The Need to Be...

Oh, the words have been within me, begging to get out, but I've had to hush them. So garbled and beyond recognition to even me, to spill them out would have been foreign...

No one would have understood. Least of all, me.

So, as I sit here, I realize our lives are no more than chapters...

Composing one big book at the end.

I've been with those as their books came to completion...

Sometimes, even, in the middle of the story...

Leaving us begging for more.

My story, as of today, is yet unfinished.

I await the ending of this chapter so that I can move on to the good part of the book, but like a dutiful reader...

I will read this part, as difficult and laborious as it is, knowing that when it's over, I'll have forgotten most of it, so that I can get to the part where the story starts to turn.

All the while knowing that the parts that irritate me today are the parts that I will miss tomorrow.

I am still working at making my life to be an old friend I find in a book...

That I could sit on the back porch swing and read over and over and over again.

It still hasn't happened, but I know that one day it will.

My chapters unfold...

I find myself looking back to those chapters when my children were young and I chased them and bathed them and laughed with them and loved them and their chubby little faces, dirty from whatever adventure had captivated them on that day...

And, I'm longing to get to the part in the story where I find resolution and my children are grown and happy and settled and their lives are nothing short of greatness and happiness.

My mother knows how I feel.

She's still reading that same part of her life's book.

I await the part of my story where I have it all resolved.

That I am settled.

And, at long last...

Happy.

In every sense of the word.

Secure.

Nothing in the world can touch me.

It hasn't happened yet.

And, people, I'm not ready to stop reading.

I'll continue this story on and on and on.

Because, as sure as there will be a tomorrow...

There is an ending.

It was written for me before I was even born upon this earth.

And, honestly, knowing that Someone...

The One who created me...

Knows how this story ends...

Is enough for me.

For right now, I am all that I need to be.

Our Home, Louisiana...

Special thanks to the talented Jep Epstein for articulating what all of us felt, but none of us could articulate, five years ago.

Anais Nin once said, "The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say." Mr. Epstein did that, seemingly effortlessly, for the citizens of Louisiana with this most beautiful song...

Five years ago, the much anticipated Hurricane Katrina came ashore, and at the time, none of us could have predicted the destruction that little bitch would leave behind.

And, I remember...

I was at Outback with a group of friends, about to go meet my children for a Bowling for Soup concert at the Riverfront Center here at home.

I was newly separated; quite intrigued with a man I should have never even tangled with, and more worried about what was going on in my little corner of paradise than what was going on in the gulf.

Hurricanes...

Yeah, we'd had 'em.

But usually when they got this far inland, they were little more than bad thunderstorms with a chance of tornadoes...

We'd lived with it all our lives...

No big deal.

New Orleans would live...

It always did.

The world worried and waited, and we just lived on, waiting for tomorrow.

Although I wasn't worried, I wasn't stupid, either...

I made arrangements for my children to stay with their father, and then I did what any woman separated from her husband would do at the hint of danger...

I went home.

To my husband.

His job as a catastrophe adjuster dictated we would stay glued to The Weather Channel from Sunday afternoon until the storm had passed to see where he would be working next...

None of us could have guessed that aftermath.

None. of. us.

I awoke on Monday morning to the sight of Matt Lauer standing in the middle of New Orleans, ankle deep in water, and thought, "What? The storm's been gone nearly 24 hours, and New Orleans made it. I don't get it."

I woke my husband up with a, "Get up. You're not gonna believe this."

For three days we watched as waters rose...

And people tried to flee...

Sending messages on rooftops, overpasses and by boat...

That people needed help.

Our people were dying...

Had died...

Our home was slipping away.

For that brief moment in time, two people who were worlds apart in their idiology and beliefs had to cling to one another, for at that time...

Nothing else made sense.

I remember dreaming of people walking in water at night as I tried to sleep...

I remember dreaming of people screaming at the sight of their loved ones slipping away...

I remember waking up to realize I was only dreaming what was going on in real life...

And, I remember the pain.

Oh, how I remember that pain.

Should you ever doubt what is important, just imagine it being ripped away.

Five years ago, my friends, I realized I was home.

The very place I had fought against was home...

And, there was no other place on earth I'd rather be.

Louisiana...

This is our home.

I Believe...

I'm a small town girl. You all know this, and I've never kept it a secret.

As much as I have fought this place, it is my home. I love it, and anyone that knows me, knows that I wouldn't have it any other way.

The fact that everyone here knows me and can talk against me are the exact comforts I find when I realize that I am here...

There is security in knowing everyone around you...

Enemy, friend...Whichever...

If you live in my town, I know you...

And I know who you are.

And I know in which category you belong.

In all actuality, and even though I try to present myself as if I'm above it, I feel sorry for those who aren't fortunate enough to have my life.

To me, life is beautiful...

My mistakes are mine...

My good choices are mine...

And, no one else can take credit for it.

The fact is this: I am happy here.

I never wanted it, and really thought my branches were stretching farther that my roots...

But at the end of the day...

My roots are embedded far more further than my branches will ever spread...

I love life simple.

I believe in hard work and friendship and family...

I believe that home is where your heart is.

And...

My heart is here.

You can find my heart in a little man in a wheelchair living in a nursing home less than a mile from where I grew up...

You can find my heart in a little old woman that complains too much, whines too much and fusses too much, but all the while, worrying about that little man in the wheelchair.

You can find my heart in a young adult girl who has decided, after all these years, to return to college...

You can find my heart in a young man that doesn't even know where he's going, but knows his future starts at the beginning of September.

You can find my heart in a man that lives, quite simply, just a few miles from here that believes in his daughters...his grandson...his job...and that something better's coming.

Yes, my friends, after all this time...

I believe.

Living Inside...

"Our fingerprints never fade from the lives we touch."

- From the movie "Remember Me"

This quote jumped off the television screen, planting itself in my brain, moving me to a higher level of self-examination. I searched in ernest for proper credit, and after finding none, realized this golden nugget must be the gift of a screen writer somewhere in this world that didn't, nor will they ever, get the recognition warranted for revealing, what I believed to be, the most important lesson any of us could learn in life.

The last couple weeks have found me taking a closer look inward, maybe even on a more intense level than ever before. Those of you who've been on this journey of self-discovery with me over the last five years will understand the magnitude of that statement.

This time...

It's different.

No more am I beating myself up for the choices I either made or failed to make...

I don't regret my life well-lived...

Nor the people I have loved...

Nor the ones I have let go.

No, friends, today, I am pleased with me.

I am where I need to be and doing the things I need to do.

There's a satisfaction in living life simple and being happy with where you are...

Struggling to understand, and one day, as if by magic, realizing that you've had the answers all along.

In one defining moment...

One look...

One tiny little look at someone across a room...

Looking at them looking at someone you love...

With whom they have no connection except that they are part of you...

When you realize that you are alright.

That the journey may have been long...

There may have been tears...

There may have been troubles...

But it all led you today.

And, today is perfect.

One look, and that fingerprint is there.

It could be taken away tomorrow...

But that print is there now, and will never fade.

It's living inside.

Heavenly Day...

As I lie in the bed and watch the shadows on my bedroom wall announce the sun's sleepy ascent into the sky, I can feel the softness of my favorite sheets scented with their fresh from the dryer perfection, and my senses are at a heightened plane of awareness.

I think for a second about my strong believe that my bed is the most comfortable, cozy place on the planet, and as I yawn and glance over, my lips curl into a grin when I see the eyes of the two beautiful creatures sprawled out beside me look over to wish me good morning.

