Daily Prompt; My Precious


http://dailypost.wordpress.com, DP, Daily Prompt

Who is the person in your life who can do no wrong? Describe this person and tell us why you hold them in such high esteem.

Photographers, artists, poets: show us PRECIOUS.

Who is the person in my life that can do no wrong? I am sorry, I can’t think of anyone who can do no wrong except one lady. I used to think there were two. My best friend, L.S. and my dad.

Now being down to one I feel so lucky that I have that very best friend who I think the highest regards for. Who in my eyes does no wrong.

Now when I was a kid, not too many years back I had a few favorite people I felt could do no wrong. Idols, who I looked up to. Visits I got so excited about. Smiles so big that they showed missing teeth. Yes, those were the days. Can you guess who they were in a young girl’s life? Let me show you by photo only. I know you will guess then.

tooth fairyeaster bunnysanta clause

A Good Laugh Was Needed Today


Today I escaped the house for an hour. I had to go to the Pharmacy and pick up a new medication for Al. Lyrica, the doctor is hoping it will help his pain while his body contracts into a smaller body.

I went by my old elementary school on my way home. I don’t know why I revisit places like this. Maybe I am yearning for my free youth. Maybe I enjoy the memories. I stopped in front of the school and had a chuckle.

It was recess time. Remember those recess times? Freedom from studying, being quiet and listening to the teacher talk on and on and on? A time to forget the world and frolic and play.

I can remember catching grasshoppers in the back yard of the school. I remember playing tether ball. I really liked that game. A ball on a rope and a single pole. Playing it with another student trying my best to get it to go around past until I scored a win.

Playing chalk hop scotch and jump rope. Even as I sit here writing I look at my life now and back then and I would have never dreamed that it was going to play out like it is. Here I am caring for my brother. I have done a lot with my life and yet nothing that anyone will remember.

I sat in my car just smiling and then it dawned on me the weather. It has been very warm for December here lately but that all changed this afternoon. Now we are in the thirties and we are going to only be in the high of twenties for a few days.

But when I was at the school it was still forty something outside. I watched the kids as they ran and played and part of me envied their free spirit. The innocence of a child not having to worry about sick people, or bills or how they are going to eat.

Then I looked down at myself. I laughed out loud. I had a sweatshirt and sweatpants on. The heater was on in the car. All my windows were rolled up. The oldies station was being heard on the radio.

As I enjoyed watching these young people I saw that their clothing was quite different from mine. Some had shorts on and sweatshirts. Others had jeans and jackets wrapped around their waist. Some had jackets that were unzipped and flying in the breeze.

I laughed so hard when I realized I was or am becoming my parents and grandparents. I used to laugh at my family because in the fall I was wearing my shorts and Mom was saying she was so cold.

Where does the time go and how does it slide so quickly without us realizing it? In my mind I am still young. There are more and more days that my body reminds me that on my birthday I will be that big scary number 60.

I watched them for a bit longer and then started the car. I turned my fifties music up. It was Elvis Presley singing Rubberneckin.  I had revisited my youth, picked up medications for a very ill brother, and noticed time had been ticking all these years. I was definitely becoming my Mother.

 

Elvis-Presley

Reliving The Days


 

Reliving The Days

Pictures from long ago

Bring a smile to my face and so

I will relive what once was true

Al and I standing under the tree in new shoes

A brand new toy did Santy bring

For Mom it was a sparkly ring

Dad smiling from ear to ear

With all his tools and gear

Crackles of laughter I still hear

As I am sitting here

Remembering the good old days

When life was good no illness in the way

And as I smile and remember back

The tears do fall upon my lap

As I see how life really goes

And there is one thing I know

I am thankful for my memories today

As I relive the old- fashioned days.

Written by,

Terry Shepherd

11/29/2013

me and brother

#FWF Free Write Friday; Gratitude


fwf1

Memories of yesterdays

Wishing I could go back

Laughter and chatter

Kids racing outside

Daddy’s snoring

Mommy’s gossip

My head laying peacefully

In Grandma’s lap

Belly full yet more dessert

Today I didn’t hear no

Oh what I wouldn’t give

To see Grandma sitting right there

In her comfy recliner

Daddy laying on the couch

Aunts doing dishes

A table full of food

Candles lit in the middle

All holding hands saying grace

Tears come to my eyes

As I go back in time

And remember those days

Of freedom and loving

Now many years later

I have my own children

Forming new memories

But I can’t help but to mingle

Intertwine the old with the new

A complete life of me and my family.

