on over and link up!

One Shot: Laughing Gravity

He asked me,

why poetry?

I laughed metaphor,

while he answered,

with the sureness of gravity.

I tried word portrait

and he said there's only reality.

Then I smiled, because yes,

reality

but through half-closed eyes

with wishing

and the benefit of the doubt.

He said no, black&white

never changing.

I disagreed, but with

dancing words,

spinning circles of possibility

around his to-do list

and all over his meticulous

calculations.

That's when he smiled,

and took my hand,

and we walked in the rain,

giggling

because who knew that

head in the clouds

and feet on the ground

would make such a

perfect union.

It's time for One-Shot Wednesday. Write a poem, and link it up!

Flash Friday 55: Grieving

I'm lost.

How do I comfort you

in your grief, when

I believe in

purpose

and

all things work together for good

(even when they're bad)

That's no comfort

to you, who doesn't share

this faith, this

stronghold

which helps me make sense

of such senseless waste

when someone so important

to you is gone.

It's Flash Friday 55.  Go see g-man if you have a contribution and leave your link in his comments.

For Carly

I will remember you, Carly. You will not be forgotten. Your (short) life meant something.

On one of the most scenic roads in my relatively small town, your memorial still stands. As I drive past your cross and flowers, I remember how you died. The newspaper article was heartbreaking. Your mother, trying to protect you, would pick you up from school, half a mile away. But you wanted to walk home. You surely knew the way at age 13, just starting to blossom with independence. At last, she relented. It was your very first time walking home. You and your friends were laughing and joking as you crossed at the designated place. The park was behind you, the median with it's canal and trees ahead of you. You were lagging a bit behind, probably laughing, when the van came out of nowhere and mowed you down. 68 in a 35 mph zone. You didn't stand a chance.

Oh how our town grieved. The senseless tragedy, and the horror of having a mother's worst fear confirmed just as she'd started to loosen the reigns just a bit. And we cried for the young driver, with the new license, who promptly went home and shot himself. For years, we had those portable “Your speed is” contraptions set up at your intersection. And then time went by. The road was repaved. Re-striped. Speed limit lowered.  Yet still today, many drive by much too quickly.   


Carly, I remember you, and I slow down and say a prayer and gaze in sorrow at the spot which to this day, 17 years later, tells your story. And I grieve. Your life was short, but it was not wasted. You will remain in our town's hearts, and I hope that others might slow down a bit when they pass by this reminder.

This is round two of Alphabe-Thursday.  I know, I've missed the last two weeks.  But it's good to be back today.  Check out some other great posts featuring the letter C over at Jenny Matlock's "off on my tangent".

October, At Last

Bushes burn,

their

blood red robes

declaring autumn

to the maple,

who answers with

a red of her own,

not fiery, yet

fiercely fine

in deeper hue.

Her leaves flutter

as that cooler breeze

blows the scattering remnants

in a bold ballet, while

the afternoon light

grows more intensely gold

and the shorter days

whisper of winter

still to come

But for now,

the play has begun

and the intricate dance

between autumn's

exclamations

and winter's pause

beckons me outside

to wander in wonder

at the dazzling display

Creation sings with joy

each colored voice

declaring His Majesty


It's One Shot Wednesday.  Check out some new writers!  These poets are amazing.  

While checking out this week's Magpie, I realized this would fit here as well.  So in the spirit of I've had no time to write, I'm double linking this post.  Magpie has a variety of artists, some poets, some fiction writers, some photographers.  Isn't it fun to meet new people?  If you want to join us, just use the picture above as your prompt, then get creative.