Releasing Some Steam?

I learned a very long time ago that if you don’t follow the rules, important people in your life will leave you.  Step on too many toes?  Make someone mad?  Spend too much money?  Become an inconvenience?  Yep, you guessed it:  they are gone.  Conditional love is what I have always thought it to be.  "I will love you only until I don’t" mantra.

I was watching this TV show the other night called Good Girls.  It really is a stupid show, but I am hooked because I keep thinking, “There is no way they will write the next episode.”  Then, the next episode airs.  In it, the younger sister is always dating these guys who are shifty or live in their car (because they don’t want responsibility) or just plain treat her badly.  She’s been going to this therapist.  He tells her the other day that she dates these kinds of men because as long as she does, she doesn’t have to worry about a genuine relationship.  She cannot get hurt.  Those weren’t his exact words, but that is what I gleaned from him.  She got it, too.  She was shocked.  Maybe even a little relieved.  Maybe with this new knowledge, she could help herself.  Maybe find true love.  I know it's just a show, but there is some truth in what he said.

I have been married for 28 years.  Just celebrated my wedding anniversary last week.  Did I choose him because he was safe?  I never rock the boat.  I do not put any demands on him.  I can count on one hand how many arguments we’ve had.  I am sure I am annoying because I am a perfectionist.  I am sure he would love to have a younger model, someone who would be considered the trophy wife, maybe.  We have lived in the same house with my mother-in-law for 15 years.  That’s more than half of our married life.  I have been playing second fiddle to her the entire time.  I cannot ever relax.  I always feel like "I've got company."  Deep down, I don't feel like I have my own home; we live with her.

Today, I was sitting at the kitchen table, grading papers on my computer, answering emails from students, letting the dogs outside when they asked.  My mother-in-law was in the her room, talking to a friend on the phone.  She's loud.  Door is open.  She says, “Yea, Tonya’s in the kitchen.  I can’t go out of my room and do any of the things I normally do.  She’s such an inconvenience.”  I really think that is the last straw.

I went into my room and finished grading papers.  My son texted me to find out where I was.  When I came out of my room, my son, my husband, and my mother-in-law were all in the kitchen, hanging out, making lunch, putting away dishes.  When they asked what I had been doing, I told them that I had gone to my room to work because I was such an inconvenience to Sue.  That woke everyone up!  Right, I am the rude one.  I am the one in whom my husband is disappointed—a new low, according to him.  I am the one who has decided I am done.  I won’t make him choose between me or his mother.  I will. 

My Sanctuary

During spring break, I visited a shop that was closing down.  This shop has been a huge part of my life and the community for almost 30 years.  It is sad to see them close their doors for the final time.

While perusing the remaining stock, I found these happy, bright red lanterns.  At first glance, I thought they were designed so that votive candles went inside so that you would get this soft glow and flickering of the flames.  However, once I got them home, I realized they were solar powered and had tiny bulbs inside.  They didn't work at first.  There was no sun until yesterday.

Last night, I opened my backdoor to find this calming scene.  There were pale blue reflections of butterflies floating on my table and the ground, even out into the grass.  The low lights filled the yard and invited us all to come sit in the swing.  This is my sanctuary.  Sitting in my swing under the wisteria and honeysuckle with the mimosa tree stretching its limbs over our heads, I can breathe.  It is peaceful being surrounded by the beauty God gives us every day.  Even with my weeping willow missing from my yard, all the green envelopes me and keeps me grounded.  These lanterns are a purchase I will enjoy for a long time.

The Clean Crew

The sun was shining today.  The first day in almost a week of rain.  Maybe our backyard will dry up a little and cease being a wet and slippery pit full of giant clay paw prints like molded dark grey Play-Doh.  After this week, the new grass is tall and in need of a mowing.  We can barely see Paddy when she walks outside.

By being in the sunlight, your body absorbs vitamins D.  Plus, my favorite place to be is in the swing under the blooming wisteria and the mimosa tree I planted when it was only four inches tall.  This day feels so alive and peaceful, full of promises.  Then, the wet soaks through my leggings!  Meat's soft slimy lips drape over my knee, coated with slobber and grass.  Eww!