Written by,

Terry Shepherd

11.22.2013

Blog of the Year Award 1 star jpegthanksgiving tablebook4free-write-friday-kellie-elmorehttp://kellieelmore.com/

 

The Talk and Tricks of the Mind


I don’t know what started it this morning, the talk. Nothing was different. I walked into the same picture I always do, but for some reason I couldn’t let things go unsaid.

Let me back up a few years to the point where Dad and Al were still living together. I would say the words that described most of Al’s life from a teen on are; anger, fear, hatred. A pretty sad way for a teen to live when this is supposed to be some of the most fun years ever.

Dad never accepted that Al was different. Dad had his own issues and the only way he felt he knew how to deal with his insecurities was to take it out on Al. I have seen Dad yell, walk a way, shake his head, talk badly about us kids. I have seen Al red-faced, fists drawn, tears flowing, fear in his face. I have seen all I care to see.

There was a golden or rotten rule as I call it in our home. Mom and Dad were the boss. I could argue or try to but I could guarantee a slap in the mouth for sassing. My opinions really didn’t matter to them, they were in charge. As Dad said, he paid the bills, it was his house.

Now move forward to when Dad died and Al had his heart attack. Our sister is from another planet I will say because God would not like if I said what I really thought. Family turned their backs on us because of money. I ended up taking care of Al from the day he had heart surgery.

Now today, six years later, I have carried so much sadness because I am the one who sees the depressed face. I am the one who is not spoken too. I am the one who can’t fix what Dad did.

So day after day all these years I have walked into his bedroom with a smile on my face and a good morning to you when I get Al up. When the time was that Al could walk and M.S.A. was not even heard of, I made very sure Al got to experience life as he should have as a teen.

I did so many things for him. Now wait a minute, don’t think I want a pat on the back because I don’t. I did and do what I do for Al because he is my brother, I love him. I am not going to say there is a kindred bond between us. That was never allowed. Al and I spent our bonding days sitting on straight chairs with one toy and not allowed to speak. How could we bond, but I do love my brother.

I would and will do anything for him possible but sometimes, such as today, it just gets to me too much. The understanding side of me that tries so hard to over-look the lack of any feelings towards me just surfaced and boiled over like hot water on the stove.

At least once a month I give in and let my feelings be known to who ever will listen. I hear the same thing over and over. You are his sister, you are not his friend. He isn’t going to treat you like he does his friends. You won’t get the smiles or conversations.

OK, I get it but I don’t like it. It hurts, I am not going to lie. Although I do everything in my power to make him realize I love him it doesn’t work. I will go for weeks trying to push aside the hurt, then it comes out again.

Today, I was bathing Al and I just had this sick feeling. Inside I was bubbling over with thoughts of I do everything for you and all I get in return is tears, snotty nose, anger, no smiles.

Should I go on? No, because then it once again sounds like I am doing something for a reward. The only thing I ever have asked from Al is that he just lets me know in his own way that he loves me too.

I had him almost completely washed and I just put down the wash cloth and sank on his bed. I looked at him but he didn’t look at me, he never does. He has never looked at me when I speak to him. He will smile at me big if he knew I was taking him to an antique store or to Wal-Mart to get a new car.

It always reminds me of when I was young and I was a good girl. I would get rewarded for being quiet by getting a sucker. So this morning I just told him flat-out I wanted a smile. He ignored me. I asked him if he was having pain, he said no.I asked him if he got enough to eat, he said yes.

So I fell into my familiar trap. “Why are you so depressed-looking then. Why no smile? No pain, belly filled, cleaned up and clean clothes.” He responded with ” I don’t know.”

I edged further, my deep questions. ” Why don’t I get a smile, just one like your friends do? Why don’t you chat with me like you do everyone else?”

His response was tears and runny nose and then finally he said, ” Because you and I don’t get along, just like Dad.”

Well that was sort of a big deep void for me because I couldn’t fix what Dad had done. I was not allowed into family issues until after Dad died. I have explained to Al for six years that I am not Dad, that I loved him. I have told him numerous times I take care of him because I love him. I told him that no sister/brothers get along all the time. I told him that I get tired just like he does. That it makes me sad just like he does to see this illness doing what it does.

It didn’t matter. He sees me as Dad. He and Dad didn’t get along at all. His life was hell in his eyes, so the times that Al and I disagree, Al carries it for life. It is me, Dad and me, me all the same person.