Somehow, those two seem to know when I'm just stirring...

And, when it's official, we are starting our day.

This morning; however, with all my intent on greeting the world, I lie there...

Just thinking about how life is a most painfully beautiful ride and that, no matter what may have ever happened, or what may ever happen, that for this particular moment in time...

Life is perfect.

My parents are with me...

My children are safe...

My home is my haven.

Today, I will see the one who makes me smile...

And, everyone I love is accounted for.

Yes, if only for this moment, today seems to be a heavenly day.

I Wish I Could be There...

I awoke from a most deep and peaceful sleep, only to argue with the sun beginning to pry its way into my bedroom. As I realized my surroundings, I knew it was Sunday and Father's Day.

I didn't even think.

I rolled from the bed, went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth.

I hurriedly dressed and jumped into my car.

I had a destination in mind...

I whipped into that drive-thru at 6:30 in the morning and ordered donuts and milk.

As I continued on my journey, it occurred to me that they may not even let me in...

Surely, there must be rules about visiting times, but I had never seen it, so...

I continued on.

I had my donuts and my milk and I just kept driving.

I arrived just before full daylight and found the place asleep.

As I walked back into the "C Wing", I wondered if I had made a huge mistake.

He may be sleeping...

He may be in the tub...

He may have been 10,000 things, and none of them included me.

Instead, what I found was his devoted aide sitting beside him, just chatting with him.

I insisted that she not leave, but with my being there, she wanted me to visit and she left.

There he was...

The most beautiful man on earth...

Lying there, half asleep.

"Whatcha' doin', PawPaw?" I quizzed him.

I knew the answer. I was just waiting on him to say it.

"Not much. Just sittin' on my can-can. It's a good job, but it doesn't pay too much."

"Yeah, but there's job security in that, right?" I asked him.

"There sh-ore is that, baby."

And, so, he and I sat and talked as the rest of the world slept.

We talked about the peach cobbler I was making that day, and he told me to put an egg in the batter if I wanted it fluffy...

But to leave it out if I didn't.

Somewhere in the conversation, he asked me, "How is your sunburn, baby?"

"Ah, it's getting better. I'm pretty good now, PawPaw."

"Your mama didn't even tell me you had that until yesterday," he said, frustrated.

"Well, I wasn't sick. I was just miserable for a day. I'm fine now."

"I know!, he exclaimed, "But if she'd told me sooner, I could have told you how to get rid of it."

He went on to tell me that mouthwash will cure a sunburn in a second. Next time, I should remember to put mouthwash on my burn.

"I'll do that, Pop." I assured him, and he was ok with that.

We sat in a comfortable silence for a second, when he told me, "I want to get me about a pound of lead and a line of fishing wire."

"You do? Why?" I asked.

"I'm thinking that if I could make a thousand pieces of pounded lead and attach them to string I could sell them over the internet..." He trailed for a second.

"The internet? How much does that cost?" He quizzed.

"Well, it's really free." I told him.

Then I continued on, "Unless you're selling something. Then, I think EBay will let you sell things for a cut. Why?"

"Because if I can pound out 1,000 pieces of lead and attach them to strings to cure poison ivy, and if we sold them at $100 each, that's $100,000."

"Your math is good, PawPaw. That is right." I told him.

"That's what I thought." He was satisfied with my answer.

His breakfast came in, and he and I discussed everything he could imagine as I fed him eggs and bacon.

I left, promising I'd get him a piece of peach cobbler up there the next day...

And, I did just that.

I sent it with my mother on Tuesday...

I miss him.

His mind, at one time so quick and sure, is today...

Still quick and sure...

Just not always right.

It's ok.

I always let him be right.

It's just easier, and in his mind, when I ask him advice...

He is still being my dad.

Yesterday, I ran by to see him in all the confusion with my mother.

I realized he'd been by himself for two days, and my heart was breaking at the thought.

I ran down the hall of the nursing home to find him...

And, there he was...

At the patient telephone...

Leaving a message for my mother.

Telling her, "I guess you must be somewhere, so call me later."

I sneaked up behind him, "Hey, sweetheart!"

"Come around here and let me look at you," he commanded.

I complied.

Before I could say anything, he went on, "I was about to call you and tell you that on that cobbler, if you're using fresh peaches, you need to add a cup of sugar to them and boil them for a minute."

I giggled.

"It was a little tart, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, but you'll do better next time."

He wishes he could be there...

But he can't.

Yeah, PawPaw, about yay big, and around and around and around...

I Miss My Mama...

My phone rang this morning before 7. Not strange at all, until a check of the caller id told me it was my Mother.

She never calls that early. As ever, when a call comes in from her number at an odd hour, I held my breath, and said a faint, "Hello," into the receiver, awaiting news on my dad.

She sounded horrible. She was so terribly congested. She was coughing and sounded miserable.

When I realized she was calling me to tell me she needed ice water, a task that could have easily been completed by one of my sisters living far closer to her than me, if she really was feeling too badly to even get up to go to the kitchen, I drove right over.

When I walked in, she looked ok. I knew she was feeling really badly, but she looked all-in-all, alright.

I got her ice water and began cooking her some breakfast.

She sat back with her feast, little more than picking at it...

She just didn't feel good.

I got busy doing a few things around the house waiting on her to finish breakfast, and when I had done all the dishes I could do, washed all the clothes I could wash and taken the trash to the street, I went in to find her still working on her eggs and grits.

Her face had started to look a little grey, but she was still working on her breakfast.

I really started to worry about my mother. I've worried over her in the past, but this morning, I was seriously worried about the mortality of my mother for the first time in my life.

I knew I was over-reacting, but I was scared.

In fact, I was more than scared...

I was terrified I was losing my mother.

In those seconds, even though she was right there with me, I began to miss my mother.

I thought about all she had sacrificed for my brother and my sisters and me...

I thought about her love for me...

That little woman loves me more than anyone in this world, and for no reason other than I am her daughter.

She thinks I'm a computer expert...

Because she came to my house one night and saw my MySpace page...

She began to tell everyone that would listen that, "Pam can build websites. On the internet!"

She has always thought I was far more beautiful, more kind, more intelligent and more talented than I have ever been.

She has always been my number one fan.

She's aging now, and there are times I want the advice of mother before I want the advice of anyone else on this earth...

And, yet, I cannot go to her.

If I am sick, I don't let her know...

For she can do nothing about it.

If I'm hurting, I can't share it with her...

Because it would hurt her more.

Sometimes, I am so lonesome for my Mama, my heart hurts.

Out of nowhere, she asked me, "Pam, do you know who I was missing so bad last night?"

"Sure don't, Mama. Who were you missing?"

"My mama. I could feel my mama around me. I wanted my mama. I missed my mama."

Hot tears came from the back of my eyes, as I replied, "I bet you were."

"I was. It was like she was right here. I could feel her. She was trying to make me better. Mama can always fix everything."

A grin of understanding stretched across my face...

There were to two of us...

For completely separate reasons...

Experiencing the exact same emotion.

Yeah, Mama, I understand.

I sometimes miss my mama, too.

Our Home, Louisiana...

I have been thinking for the past couple of weeks...

Sad, but not really knowing why...

Homesick, and yet, I am home.

Ever so proud, and yet, unable to articulate why.

The truth, people, is I am frightened out of my mind.

Everything I call home is threatened...

Oil is spilling out into our waters at a speed that no one can even calculate...

Our fishermen cannot fish...

Our oilfield workers cannot work...

So many families watching...

Praying...

Waiting...

Hoping for the best.

