This thirty-something is getting hitched in 48 Days!

As fall brings about change it seems fitting that I too am undergoing my own set of changes. In just a few weeks I will have a new last name and a new extended family. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think something like this would ever happen to me. I never thought I would meet someone who I wanted to be with forever, or he would want to be. This thirty-something is finally reaching a true milestone. I remember scrolling through Facebook a year or two ago and thinking when I saw all the engagement photos and married statuses “I truly am a late bloomer.” But, late bloomer or not I finally get to have my day in the sun. Canva - Leaves falling on ground

We chose fall, it happens to be my favorite season and neither of us enjoys sweating to death in fancy clothes. I was smart enough to start researching places early because fall, as I realized, is just as popular as spring now. After previewing numerous venues with escalating price tags, we chose a historic inn with a rustic feel. The ceremony will be held outside under a large tree in a meadow. We were told by the venue that the tree is known for its beautiful fall color so we knew we just had to do it. This is, of course, providing that New England weather does not throw us a curve ball. Naturally, we decided to do things slightly differently, so we have a bagpiper for ceremony music. We wanted people to walk away thinking this is not like this person or that one.

In true wedding hubbub style, we agonized over excruciating details like food, sides, table clothes, suit and shirt colors, hair, makeup, and flowers. But, as we are down to the very last we can now see all our efforts paying off. I would say here and now wedding planning is not for the faint of heart, nor is it for the broke. We made many sacrifices this past year and a half to get to this point. Our only hope and wish is that our family and friends attend our event and they truly enjoy their time. As it will be the first day we embark on the journey of life as one. ~

Country Girl moves to the City

This year has been a wild ride so far. There were times during it where I have to admit I wasn’t sure what was happening or how it was all going to work out.

I had been actively searching for a job throughout last year and the start of this one. It was depressing the amount of resumes I sent out with no response back. My decision to enroll in school again came after several years of debate. I wanted to make more money and I wanted to give myself skills that would give me the opportunities I was looking for. I also hoped it would show as a plus on my resume. Months of sending out resumes and barely getting any feedback led me to feel like failure. When I finally reached out to several staffing groups that is when I landed myself the job I am in now.

Not in a million years did I think I would finally be in a place where I have my own cubicle and my name plaque on the side. I take the train into town to work, which has been both exciting and claustrophobic at times. Each day I stare up at the tall buildings with awe on my face like a dope. It is crazy to admit but this is the kind of excitement I have been looking for. I can finally dress like a professional instead of the uniforms I had worn in the past or the really casual laid back atmosphere of the job before.

It happened so fast that I barely had time to take stock of all of the stuff I would need for the new job. I interviewed on a Friday and I got the call the following Monday.  My one year anniversary with my wonderful boyfriend was during the second week of my training. He had recently started a new job too and was looking forward to getting his career on the fast track himself. We both were starting out fresh, but together which made it not seem so foreboding. To celebrate our anniversary from one of the tallest buildings in the city was fabulous. But, to have him ask me to move in? Well, now that is even better.

I finally feel like my life is coming into its own. Perhaps this is what they mean when they say “good things come to those who wait.”

Top of the hub

Measurement and Scales

And I was weighed that day silently. I could tell from the look in your eyes that there was something wanting. That among all my freckles and hair, my graces, you had segmented me out into black and red lines. I was missing the parts that mattered most to you. I was absent of the things that you had hoped for. The things I did have, were… just…not enough. I was at a loss of course, because that phantom invisible scale had found me again. The one that everyone uses but doesn’t like to talk about at parties. I was ranked in each category unbeknownst to me, while dinner was being served. I was given a grade next to each on the list. But those numbers, they just didn’t add up for me. I had a remainder you see, I didn’t fit in those clean cut boxes. I spilled over and out of some and I barely filled the box on others. I was a recipe all gone wrong, and you were expecting a culinary masterpiece. I was a disappointment. The weights were heavy and not in my favor. The saddest part, the scales you use and those boxes you fill will never really equal the happiness you seek. But, yours truly with my remainders, my frizz, and my half full boxes will be all the better for it. Thats a sum you can’t figure with numbers and scales.

I apologize for my hiatus. Sometimes it is important to reflect and I needed time to do that.

Ghost of She

This poem is meant to pose the question to the reader.. In the face of loss and despair over the death of a loved one do we become ghosts? What I mean by that is emotionally does the living become trapped in the past?  As ghosts haunt and revisit the places they once left and never move on does the living in its own reality plane do the same? Can both be ghosts? This poem is meant to challenge the ideal that to be a ghost you must be dead… I don’t think you have to be dead to be a ghost.

Ghost of She

My ritual walk begins
Down the path we used to travel
Blustery winds blow the tricolored leaves
I march on past the old fence gate
Creaking it swings to and fro
Loud crunching of leaves
Begins to cancel out my thoughts
Reaching the end of the road
Street lights flicker and hum
Turning to the right, from memory
Pavement old from wear
Crumbles and crunches under my boots
Seeing my mark
I slow to a stop
The house is vacant
Full of dark emptiness
Standing under the elm tree
Leaning on its branches
I wait patiently —
Chimes from the church begin
Ringing in the hour
A soft light appears
Glowing the once bedroom window
The light travels slowly, dutifully
Down the long hallway
Spilling into the void living room
That’s when I see her
Brilliant and white
A delicate face stares out the window
I watch her a moment
Resist the urge to wave
Slowly her features fade
Luminosity dims and vanishes
My walk back is long
Contemplating the reasons why
We both are ghosts
One living and one dead
But of the two —
Who is haunting who?

Alzheimer’s (My Homage to The Wasteland)

   One of my favorite writers is T.S. Eliot. When I first read his classic The Waste Land I was stunned by the imagery and creativity that he used. The poem was like no other, and in my opinion it still is. His ability to collect thoughts, ideas, music, and memory in a written work made the piece a fascinating mosaic. In my personal experience, watching someone go through the maze of Alzheimer’s Disease is very much like The Waste Land. At first there is confusion and then a sense of clarity and understanding emerges.                            

   Part I

    She is scared

    She doesn’t know why

    So am I

    What lies in the shadows?

    I remember when she wasn’t so lost

    I wasn’t lost then

    I hold her hand in the dark

    But she can’t remember..

    

    “Did you get your money? I was always worried that you wouldn’t?”

     “Sometimes you just have to let them stew in their own juices,

     If that doesn’t take, then let them go.”

     I wonder if she will remember me?

     She forgets the names, faces, and places

     We are a collaboration of colors in her masterpiece

      I hope I am in green

      She is a shell of her former self

     And I grab on to her coat tails and go for the ride

    “How much is that doggy in the window? The one with the wagging tail?”

     “Maybe you should write a story about it, and then read it to me?

       I said “I don’t want to, it will take forever.”

       “We all don’t have forever.”

       “I love the holidays it’s the only time that I feel my family is together, whatever family I have left that is.”

        I watched her in the doorway

        Eyes lit with unshed tears

        The tree was up and lit like always

        The ornaments her children had made

        And her children’s children

Part II

“Christmas in Killarney where all the folks are home…..”

      “I am dreaming of a white Christmas, just like the ones we used to know

     Where the tree tops glisten and children listen….”

        She has her hand against her chest in a sigh

         It is the tree of strength

          It is grandpa

         It is a monument to our family

         It reminds me of the years past

          She exclaims at last

         “It is the most beautiful tree I have ever seen, Kaite.”

        Continue reading