He cried harder knowing he didn’t really understand why he feels the way he does. I think his mentality challenges doesn’t help separate the truth from the actions. So I am still back at square one. Nothing will change. I get a little hard inside, telling myself not to get so involved. Just take care of him, do the best I can and be done with it. I tell myself to quit going out of your way because you are never going to get it through his head that a sister and brother can argue but that doesn’t mean that I am Dad.

I know this is personal, I know you, my friends can’t fix it, but I swear on my grave, I am having pain in my hands today from Diabetic Neuropathy, my body aches from tugging to roll Al over and I just don’t need a headache on top from crying, so I wrote.

Al when he was little

 

Weekly Writing Challenge; Traces


http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/11/11/weekly-writing-challenge-traces/

#DP Challenge

Using the story behind the photo above as a jumping off point for this week’s writing challenge, we want you to talk about leaving your mark. For the fiction-minded, fill in the mystery behind this photograph. Who were these flowers left for? Was there a message included? Is there a mysterious reason why these flowers are covered in dust, but still appear so young?

 

Every night after the lights went low, busy fairies came alive. Bustling through the cemetery. Oh there was plenty to do. Everything was groomed but one potted plant. There was trimming of weeds, picking dead blooms, applying fresh fertilizer. Each night the glow of their shiny wands made a person feel like they were seeing the reflections of twinkling stars falling to the earth.

There were many fairies. It all started in the year of 1850 when the lady of the southern plantation took ill. Annabelle had been a beautiful lady.southern belle She was not only the wife of a rich husband but her heart was bigger than any pile of gold.

She had many slaves that worked for her. In fact this was one plantation where slaves begged for her attention so they may earn a chance to work inside for her.

While her husband was attending to business, Annabelle was helping where she saw fit.

She helped teach young mothers how to bathe their new babies. She mended holes in clothing for the farm hands. At the holidays she made each of them special plates of food and each of the children could count on getting a present of their very own.candy canes

When one of the children became ill she fetched him and brought him to the main house. Here the child was nursed back to health if at all possible.

But one day Annabelle felt ill. The house was quiet. She hadn’t been seen any where outside the house.

Buzzing went through the slave quarters as questions remained with no answers. That night Annabelle’s husband had come home.

He had a rough day. Sales were low. He was hungry and tired. He needed someone to talk to. He went straight to the drawing-room where he was hoping she would be.drawing room

The room was silent. He went through the rooms looking in the sleeping quarters  last.

There lay Annabelle ghostly white. He went to her and sat on the side of the bed. Speaking to her he received no response. He felt her forehead with the back of his palm.

She was burning up. He covered her gently and quickly exited their room and dashed out the main door. Hopping on his horse he took off for the five mile ride  to the doctor’s office. Beating on the door for what seemed minutes, the doctor opened it.

Explaining the symptoms he observed the doctor picked up his satchel and hat and readied his horse. The two rode hard back to the main house. Once inside the doctor performed an examination.

Nodding for her husband to follow him out into the hall, the doctor explained that his wife had little time. She had come down with the fever and there was no cure.

Her husband’s eyes filled with tears as he walked the doctor to the front door. Shaking his hand he watched until he could no longer see the horse and rider.

He went directly to the slave quarters. He ordered them to gather round. He explained his wife’s condition. He told them this was very contagious, but he needed the help. Which ones would be able to come to the main house and be of service?

Several  of the ladies raised their hands  in the air. He nodded at each one and they got their belongings and followed him back. For eight days the fever remained. Anabelle grew weaker and paler. Food was offered but not taken. Visitors stayed a way for fear of the sickness getting a hold of them.

On the eighth day Anabelle died. Her faithful followers remained behind to tend to her and the funeral but one by one each passed also.

Ever since the last one passed, the flowers that were left by Annabelle’s grieving husband had remained untouched on her grave. The fairies which were once her helpers in distress watched over her as she had once done for them.

To this day if you visit the old cemetery, and you sit quietly in the night, you can see the reflection of the twinkling stars falling to the earth.

evergreenflowers

Daily Prompt; Sad But True


http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/10/22/daily-prompt-harsh/, DP, Daily Post

Tell us about the harshest, most difficult to hear — but accurate — criticism you’e ever gotten. Does it still apply?

Photographers, artists, poets: show us HARSH.