And, yet, my heart hurts for those 11 families that have given up the watching...

Praying...

Waiting...

Hoping for the best.

May God be with them.

May God grant them peace.

May God grant them speed.

The sad reality is those men are not coming back.

Life, as those families know it, is no more.

And, I am sad.

I have been that wife waiting on news after the flash on the television that something terrible has happened.

I have been that mother anxiously waiting and all the while, not allowing the children to know you are waiting on the news that Daddy won't be making it home...

I have been that family that all the world proclaims as awful because we are dependent upon fossil fuel to...

Clothe our children...

Feed our children...

Shelter our children.

Shame on the public for condemning a man for making a living for his family...

Shame on them.

As ever, Louisiana, the government and the fat oil cats make light of our plight.

I was in the grocery store this week, and I cannot even begin to explain to you what it felt like as I passed the seafood aisle and saw...

No shrimp...

No oysters...

No fresh Gulf seafood at all.

Everything in that store that identified "home" as "home" was not there.

I thought about those families, too.

I thought about the hopelessness that must be in those homes today...

I thought about how it was to be young and raising children, and knowing no other way of doing it...

And, I thought about not knowing when it may end.

Shame on those who attend sporting events, instead of trying to clean up their own mess they've made of our land...

Shame on them.

Once again, Louisiana, we are being called upon to pick ourselves up; dust ourselves off and start all over again.

And, I think of a tiny little boutique sitting on Jackson Street in my little town of Alexandria, Louisiana...

And, two children visiting their aunt that formulated a plan...

Lemonaid for the Gulf...

All proceeds going to clean the brown pelican...

Our state bird...

And, how their aunt, realizing their quest, put her own business on hold and took on a project that, even she, could not have imagined the magnitude...

And, I am refreshed and renewed.

This is our love...

This is our life...

This is our home...

Louisiana.

This is our day...

Come what may...

This is our home.

Louisiana...

It wasn't until about 5 years ago I realized the weight of my heritage...

Nothing like a disaster to make you realize what's important in life...

In love...

In your soul, right?

I spent my first 40 or so years denying what was within me, acting as though none of it mattered.

The country said we were next to dead last, so we must be, right?

Oh, but how this country was wrong.

So much is right with where I live...

Far more is right than could ever be wrong.

We've seen our share of disaster...

And we've always persevered.

1927 couldn't drown us...

A bitch named Katrina tried, too...

And she failed.

So, now you tell me there's an oil spill that threatens us.

Yeah, it can threaten...

However, it won't win.

No one ever does.

Our people are stronger than anything that gets in our way.

We'll make a new plan.

We always do.

Yeah, people, this state runs so deeply in my veins that even should I try to cut it out...

I'll still bleed its soul.

It's been there all along.

I only wish I had realized the depth of that meaning...

As I was fighting against it.

You can not win against Louisiana.

You may get us down, but you can never get us out.

We'll rise up stronger than we were before...

Because we know no other way to be.

It is in us all...

The spirit...

The soul...

The food...

The music...

Everything that makes us just a cut above the rest.

Ah, Louisiana...

They're trying to wash us away.

But we hold strong.

"Daddy, Play Number 4!"

"Daddy, play number 4!"

Each time his dad was anywhere near the cd player, we heard that command.

Don't know why, but he loved it...

His 4 year-old frame, stout and chubby and beautiful, for whatever reason, felt the words to this song.

The boy was born with the heart of his mother.

Some would call it his biggest asset...

Some would call it his downfall.

I, personally, would call it one of the biggest gifts of my lifetime.

To literally be able to see yourself growing inside of another human being has to be the most amazing experience anyone could ever hope to see.

I know that boy's heart.

He knows mine.

He's Mama's boy.

I can only hope I've done him justice.

Tomorrow, he turns eighteen.

Yes, we've climbed the mountains...

We've fought...

We've laughed...

We've cried...

We've failed...

We've persevered.

Almost 18 years ago to this very second, I began to feel the first pains of labor...

Half believing it...

Half believing I had simply talked myself into feeling it...

The anticipation of making his acquaintance grew.

I'll never forget climbing into bed that night and holding my hand on my belly as I felt that last pain as I drifted off.

Nor will I forget opening my eyes at 3 the next morning and waiting on the next pain just to be sure it was real and not imagined.

They had told us he was a girl.

For all those months, I had been awaiting the arrival of a boy only to have all my hopes dashed by the image coming through the sonogram.

He came into the world at 1:03 p.m. on Wednesday, June 10, 1992.

The sonogram was ever so wrong.

The boy I had dreamt of was here.

Covered in jet black hair from his head to his toes, he was exactly what I had been waiting on.

Oh my God, people, the absolute honor of watching that child grow has been one I did not deserve...

I did not earn it.

It was granted to me.

I am ever so humbled...

I am ever so grateful...

I am ever so proud to be his mother.

Tomorrow, he becomes what society considers a man.

To me, he is, and always will be, my baby boy.

The one I will forever hear saying, "Daddy, play number 4!"

If You're Reading This...

"True heroism is remarkably sober, very undramatic. It is not the urge to surpass all others at whatever cost, but the urge to serve others at whatever cost."

- Arthur Ashe

Louisiana Army National Guard

Major Ronald "Wayne" Culver, Jr.

Husband, Father, Son, Brother, Nephew, Cousin, Neighbor, Friend...

HERO.

Lay down his life May 24, 2010 in Iraq in the name of freedom.

United States Army

Spc. Joshua Tomlinson

(Promoted to Sargeant Posthumously)

Husband, Son, Grandson, Brother, Cousin, Nephew, Friend...
HERO.

Lay down his life May 18, 2010 in Afghanistan in the name of freedom.

I know neither of these two men...

I never had the honor of meeting them...

Shaking their hand...

Or wishing them Godspeed as they left behind all they loved and cherised to go fight a war which was much bigger than either of them.

Major Culver is just about my age with children younger than mine.

Sgt. Tomlinson could be my son.

I would imagine on the days of their separate departures their hearts were full of worry over the families they were leaving behind, counting the seconds until they would see them again.

I can imagine they both saw horror over there that you and I cannot even fathom.

I can imagine there were nights with no sleep when the sand threatened to consume them, the immeasurable heat of the desert ready to overtake them at any second.

And, each second of each day, I am sure they thought of home.

They both returned home this week.

I cannot imagine believing in freedom for others as much as believing in freedom for myself...

I cannot imagine fighting for the rights of children on foreign soil as hard as I fight for my the rights of my own...

I cannot imagine the heart of a soldier.

Willing to live and willing to die for those who, sometimes, are the very people fighting against you.

But you continue to fight, believing the heart of the human condition is bigger than the human condition.

How beautiful are the hearts and souls of our men and women fighting so that we can have the right to speak out against their very mission...

Giving us the right to dishonor everything that they honor...

Devaluing their values.

Willing to pay the ultimate price for freedom for all men.

Freedom isn't free, my friends.

Just this week it cost us two of the finest.

Major Culver and Sgt. Tomlinson, I take this opportunity to say thank you.

May your lights continue to shine...

May your mission be accomplished...

May one day all this world live in freedom.

And, when that day comes, the two of you, as well as all those who have gone before you and those who go after you in the name of liberty, will be the victors.

You two have touched me this week.

I just wanted you to know that...

If you're reading this.

To Jesse on His Graduation Day

My friend, Gracie, is borrowing my blog space today so that she can send her son a special message. It's from her heart.

Love to Jesse, Gracie and Micki today and everyday!







