Category Archive:Hear Me

Fatty, Fatty, two by four
Can’t get through the kitchen door
Taunts given by long ago classmates
Sting my eyes
As sweat drips
And I ride away the pounds
Today
Sixty years later
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Trifecta’s Weekend Challenge: This weekend we’re asking for 33 of your own words that exorcise a demon. One of your own, or one from your imagination. Let it bleed on the page.

This is a community-judged challenge. So, if you read, and like, I would be honored to receive your vote. I would encourage you to read the other entries as well. There will only be 12 hours to vote, so watch that count-down clock over at Trifecta.
🙂

I show a good face to the world. My countenance is unmarred by stress and worry. Stoic is what my best friend in the world called me. “Barbie,” she said, “I had no clue you felt that way. Your face didn’t show it.”

Others say my face is telling; that they know exactly what I’m thinking by what goes across my visage. They see joy, sadness, distaste, distrust.

No, they only see what they want to see; a reflection of themselves. They see what they think they see and judge me, my actions, from their viewpoint.

The real me hurts.
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VV’s 100 word challenge is COUNTENANCE. That and her wise words about the recent goings on in the world – the need to take time, listen, to have a strong back and a soft heart made me even more introspective than I’ve been over the past week. And, that is saying something.

My cousin writes on fb often about John Lennon – his birthday – the day he died – she misses him.

She loves the song Imagine that he sang.

Imagine all the people living in peace

What a world that would be, right? In the years I have lived on this big blue marble there have been miracles of life, technology, growth. There have been years of miseries; wars, famines, disasters, and lately killings after killings . . . senseless all.

I will name no names here. I will give no uplifting of such crazed warmongers.

I will continue to pray for a better world for my children’s children and theirs beyond. I will continue to pray for the blessings from a Father in whom I truly believe. I will pray for understanding . . . or at least peace in my misunderstanding. I will pray.

You, you may say
I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one
I hope some day you’ll join us
And the world will be as one

18 years old and a Minor Consuming charge filed . . . just one among many listed in the local paper. Each one brings a mental, if not audible, sigh. But one more than the rest, because I know this particular 18 year old. This teen is someone treated as family by all of us – loved by all of us.

The legal charges do not change that love, but they do hurt the heart.

Our state, like most, is tough on drunk drivers: licenses get taken away; special insurance needs to be purchased at a very high cost; names are in the paper causing embarrassment; substance abuse treatment of some sort is often ordered; jobs often lost.

Adults aren’t the only ones facing these consequences. Minors, while treated in a slightly different manner, must also face some sort of consequence.

Up front I will say this – I had my first drink as a minor. In fact, I had several. However, I did not get my drivers’ license until I was 21 (there was no need in a big city with abundant public transportation). I was never one to drink and drive (whether under age or not). We were blessed in those times hubbymoose chose to drive – we are here, safe and sound in our 60’s.

Hubbymoose stopped drinking some 30 years ago. I had my last drink about 20 years ago. We were casual drinkers and decided we did not want to become more than that – in fact did not need to be that. We do not feel we are better than anyone else who chooses to drink. We all make choices.

However, we tried to teach our daughters to be responsible – to call us if they needed a ride (no questions asked) – to please never to drive while under the influence. We did tell them that if they were arrested we would not bail until the next day, but we could still be called.

Our daughters have told their young’uns the same. The grands know that they can call us as well.

In the meantime, my heart hurts for this one – I’m glad nobody was hurt. Our love is still there – and the phone numbers are still the same and open.

The ants go marching two by two – hurrah, hurrah!

Over and over and over again, Gina sang tunelessly. Greg grabbed his head and moaned. Reaching out with his left hand, he touched her shoulder, stopping her forward progress.

“Gina, please stop. Daddy has a headache.”

He felt a flush of regret as Gina began to rock side to side.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. I know you like that song. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Let’s go on home now.”

Gina shrugged and turned with Greg towards the crosswalk. At the corner she stopped and rocked again while they waited for traffic. Greg gasped as Gina broke away and darted through the traffic to the other side of the street.

“Gina, sweetie, what in the world? You scared, Daddy, kiddo. What . . .?”

She stood and rocked back and forth and began to hum another tune, “I love you truly . . .”

Greg looked down to see the tiles and what he’d forgotten was there; a message from Gina’s mom, his life partner. It was the last thing she had done before the accident, laying that tile with a lasting message for them: “Hi, I’m _________________ and I’m completely in love with you.”

He touched his daughter’s shoulder. Together they rocked and hummed, “I love you truly, truly, dear.”
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After a group participation challenge earlier in the week, the weekend Trifextra challenge was to write 33-333 words about these three photos:

photos are from the trifecta site.