This is just too weird. This prompt’s topic and a poem I wrote earlier today titled, All Out of Love,  http://terry1954.wordpress.com/2013/10/22/all-out-of-love/

It just is so darn freaky how the mind works. It is ticking even when I am not. After seeing this prompt and wondering why in the world I was writing poetry about my real mother, God only knew.

Before I started writing this I sat here a few minutes thinking. Looking at the date, the month and then I knew. It is almost my real mother’s birthday and also very close to the date of her death.

Oh don’t feel bad or say I am sorry. I heard she died from some stranger on Ancestor. com. I had forgotten that many moons ago I had went on there out of curiosity to see if her name may be there. When I found out there was a charge to belong, I chose instead to leave a comment asking about her.

And even this is plain stupid because I knew for years where she was. I had went to see her three different horrible times. I just wanted to bond so bad. After the last trip out to visit I put the pain and her out of my mind. She didn’t want me and she didn’t want Al.

What she did want was the babies she gave up. She didn’t like the adult part. I let her memories erase from my mind but every once in a while I would allow them to sneak back in and go over my past life.

After calling her with no answer and getting that familiar recording, the number has been changed, I thought that strange. She had lived in her home for years. Even when I tried to write to her, it came back undelivered. This is when I went on the man hunt and ended up at Ancestor.com

A stranger emailed me a few years later and said she had died. Well, that explains why the phone and address were no longer valid. I went through a mourning even though she didn’t deserve it and neither did I. I hurt and cried for a mother I never got to really know.

All she showed me was her bad side, and believe me it wasn’t pretty, and sometimes down right scary. She didn’t deserve us kids, but yet here today I was writing about her.

I had another mom who took care of Al and me since we were five and four. She and I never bonded but a lot of that was my fault. I was a messed up kid who probably didn’t feel like I belonged anywhere.

Life went on. She and I had many ups and downs but when I look back on my life she was the best mom I could have actually had. There was not much show of love, which is what I always have craved but she took good care of me and my brother.

But when I became a teenager I rebelled. I did silly things in my eyes but I knew I was hurting her feelings, but I, at that time, thought she was hurting me too.

One day she said the ultimate words. The words that sliced through my heart and play a big part of my lack of self-confidence today. She said she could not love me like she did her other daughter she and dad had. Wow, what a blow. The feelings I always thought were true were verbally confirmed.

I have forgiven her and I have forgiven myself for my teen years, but when the topic is brought up my insecurities rise quickly. I was a bad kid. I had two moms and neither of them really wanted me.

It is hard to rise above. I tell myself, she didn’t have to marry into a ready-made family. She could have walked a way, so I have to give credit to her for loving me as much as she did. She tried her best, but sad to say, when ever I think back to those times and that day and that one statement, I cry once again.

knifehttp://youtu.be/h8VGQTtENSs

 

Women Are Unique


Here is another story that ripped at my heart because I saw so many words in my own life.

I found this on my Face Book. I can not take any credit for this, I can only share.

“WHY WOMAN CRY”

A little boy asked his mother, “Why are you crying?” “Because I’m a woman,” she told him.

“I don’t understand,” he said. His Mom just hugged him and said, “And you never will.”

Later the little boy asked his father, “Why does mother seem to cry for no reason?”

“All women cry for no reason,” was all his dad could say.

The little boy grew up and became a man, still wondering why women cry.

Finally he put in a call to God. When God got on the phone, he asked,

“God, why do women cry so easily?”

God said, “When I made the woman she had to be special.

I made her shoulders strong enough to carry the weight of the world, yet gentle enough to give comfort.

I gave her an inner strength to endure childbirth and the rejection that many times comes from her children.

I gave her a hardness that allows her to keep going when everyone else gives up, and take care of her family through sickness and fatigue without complaining.

I gave her the sensitivity to love her children under any and all circumstances, even when her child has hurt her very badly.

I gave her strength to carry her husband through his faults and fashioned her from his rib to protect his heart.

I gave her wisdom to know that a good husband never hurts his wife, but sometimes tests her strengths and her resolve to stand beside him And finally, I gave her a tear to shed. This is hers exclusively to use whenever it is needed.”

“You see my son,” said God, “the beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair.

The beauty of a woman must be seen in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart the place where love resides.”

eye crying

Daily Prompt; Clean House


http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/09/29/daily-prompt-junk/, DP, Daily Prompt

Is there “junk” in your life? What kind? How do you get rid of it?

Photographers, artists, poets: show us JUNK.