Dear Jesse,

For all your years of life, I have been preparing you for this day. Tonight, we will all watch with hearts full as you accept your high school diploma.

I'm not sure, son, you realize how proud of you I am. I don't know that I can find the words to even tell you.

I suppose one day you will understand as you get to experience graduation from the stands as the parent, instead of the football field as a student. When that day comes, still, I will be there with you. Whether it be in body, or in spirit, on that day, I want you to remember I am just as close then as I am right now.

Jesse, through all my struggles as a single mother, you and your sister have been the reason I refused to give up. When I was so tired I thought I couldn't carry on, I'd catch a glimpse of your grin and your sisters and I would remember what I was working for. When I was overcome, I'd walk into your rooms and see your sweet, sleeping faces and would find the resolve to get up the next day and start all over again.

Many times during your school days, I know you, too, felt like giving up. Teachers would discourage you; principals would discourage you. At times, I know I felt the world was placing too much responsibility on you. I can only imagine how it made you feel.

Somewhere between the madness and the sadness, my boy, you found a way to persevere.

When the world told you you couldn't, you told them to watch you do it.

When the world told you it would never happen, you made it happen.

When the world told you not to try, you became more determined.

That fighting spirit that lives in you is as strong as your loving spirit, Jesse.

Today, you prove them all wrong. Again.

You are such a good man, son. You have grown into more of a man than I hoped you would be all those years ago when you and I sat together as I rocked you to sleep.

Thank you for being my special gift to the world.

Today, as I release you to take your first steps as a man, I have no doubt you will make your mark. You will leave this world in better shape than you found it. It will be a better world because you are here.

I love you, son.

Moreturntee,
Mom

Grandpa Told Me So...

"Try not to become a man of success, but rather try to become a man of value." ~Albert Einstein

I can still see him...

Black haired and bright eyed and beautiful sitting on his lap...

Kicked back in the recliner, he and his PawPaw spent most every Sunday afternoon from the day the boy was born until that dreaded day he became too much for Paw Paw to handle.

From that point on, he had to take a seat at the end of the sofa.

Mind you, that seat was, and still is, closest to Paw Paw's recliner.

Today, that recliner sits alone, the days of Paw Paw filing it, becoming a memory.

When I tell you I was literally forced to fight the child when it was time to leave is putting it mildly...

The boy didn't want to come home.

Somewhere, in his little three year old mind, Paw Paw WAS home...

His dad and I were just a little irritation he had to endure until it was time to go back to my parents.

It was in that recliner they solved the worlds problems...

Talked about which teams were going to the Superbowl...

What they wanted to eat for supper...

About the love of Jesus...

And, how to repair a lawnmower.

His eyes were always captivated by the Mason ring on his Paw Paw's right hand.

"Paw Paw, can I wear your ring?," he'd ask each time.

"No, baby, this ring is too big for you. I can't let you lose it. I've got plans for this ring one day," was always the usual reply.

"It sure is pretty, Paw Paw," he'd say in amazement.

"You like that ring, baby?"

"I sure do."

"One day, I'll let you wear it. But, not today, ok?"

Of course, he NEVER argued with his Paw Paw and just,somehow, seemed to understand, and would let it go.

Until the next time.

The love between that boy and that little old man amazes me.

The two of them, honestly, can be the two most stubborn people in the world.

Somehow, they just bring out the best in each other.

I watched the boy tear up in frustration five years ago when I had to sit him down and teach him two new words...

Parkinson's Disease.

Over the months it took us to accept, I watch Paw Paw's "baby" become his Paw Paw's "buddy".

They faced the illness together, the two of them...

The boy turning into Paw Paw's legs...

And eyes...

And hands.

Yes, that recliner full of all the memories sits empty today.

Its former occupant now resides down the street with 109 of the most beautiful people on earth.

It was there we found my mother today to celebrate Mothers Day.

As we walked with them back to Paw Paw's room after lunch, a moment of realization hit him...

The boy and his sister stayed behind, as Grandma and I were sent to the house on a mission and dared not return until it was complete.

When we got back, precious cargo in hand, I called the two of them from the room, as Grandma entered to deliver the package.

As we walked back in, the boy heard these words, "So, big week this week, huh?"

"Yes, sir." The boy answered.

As he handed the boy a little red velvet bag, his Paw Paw said to him, "Well, let's see if this is big enough to make it too big, how 'bout it?"

I saw that boys eyes squint, half-confused, half-knowing in disbelief, as he reached for the bag and answered him, "Ok."

As he opened the bag, frantic to get the tissue paper out of his way, he could only stare at it as he pulled up a golden ring with a red stone with the letter "G" inscribed in gold.

"Oh, Paw Paw, thank you. It's perfect."

"I told you I had plans for that ring, didn't I, son?"

"Yes, sir, you sure did," He responded through teary eyes.

We all knew he had big plans...

Grandpa told us so.

Find Your Wings...

Tomorrow morning at approximately 5:59 a.m., I will walk up the stairs, turn on the upstairs hall light, open his door, peek into his room, and for the last time, I will say, "6 o'clock, baby. Time to wake up. You have to go to school."

That thought has been swirling through my mind all day today, and I'm not sure which is more bittersweet to me...

The first time I ever uttered those words, as I planned to release my baby on a world far bigger than he...

Or the last time I'll ever utter those words, as I release my baby on a world far bigger than he.

The baby boy who was placed into my arms all those years ago; a head full of jet black hair, filled with the promises of all life's possibilities stands before me today...

A man with a head full of jet black hair, filled the promises of all life's possibilities.

The world sees a dapper, handsome, strapping being standing over six feet tall, and...

I see my sweet chubby ball of wonder, full of laughter and sweetness and an innocense beyond measure...

I see the one I had to sit in the kitchen floor with his breakfast and wait on him to crawl over to take a bite before moving on to his next momentary adventure...

The one I watched capture the hearts of everyone around him because to be near him, was to be entranced...

He was a man's man, even at the age of 3...

Sitting at his place at the breakfast bar, trying to drink coffee with his Uncle Paul, because "working men" drink coffee...

And making the most awful of all faces when it touched his lips, because, try as he might...

He just didn't have a taste for it.

I see the little boy asking his uncle in amazement, "Uncle Smitty, you're a real cowboy, aren't you?"

And, grinning from ear-to-ear when his uncle let him know that he lived in Texas, and all real cowboys come from Texas.

At one time, he was gonna "put on his light-up shoes and run all the way to Texas".

I see that little boy that worked so hard to keep up with his PawPaw, step for step...

Who, just today, slowed his steps down a bit so his PawPaw could keep up with him...

As he turned to his PawPaw and asked him if he'd be his special guest on Tuesday to watch him walk across the field and claim his diploma.

I see so much when I look at that child, but mostly what I see when I look at that boy is simple...

I see one of the two greatest gifts I have ever been given.

So, tomorrow, my boy ends but one phase of his journey...

And quickly begins another.

It is my hope that I have given him the tools he needs;

The faith that will be required to travel it;

And, the insight to know that life is 50% choices...

And, 50% chance...

And, the ability to know when to make the choice...

And, when to chance it.

Oh, baby boy, we've had a long walk through life...

We've run...

We've stumbled...

We've fallen...

And, each time, we've gotten back up and started all over again.

May your finishes always be as strong as your starts;

May you find success in your failures;

May you always know the grace of God;

May God always grant you His mercy;

May you always know the difference in the two.

Before you can fly, baby boy, you have to jump...

But, it is in the free fall where you will...

Find your wings.

