a mother’s pride

thanks to people’s generosity, max’s friend has a round trip ticket for the holidays
top left (Christmas 2017, max’s beautiful sister Caroline holding Mojo the wiener dog and to the right – max)

bottom right (max’s 2017 high school graduation snap)

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their game

inspired this afternoon observing my mom and three friends enjoying a lighthearted game of canasta

butterfly lenses

butterfly lenses, in the The Paragon Journal – a thoughtful, artful, and lovely publication
this poem is based on a true childhood experience.
the first time I ever saw live crabs boiled I was with a friend’s family down the shore.
I was shocked when the crabs we were fishin’ out of the ocean were not bright red
this was the first and only time in my life I ever became homesick
“my mom and dad would never boil live creatures,” is what was running through my eleven-year-old mind
(cover and image belongs to Paragon Journal – I added cover blurb for WP image)
thank you

missing my sis

This is a photo of my lovely sister, Dolores. If it weren’t for her beautiful blue eyes watching over me growing up, I would’ve gotten into loads more trouble. I was quite the wiseass all the way into my 20’s. We had a lot of laughs together. I miss her dearly and wished she lived closer. 😘

madness, you see

I am quite capable of driving myself to madness
I do not require any help, most especially not yours
I do not need your over-involved directions
I can find the place blindfolded
You see, I have my map right here–
Tattooed on my palm with invisible inks
I have chosen the most expeditious travel plan–zigs and jags
I will not listen to your bullshit–straight lines and direct routes
You see, I am desperate to get there
I am sorry if I appear rude, but I cannot stand you anymore
I will not watch your tempting lips mouth what I do not want to hear
My friend, there is no time left for me–
for us

I really must reach madness
You see, it was long ago when I drove Him there
He is the only one who can tell me how to get back–
to the place I felt safest–
before I lost my mind
Trapped

did I mention

did I mention
my son is driving now
I watch him
everyday
from behind
he appears
every inch
a man
his shoulders
only slightly less wide
than the door frame
muscles blowing out
voice sincerely deep
yet
he is not a man
still closer to 15 than adulthood
joining gaggles of generation teXters
spreading their rubber wings
upon an overburdened world saturated with flashing macadam, blinding halogens
and
complicated souls perpetually racing their personal calendars
his young supple mind must remain
singular of purpose
leave all those fresh happenings
curbside
before leaping behind the velveteen wheel
yanking its quadruplet of synchronized tires into the fray
may each and every casual roll
be from point a to point b only
not a flippant roll of the dice
he is not a gambler
neither am I
this is the season
for believers
we are
both the same
singular of purpose
when singing and shining
in this glorious cacophony
of colored bells
and bursting evergreen stars

for those who celebrate this warm day of family and friends gathering (mostly for food;)) and collecting in peace, Happy Thanksgiving
for those who don’t, have a wonderful weekend – thank you
squanto-with-editshonoring all who have gone before