It's time for a bath.  All of them are grungy and dirty so Jacob and I take towels and soap and brushes and the water hose to the driveway.  Meat's first.  Washing him is like washing a car.  He's huge--150 pounds!  He stands still getting scrubbed, dried.  Next is Mousse.  She usually gets really nervous and poops a lot during a bath at the groomers.  She didn't even pass gas today.  I think the cold water feels good to her.  Shadow, our old lady dog, is third in line.  She is shaking a little bit while the suds and cold water soak her down.  She is short, only one foot tall, so Jacob is the one scrubbing her clean.  Last but not least is shy, sweet Maggie.  My foster fail is quiet unless she is protecting me, which she does often.  During her bath, a lawn crew show up at the yard across the street.  Maggie maintains her good behavior but keeps an ever watchful eye on the extra noise.  Using the brushes and then the gloves that have bristles, we collect a huge pile of loose fur.  The birds will have something to use for nests.

Clean and tired, everyone is in the house, napping now.  The best smelling pups on the street.

Sounds of Silence

Maggie's soft snores

the dishwasher draining

Shadow's toenails click-clacking on the tile

the washing machine spinning

cardinals outside singing

pots clanging in the kitchen

children's laughter wafting through the window

leaves rustling in the wind

All are music to my ears in quiet moments
                     spent resting in the spring afternoon.

Short and Sweet

It feels like the first day of school is tomorrow.  I was feeling a little anxious earlier with a nauseous stomach and a small headache.  I revisited my Canvas page, added my video, and feel confident that everything is good-to-go.  There is no need to feel nervous.  Even if something goes wrong tomorrow, it will all work out in the end.  Students are sweet and are always helpful.  Everything will work out for the best!

Hidden Power

from Nikki Grimes's Ordinary Hazards:

"You know," she said, eyes firmly fixed
on the six o'clock news,
"Writers are a dime a dozen."
And just like that--bam!--
she slammed my heart
in the door of her words.

Sitting in the wooden desk in the front row right by the window, I listen as Mrs. Morgan, my English I teacher, explains that she is trying something new.  She had gone to a training and wants to see how we respond to an activity she learned there.  Leaning against the wall, just below the blackboard, is a large framed picture.  We cannot see the front since it is facing the wall.  Mrs. Morgan is asking us to take out some notebook paper, explaining we will have the entire class period to write.  She says we can write whatever we want, using the framed picture for inspiration.  Writing like this is a new technique she learned at the training.  She turns the picture around.

A typical framed picture that most people during this Spring of 1983 hang over the back of their sofa leans against the wall.  It is a country scene with a red barn on the left and green, rolling hills and large shade trees.  Was there a boy?  My memory is unclear about the boy, but I will forever remember what I wrote.  Studying the picture, a story develops in my mind.  I begin writing.  I am describing the scene, the adventure ahead, even the concerns of the day, but once I get to a certain point, I reveal to the reader that the barn is telling the story.  It is from the barn's perspective.  The bell rings so I hand Mrs. Morgan my writing and go to my next class.

Sometime in the next week, Mrs. Morgan gives the class some overall feedback on what she had gleaned from our writing.  Then, she asks me if she has my permission to keep my writing.  She loves how I used a creative perspective and wants to use it with future classes.  My heart swells!  I am validated as a writer.  

For the first time, I had written and received praise for writing from a trusted person, someone I admired.  Almost forty years have passed, but when I read Nikki Grimes's poem this morning, that moment in Mrs. Morgan's class is as fresh in my mind as if it happened just yesterday.

As I sit here in my recliner, writing for the 21st day of the Slice of Life writing challenge, I know that Mrs. Morgan could have easily crushed our spirits, expecting perfection with punctuation, verb tense, capitalization, spelling, everything.  I have that power as an LA teacher.  But not only do we as teachers have that power, many others do as well:  parents, friends.  A kind word goes a long way!  Building people--writers--up!  Who will you affect today?

Voila! Pie!

Voila!  Pie!

I have been doing double-duty lately.  This week, I started my own writing challenge for my students,  using our blog.  Only a portion of them have joined, but those who did have written from the heart.  It is my hope that the writing is helping them as much as it has me.