And...I Missed You...

Dude...

Maggie and I had some fun this morning.

Without giving it away, just let me tell you this much...

She gave a poor girl hell...

Because THAT girl was in the WRONG place...

At the RIGHT time.

Somewhere between the outrageous laughter and thinking I was sure to wet my pants, somewhere I had the thought...

"When was the last time you felt this free and had so much fun?"

And, without hesitation, I answered myself...

"July 19, 2009."

And, I missed you.

My beautiful friend, life has changed so much for me since then.

So many times I've needed YOUR voice...

And, found silence.

And, I missed you.

I think you've moved forward in your journey.

I know I don't feel you around me anymore...

Which leaves so very lonely.

And, I miss you.

You're not in my air anymore.

You are; however, in my heart.

Just sometimes, I want you in my air.

And, I miss you.

You wouldn't even recognize the life I'm living right now.

And, dude, honestly, it's almost better for you this way.

You'd be an absolute wreck right now worrying.

But, the fact that I can't call you up and TELL you not to worry...

That I am fine...

Breaks my heart.

And, I miss you.

Sometimes, I wonder why it was that you decided that I would stay...

And, you would go.

Even though I know that answer.

Knowing what I know, it still doesn't help.

And, I miss you.

This hole in my heart, without doubt, I now realize will never fill.

It gets easier, but it's still there, and sometimes...

I'm back to where I was at 3 a.m. that morning.

And, I miss you.

You are never to be forgotten...

You are to always be loved...

You are to always be remembered...

Even though...

I miss you.

And, I always will.

I love you, my friend...

Today...

Yesterday...

Tomorrow...

Forever...

I will miss you.

Snow......(Hey, Oh!)

It all started innocently enough.

My friend and I were joking about her trip to the movies, and I mentioned she needed to get a box of Snowcaps...

Because I like them.

In a rush, it all came back to me like it happened yesterday...

So, a few years ago...

Pre-husband number two...

When I dated this guy that WAS the total package...

He was tall (And, I mean TALL, people!)...

He was handsome...

He was kind...

He was totally in tune to me.

Or what he thought was me, but I digress...

One weekend, I was at his house and we went to rent movies...

I saw Snowcaps.

And, people, I saw that dark chocolate candy with its little white candy sprinkles, and I, literally, turned into a kid in a candy shop...

"C! We have to buy Snowcaps!" I shouted without shame.

"Ok," he responded, without batting an eye...

And, there is where his demise began.

Seriously.

He shouldn't have paid so close attention...

Which, in hind site, makes no sense, when I think about how my heart swelled the night Husband Number 2 walked up to me at the ballpark and retold the story of how he had walked to every concession stand asking for a Three Musketeers Bar, just for me, and how none of them had it...

Which led me to my thought process I'm typing out right now...

Sometimes, it just doesn't matter, men.

No matter how many boxes of Snowcaps you have...

It just doesn't matter.

Sometimes, we like the guy that has no Snowcaps at all...

And, it doesn't even matter.

We may love him, absent the dark chocolate treat.

Don't try too hard, guys...

A man trying too hard is a complete turn off..

When you're trying to "earn" us.

Now, once you "have" us...

Each and EVERY attempt will be noted into the memory bank. (See Three Musketeers memory noted above!)

A man trying too hard, to me, indicates weakness.

I don't like weakness.

I don't allow it in myself.

I certainly wouldn't allow it in you...

Even though, as a human being, I KNOW we all have weakness.

Don't expose yours so soon...

It's a deal breaker.

Which leads me to this afternoon...

I passed my "friend's" house and noticed a for sale sign.

Now, people, we've maintained a "no explanation needed" relationship for five years now...

But, the thought of his moving without my knowledge...

Offended me.

To the point that, out of character, I dialed his number...

"So, I took a wrong turn and circled by your house today and saw a realtor sign. You're moving?"

And, he explained to me that it's not him. It's his neighbor. And, we joked about the notes he should post to his front door about perspective buyers...

And, the call ended with empty promises of follow up calls...

Which each of us know will never happen.

This guy has no Snowcaps.

Not one.

For whatever reason, it works for me.

Maybe because I don't invest in his Snowcaps.

I don't know.

So, there's this guy...

And, I think he just may have a few boxes of Snowcaps...

Not sure how to figure it out, but I'm pretty sure...

I can find out.

I think I may like his Snowcaps.

Only time will tell...

Take Off!!!

I remember in the 80's hearing this song on my radio over and over...

I slightly remember giggling.

It must have impressed me, because as I heard it play, I realized I knew every word.

Doesn't matter.

In 1980's Alexandria, Louisiana, we did not have computers in our house...

Let alone the three I have in mine now.

In 1980's Alexandria, Louisiana, we did not have the internet...

Like I have now.

In 1980's Alexandria, Louisiana, I could never have guessed my kinship with this song was foreshadowing what was coming in my life...

An eclectic, amazing group of people that haled from the "Great White North"...

And, tomorrow, I hear my country and their country are dueling...

A battle of wills, on ice, that will determine the victor...

The world's best, if you will.

And, people, you just gotta forgive me if I am cheering for the maple leaf.

I can't help it.

And, if you don't understand where I'm coming from...

You may as well just...

Take off!

Tomorrow, I am honorary Canadian...

Bwahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!

Oh, Canada!!!

Take off!!!

Over the Rainbow...

People, I just don't check my personal email anymore these days. It's not that I don't want to. Fact is, by the end of the day, when I've answered a thousand work-related emails...

I just don't care anymore.

This weekend; however, between the snow and Mardi Gras, I gave a few minutes of my time to my Hotmail account...

Snuggled somewhere in there, I found an email from my aunt...

Which included a link...

Um, apparently, my family has a website of their very own...

Who knew, right?

So, as any good computer nerd will do, I followed the link and got LOST in the website for a while...

While there, I wasn't just wasting time, because, well, you know me.

No, I wasn't wasting time, I was...

Stealing old photos and saving them to my computer.

This was one of them I found there. I love this picture, because in it, I see all that was mostly important to me growing up...

I see my cousin, Sherry, who is five days older than me, and even though we really didn't love one another that much when we were young...

Is my greatest champion in adulthood.

I see my sister, Beverly, two years my senior, who, all holes barred, is probably closer to me than anyone on the planet, and I don't even tell her that REMOTELY enough.

Behind us all, I see my grandparents' Winnebago...

And, people, let me tell you something...

That Winnebago was EVERY grandchild's closest friend in the 1970's.

It was in that motor home we plotted, and planned and acted...

Just that little bit of that Winnebago I can see brings back so much.

I remember Christmases and extension cords...

Easters and Easter baskets...

Taffy and Kelly...

Sherry and Gary...

Beverly and me...

And, I remember Robbie.

I remember us all scripting our annual "Wizard of Oz" play...

We did it every year.

I don't remember much about it, except that somewhere in my Grandmother's kid-unfriendly (and, not unfriendly in that bad way)house, we found a ginormous rubber ball that would signal the entrance of Glenda, the Good Witch.

I remember Beverly was always Toto. (Don't worry. We had but 4 cast members. She got to be someone else, too!)

I believe I was always the Scarecrow...

And, Robbie was The Wizard.

I remember Robbie holding up a blanket and demanding, "Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!"

I can't remember our play ever ending...

I can't remember our play ever beginning...

It just was.

Four cousins, one heart.

Oh, I remember that Winnebago...

I remember MeeMee...

I remember DeeDee...

I remember Jackie...

I remember Greenwood.

I remember fire escapes and garden hoes...