Of course there is junk in my life. All kinds of junk. I have my remaining issues of never being good enough. This probably is my worst trash in the can that follows me every where. As of this summer with the help and wonderful comments from all of you I am beginning to heal.

I also carry the trash called fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of the dark. It started many moons ago when I slept in a bedroom that had a wall socket. Dad had taken it out and put up a ceiling light. He didn’t get around to plugging the hole for a while and I dreamed night after night big, bad snakes were coming out of that hole to get me.

I also had a less than perfect childhood, way back when I was still a toddler. The things that were allowed to take place with me still carry in my mind and when conditions are right, those thoughts will plummet to the surface once again until I beat them down.

I carry with me the fact that marriage doesn’t always last a life time. Scars from  hurtful words cause trust to be a high priority when I meet new men. I want a relationship, but this time I need to go nice and slow and develop it at a nice pace. So many guys don’t want this kind of turtle pace today. They want a rabbit pace and I just can’t do it.

I also carry too much blubber on my gut. Three kids, three layers of fat. It sounds nicer when I call it baby fat. The guilt follows me when I see a commercial with a girl in it with a perfect 10.

How do I get rid of it? I am not sure. I am better today at accepting what it was, was and what it is, is. Now that I am much older I think oh well, at least my legs don’t look like pork hocks. At least my facial skin bounces back. At least my boobs don’t fall to my navel.

If you want some laughter, make sure you click on the link below.

http://www.flashfunpages.com/saggy.html

Daily Prompt; Bookworms/ The Daily Post


http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/09/14/daily-prompt-bookworm/

Grab the nearest book. Open it and go to the tenth word. Do a Google Image Search of the word. Write about what the image brings to mind.

Photographers, artists, poets: show us BOOKS.

My tenth word I found was the word YOU.

The definition of You is;

the one or ones being addressed —used as the pronoun of the second person singular or plural in any grammatical relation except that of a possessive <you may sit in that chair> <you are my friends> <can I pour you a cup of tea> —used formerly only as a plural pronoun of the second person in the dative or accusative case as direct or indirect object of a verb or as object of a preposition — compare thee, thou, ye, your, yours

me, september two thousand thirteenThis is thee or me, a caregiver, sister, mother, writer and a romantic of life.

cameraThis is you, a way of expressing what you can not say in words. A way to transfer your inner feelings; being able to show others what you are thinking.

snow-falling3This is you. Watching your tiny, delicate, unique creation fall to the ground. It stirs my memories. I can visit Christmas‘s in the past. See my brother and sister and parents sitting around the Christmas tree. Mom and Dad‘s eyes twinkling as they get excited to see our faces as we open the gifts they/Santa brought. Cold days, ice-skating with Dad on the frozen pond. Smiles come forward as I remember the old, gray Ford truck hood being attached to Grandad‘s tractor and he is pulling us kids down the quiet country road. I can still hear the laughter from us as we live in the moment of fun.Children_on_old_wooden_sleds

baby dollYou, what I still dream about as an adult, hoping to own before I die. Memories of rocking you in my arms, taking you for a walk in your stroller. Feeding you, changing your clothes, all bring to life the mother instincts that I hold close to my heart.

cabinYou, what I also dream about. The biggest dream of all. I can see myself so perfectly. Sitting by the hearth, warming my hands. Rocking back and forth watching the deer run through the fields. Seeing Mama raccoon walking her babies. A nice pot of soup cooking over the fires. Living in nature, simplicity.

sexYou, whom I do not know your name but think of you with a smile. Waiting for the door to open when I will be romanced once again. My mind, body and soul will come alive and I will experience one more time what it is to feel love between that special soul mate in my life.snow-falling-on-woman

You, to be able to be free to speak my thoughts. To give myself permission to dream.

Al July 4thYou, who holds a special place in my heart. You enable me to bring forth the deepest parts of me that can show you how important you are to me. I want you to know that you will never walk this journey alone. I will be by your side holding your hand.

jesusheavenangels.jpgYou, who I live the way I do here on earth, because this is what you want. You, I look forward to meeting one day. You have forgiven me when no one else will. You have made me and I know you accept me for who I am.my kids when they were young

You who have given me a reason to wake up in the mornings. I have been able to pour out all of my love on you and you have accepted it. You who have given me laughter, joys and yes, sometimes tears. You, are an image of my own self.

ducksLastly you, my family of bloggers. You have been the sunshine in my life. You have shown me that we all need each other. My problems are no bigger than yours. We are more alike than not. When ever I need to feel less alone, I can turn to YOU.