Gardens and gas tanks...

Garages that went unused...

Cash registers and "homemade" meat...

Pastures and farms...

I remember Mr. and Mrs. Bice...

I remember the First Church of Greenwood...

I remember Kelly's Truck Stop and peach cobbler...

I remember Milton.

I remember walking to the store...

I remember going to the park and the three little "rocking" gadgets they had...

I remember Waskom and grocery shopping...

I remember going to Aunt Ruby's to swim...

I remember the Mimosa tree...

Mostly, people...

I remember love.

Love surrounded us and encompassed us in that little wood frame house in Greenwood, Louisiana.

All of us, cousins...

Concerned not about the THEN...

But, about what awaited us...

Over the rainbow.

These Are the Days...

I was just beginning to get steaks ready to marinate for my Valentine Dinner with the two most important people in the world, my daughter and my son, when the back door opened far earlier than I anticipated.

I looked back, and as the boy walked through the door, I asked, "The parade over already? You're kidding me."

He looked up a little sheepishly. "Nope. It's done." He went on, "Someone's here that wants to see you."

Now, people, let me tell you that I had a hard time coming up with the thought of anyone I could POSSIBLY want to see this afternoon, but, like a mother does, I said hesitantly, "Ok. Tell 'em to come in."

And, he walked through the door...

A little taller than the last time I saw him, but that infectious grin on his face lit my world!

"Jack! What are you doing?"

His grin grew even bigger, "I came to see my Miss Pam."

I hugged that boy tight. He was truly a beautiful sight.

In that time that I hugged him, I remembered him...

And all the nights he, and 10 more of their closest friends, spent on my living room floor, in my den floor, in the boy's bedroom floor...where ever they could find a place to land for the night...

All those years ago.

I remembered golf carts and golf lessons and fireworks and Sheriff's departments...

And, laughter...

More than anything...

I remembered their laughter.

I couldn't keep food in the house.

There were never less than five 13 and 14 year-old boys in my house at any given time.

They thought my fried chicken was the best they had ever had, and begged me to open a restaurant, because we could "be rich" if we did.

They would show up at the door at seven in the morning or ten at night, knowing it would always be open to them.

And, it always was.

All those boys, each of them, lived together; went to church together; went to school together; laughed together...

They were the biggest motley crew you'd ever seen...

Sweet Jack the youngest of the bunch...

Braces on his teeth, and a smile that could light the world.

Ask any of those boy the laws about shooting fireworks in THIS parish, and they can quote it to you...

Because, you see, it was MY house the deputy brought them all to when they found them lighting firecrackers and tossing them off their golf carts...

"Fireworks can be shot no less than 250 feet of a business or residence in Rapides Parish."

(I made them recite that to me over and over and over again that day before I'd let them go home, and I do believe THAT was one time they all wanted to go home!)

Oh, all those boys...

They made me crazy when they all stormed me.

Cooking, cleaning and keeping up with them was a JOB...

But, I loved every second of it.

Not so much then as I do today...

I'd LOVE to have those boys back in my floors today...

I'd LOVE to hear their laughter...

Just one more time.

Those are the days I remember.

Glitter in the Air...

I dialed his phone just now.

It's always a coin toss...

He may answer...

He may not.

It's a ritual we're both accustomed to.

Somehow, we're both tuned in to when the other REQUIRES an answer.

As the phone continued, unanswered, I thought this time may be a time he wouldn't answer...

And, no big, really.

I knew he'd call me back when he realized I'd called.

Amazingly, his "What're ya' doin'?" resounded in my ear, rather than his voice mail.

"That's not the question," I responded. "I called to see what you're doin'. Ya' workin' later?"

"You know it."

"What time are you done tonight?"

"11."

"You patrolin' later?"

"Nope. I'm done at 11."

"Good. I'm takin' you to brunch tomorrow, since you're the closest thing I have to a valentine, ok?"

"Yep. I'm in."

"Nice. Call me when you wake up."

"I will."

"Ok. Be careful. See you in the mornin'."

"See you tomorrow."

And, just like that, the conversation was over...

Sometimes, I'm so grateful he and I were brought together.

It is so beautiful to have a person of the opposite sex to just call on...

Who, without question, will always be there...

No matter what.

Then, there are times, like tonight...

I wonder if we aren't the other's biggest disservice of a lifetime.

Each being the emotional foot-hold of the other...

Until none other is needed.

I admit it: I don't move forward too much, because I don't have to.

I've got a rock-solid man in my life who will step in and right all my wrongs...

Move my furniture...

Hook up my appliances...

Listen to me cry.

Just last week I called him...

Sobbing through the phone, I told him what was going on, and I will never forget the way he answered me.

Ever.

Two marriages; countless "boyfriends"; friends; whatever...

And, he made a statement to me that NONE of them has ever said...

"We knew this was going to happen."

And, in that conversation, I realized what friendship is.

He never said, "you"...

He said "we"...

And, for the first time in my lifetime, I realized I wasn't alone.

He's with me.

Always.

Sometimes, I'm tempted at the thought of just "resting" there...

Sometimes, I think he's tempted at the thought of just "resting" with me.

It would be a peaceful rest, too, I do believe.

Sometimes, I allow myself to wonder what would happen if we moved forward...

He knows me.

He knows the good...

He knows the bad...

He knows the ugly...

And, he's still here.

No, I love him.

But, I'm not in love with him...

He loves me.

But, he's not in love with me...

There's a difference.

A few months ago, he and I went on a "real" date...

Complete with he and I both knowing we'd be together for the night...

And, when it came down to it...

Neither of us could do it.

We came straight home, neither of us acknowledging what had just NOT happened.

Oh, friends, yes, I LOVE him.

I'm just not in love with him.

And, I wish I could be...

Almost as much as I wish I could find his perfect match...

He is so beautiful.

He needs someone equally special.

I can't seem to find someone that I think is "deserving" of him.

But, I never quit looking.

She's out there, and I'll find her...

One day.

Just not today...

Or yesterday.

Or tomorrow.

Today, I'll just throw a fistful of glitter in the air...

For tonight.

Unloved...

To Write Love on Her Arms Day begins today.

As I awoke this morning, I realized today was the day, and before I even checked the amount of snow that had mysteriously fallen last night, I hunted down my Sharpie and went to work inking out that beautiful, four-letter word on my arm.

True to form, I screwed it up. The tiny, little heart I tried to draw just under the word "love" turned into some sort of a circle with a tiny tail.

Truer to form, needing perfection (or something close to it), I searched my cabinets for something that could take it off before I snapped my picture and posted it to my Facebook wall. I ended up with the Resolve, and, voila! The genetically deformed heart disappeared...



As I began to edit the image on my computer, I noticed the scar there, just to the left of the letter "L"...

And, I remembered.

A little more than embarassed to post the picture, as I realized some may recognize that as the type scar it actually is, I started to cut it out of the picture. Then, I thought, "How hypocritcal can you be? THIS is exactly what it's all about."

And, again, I remembered.

I went back to that horrifically unrecognizable dark place I was living inside a little more than a year ago.

This time, it was different. This time, I saw that place from afar...

And, this time, that horrifically dark place was unrecognizable to me from the outside, looking in.

So many have and do find themselves where I found myself back those months ago.

Disillusioned...

Dissatisfied...

Disengaged...

Disenfranchised from life.

From all aspects of life...

Family...

Friends...

Co-workers.

Feeling isolated and alone in a world that seems so very big and so very cold...

That would keep on spinning, whether they were here or not.

And, think it would be a better place if they were not.

Not taking the time to realize those they love so fiercely love them, too.

Ashamed of what they're feeling, and too afraid to admit things are really just that bad.

Never knowing that a few months can make all the difference.

I am living proof to all of them that they are wrong.

If a split second can make a difference, a year can make a world of difference.

If a smile can change a split second...

Love can save a life.

No one is unloved.

No one should feel unloved.

Hope springs enternal...

Where there is love.

Falling Free...

I am quite honored to be participating in my BFF, Maven's, "Lady Marmelade" this week. Stop by and take a look. Since Monday, Maven has highlited some truly amazing, talented women and their writing. I've learned something new each day since the project began, and I can't wait to see what's coming up the rest of the week. Stop by and see it for yourself.

Oh, and, don't know if you've heard this or not, but The New Orleans Saints ARE the Super Bowl champs!!!!!

WHO DAT?

WE DAT!

BELIEVE DAT!

YES, BABY!

BLESS YOU, BOYS...


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~






I remember the scent of him as he kissed me. It was a fragrance I had never smelled before...

And, probably, will never smell again.

Fitting.

Where we were...

What I was doing...

What we were doing...

Had an aroma of something I had never done before.

I was before him, newly divorced, wanting my freedom but simultaneously wanting the familiarity of my life back...

In a hotel, just off the interstate in Monroe, for the first time, in 14 years, I knew what it was to know someone other than the one I had spent the last 11 years of my life building a life with, only to watch it fall.

His kiss was deep and his touch was gentle. Near mechanically, I followed his lead...

Not particularly enjoying myself, but knowing this was a necessary step in moving on, and painfully aware of my vulnerability and inexperience.

The town, the room, the man, all so alien to me, and yet, I was able to maintain as though it were familiar.

And, there in that room, somewhere between darkness and daylight, for the second time in my lifetime, I became a woman.

Sleeping only for a few minutes at a time that night, stirring in the darkness with the thought resounding through my head that life had changed and that the one sleeping beside me was foreign.

I didn't know the feel of his skin...

The perfections and imperfections of his body...

The sound of his slumbered breathing in the darkness.

Life, as I knew it, was never coming back.

By morning...

I wanted to take it all back.

I knew I couldn't.

Life had changed for me.

My entire definition had changed.

I was no longer a wife and mother.

As of today, I was a mother...

And, a "friend", which each time since then, has been the term I've chosen to introduce anyone in which I've had romantic interest.

I was no longer the woman who kept the house up and did the laundry and cooked the meals...

A stirring had been awakened in me.

I was, in the truest sense of the word, a woman.

I was desired in a way I had never known.

I desired in a way I had never known.

I was different.

I had found freedom.

The road I was traveling was different.

For months and months he and I wandered that path together.

The awkwardness traded itself for sweet surrender.

His touch became one in which I longed for when it wasn't there.

And, I was falling free.

And, loving every minute of it.

He taught me to live again...

To love again...

To take the time to know myself.

Like all good things, it came to an end.

And, once again, I was in an unknown land.

Learning that the only thing I could count on was that I could count on nothing...

But me.

I was independent.

My house was mine; my job was mine; my friends were mine; my car was mine; my money was mine; my debts were mine...

In this big world, I had me.

In this big world, I was so very alone...

And, I was so very, very fragile.

Fragile, yet, falling free.

I stumbled...

I faltered...

I found my footing, and eventually, I stood tall again.

And, then one night, as if by magic, there he was.

In that instant, all the confidence I had spent the last three years building was as though it had never happened...

Weak in the knees and stammering for something intriguing to say, I turned to meet him.

I knew at the second our eyes locked that he was "the one".

I knew I was going to marry him.

Our courtship was short and intense and passionate and the most beautiful thing I have ever known.

We moved in synergy.

Each knowing the other's next move before they made it...

Knowing the other's thought before they spoke it.

Knowing the other's feelings hidden behind their eyes.

Within just months, he became my husband.

Our life together was an experiment in sweet agony.

A most beautiful disaster.

It was insanely beautiful.

But, it was a disaster, indeed.

Finding a soulmate in someone with whom you don't share values is a tragedy.

Without doubt, it's a cruel and harsh reality in this rollercoaster ride we call life.

You are sentenced to a life in prison chains, your heart comparing every flutter that may pass through it to that which was once so pure...

Comparing it to exactly what it was you felt when life was beautiful.

And, you were falling free.

My friends, nothing will ever compare.

Ever.

As the months turned into years, I bathed in the pain because that was the only thing left for me to hold onto, and my need to hold on was greater than my need to move on.

I've spent my time since then rebuilding.

Never, ever do I look back on that time and not grieve...

I grieve for him because I know the tortured soul he's become.

I grieve for me because I am the tortured soul I've become.

I grieve for what might have been..

What could have been...

What should have been.

And, I grieve because I know, without doubt, that even if the planets perfectly aligned and the opportunity arose, I could never go back.

It is in the past.

And, it's never coming back.

I could wait from now until forever, and it will never be back.

So, I continue on...

Probably taking more time to decide to move than I really should.

The realization that I can't trust my judgment precedes the desires of my heart.

Knowing that each time my signals have said, "Go."...

They should have been screaming, "Stop!"

Freedom isn't free, friends.

It comes with a price.

You can spend your life alone.

Or you can try again.

And, there's no guarantee that to try won't cost more of you than you are willing to give.

You just may pay with your heart.

Although it sounds so tempting and ever-so beautiful...

Mercy me.

To be falling free.

You Don't Know What Love Is...

"You don't know what love is."

I've made this statement over and over and over again the past few months to my son.

And, I'm right.

He doesn't know what love is.

He doesn't even have a clue.

At the tender age of 17, I thought I owned the world.

He doesn't realize it, but I've BEEN his female version.

His dad has BEEN him.

The boy says, "You don't know."

Oh, honey, I know.

How very well I know.

Your dad knows.

All too well, he knows.

Too young to know different, and too stubborn to listen to the voice of opposition, his dad and I began our journey.

I can't say it's one I'd take back, because if I did, I'd lose so much of what makes me "me".

I can tell you; however, that now that I'm older...

Had I have STAYED the course...

The life I love now...

Is one I'd never missed...

If I never knew different.

Oh, you don't know what love is.

You don't know.

I know you want to THINK you know...

And, I try to tip-toe around your heart, which lies on your sleeve, but son...

I get really tired of it.

I KNOW the road ahead of you.

You'll just have to forgive me if I don't like it...

I was too stupid to realize I didn't like it when I was on it.

It took me years upon years to realize I didn't like that road...

And, I destroyed your sister's life...

I destroyed YOUR life...

I destroyed your dad's life...

I destroyed my life...

At that realization.

Oh, son, you don't know.

You think you know.

And, in all honesty, with the amount of love you are capable of feeling, sweet boy, maybe you DO know.

Trust Mama.

What you are capable of is not enough.

Life takes more than that.

My baby boy, you don't know.

Unwritten....

In 2005, I embarked upon a journey.

Newly separated from my husband, getting a divorce for the SECOND time, which in my family...

In my town...

Is a big No-No.

Big time.

Feeling as though I must be the world's biggest failure.

Defeated.

Alone.

Scared.

One day, I turned on the car and a song began to play.

The artist was new, but the beat was fresh, and as heavy as my heart was at the time, I couldn't help but get caught up in the music.

Somewhere between the beat and the choir singing in the background, I began to really HEAR the lyrics...

"Today is where your book begins. The rest is still unwritten."

And, from there, this song became my anthem.

"I break traditions. Sometimes my tries are outside the lines."

Hope sprung eternal from somewhere within me that I couldn't describe.

This girl that was singing GOT it.

She KNEW me.

"Staring at the blank page before you. Open up the dirty window. Let the sun illuminate the words that you cannot find."

Her words would pull me through the next year like I can't even begin to describe without sounding like a raving lunatic.

I guess sometimes, to really GET it, we have to be so down, only someone who's been there can understand. And, we are truly touched when we feel like there is someone out there who DOES get it.

Over and over and over again during that time, when that voice inside tried to tell me I was a failure, I'd plug in this cd, and I'd realize I was just fine.

Absolutely. fine.

"No one else can feel it for you. Only you can let it in. No one else...No one else can speak the words on your lips."

The rest is still unwritten.

Jump forward to two nights ago...

Now, people, each year my company holds its annual event in Las Vegas, and although we really look forward to going, it's an anticipation mixed with a little dread.

At least on my part.

By the week before time to go, I am a flutter of excitement, my phone ringing non-stop, and me dialing others, just to say, "I get to SEE YOU next week!"

BUT, I am an insomniac, as you may or may not realize.

Las Vegas is two full hours behind my local time.

Knowing that my eyes automatically open at 3 a.m. at home, my eyes are opening at 1 a.m. in Las Vegas...

Add to that the stress of knowing that we start at 7 a.m., which in my company's time, means 6:45, and knowing that we go until 11 p.m. or 12 a.m. each night...

Means, yeah. Pam will get one hour of sleep each night while she's there.

My obsessive disorder that dictates I must NEVER be late for ANYTHING, when coupled with the stress of knowing my company demands I be 15 minutes early for EVERYTHING...

Well, THAT part's a neurotic nightmare, at best.

This year, as the date approached, two additional strikes were against me...

My son was hospitalized the day before I was scheduled to leave.

And...

I had the worst cold known to man.

It's was a recipe for disaster.

But, as all of us who are fortunate enough to work for the company I call my employer, I arose in time to make my Tuesday morning flight, and as ever, by the time the plane touched down, I was ready and on go!

I was there, and I'd make the best of it.

My company was there to help me make the best of it.

When I tell you people that I truly love my job and what I do, I am not stretching the truth even a little.

In a world where most people hate to get up and go to work and hate the people they are working with...

Me?

Nah.

I wake up each morning ready to do my job and loving the beautiful people that surround me that are there to help me do it.

For someone who works from either a computer at home, or behind the wheel of a car, I have more camaraderie that most who go to a building full of people every morning.

Each day, I talk to my co-workers within my state and across the country, and because we all understand the work each of us must put into our jobs, we support one another...

We get one another by.

We are all very fortunate that the ones who are charged with managing us understood, even years ago as the company was forming, that we would NEED that companionship with one another and did all they could do to ensure we had it.

And, have it, we do.

The culmination of the week's events happens the night before we leave Vegas.

This is the night the awards are given to the top performers, and we, as employees, are treated like royalty...

Even little, tiny me, who did vow to do better next year.

This year, after the dinner, the stage went dark and an undefined voice announced, "Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome to the stage, Natasha Bedingfield."

OMG.

OMG.

OMG.

I. lost. my. mind.

What?

My idol?

The one who got me through was here?

Are you KIDDING me?

But they weren't. She appeared on the stage, and I was in awe.

And, once again, her words, mixed with the classes I had taken over the last two days and the messages of encouragement and belief from upper management began to, once again, speak to me.

And, they speak to me even now.

Yes. I am back from Vegas.

Still sick, but strategizing...

Ready to get back to work.

Because once again, those words spoke to me.

Today is where my book begins.

The rest is still unwritten.

Get Back, Honky Cat...

"I found a penny today

laying on the ground.

But it's not just a penny,

this little coin I've found.

Found pennies come from heaven,

that's what my Grandpa told me.

He said Angels toss them down.

Oh, how I loved that story.

He said when an Angel misses you,

they toss a penny down;

Sometimes just to cheer you up,

to make a smile out of your frown.

So, don't pass by that penny

when you're feeling blue.

It may be a penny from heaven

that an Angel's tossed to you."

That email came to me from my best friend today with some message saying something to the effect of,

"Thought I should send this to you. How many hundreds of dollars in change have you found lately?"

Funny.

This song has run through my head over and over and over and OVER again since all the madness started in July...

The resouding phrase?

"Oh! A change is gonna do me good!"

Coins...

Change...

Yep. Things have changed.

Those coins on the driveway are just proof to me.

He's here, friends.

Maybe even moreso than before.

He IS here.

He cheers.

He laughs.

He chastises.

He IS here.

Never, EVER should you doubt it.

He's calling for CHANGE!

I'm trying, ever so diligently to listen...

Seriously.

I am.

Then, he does something silly like locks a door on me, and I FORGET I'm supposed to be serious, and I start to laugh.

OH! A change is gonna do me good!

I got your change, brother.

Just you wait and see...

Although, I suspect you already knew that.

I've listened.

I'm ready.

We're on the move, buddy!

You ready to drink whiskey from a bottle of wine?

OH! A change is gonna do me good!

How Can You Mend a Broken Heart...

Ah, people, we're all tired, right?

I can see it...

I can hear it.

It's not in what you say or do...

It's in what you don't say...

Or don't do.

Friends, we're all dealing.

All our lives are on one level or another.

Your life is either at "low"...

Or your life is at "level"...

Or your life is at "high"...

Which, in my opinion, is far more dangerous than "low" or "level" any day.

"High" is at the level in which we lose...

"Level" is a mediocre center of the universe in which we all descend into "low".

At least when we're at low, there's no where else to go but up, right?

I've become well-accustomed to "low".

In fact, sometimes, I think I like it here.

Far better than at "up" or "level"...

Nah.

"Up" and "level" are places from which to fall.

I don't particularly like falling.

I'd rather sanctimoniously plan my downward spiral.

At least that way I don't lose my footing, right?

If no one sees me fall, there's no one there to laugh, right?

I like it that way.

A few, I let in.

A very, very few.

Heartbreak is tough.

The lessons that come with it are even moreso.

Sometimes, we're able to spread our wings and try again...

It is in those times that we are able to define just who we are.

It's not how many times you fall, friends...

It's how many times you pick yourself up...

Dust yourself off..

And, start all over again.

I've tried...

I've succeeded...

And, in my success, realized I've failed.

I've failed...

Tucked my tail under...

Accepting life "is what it is"...

And, somewhere...

Somehow...

The lesson was realized in the darkness...

Through a broken heart, a battle was won.

How many times do we try?

Over and over and over again...

I guess.

Until we, at long last, feel we're "on top".

Tell me, just how do you mend a broken heart?

I don't have the answer.

I just know that my spirit keeps believing...

Keeps longing...

Keeps trying...

To save me from my own...

Broken heart.

I'm Movin' On...

Since Monday, I've been keeping a secret.

Not so much because it's a secret, but more because...

Well, I'm a little embarrassed to say it.

Tomorrow, all I own will be packed in boxes or on trailers, and...

I'm moving.

Now, I aint' goin' far.

In fact, it's less than a half mile down the street.

Me, the Queen of Unpacking is...

Packing.

Seriously.

I hate this house I'm in.

I've hated it since the first box was laid on the floor.

I've HATED it.

Since July, I've been plagued by bad times.

Poor house is not to blame, but, well, it takes the blame...

For every dark day;

Dark cloud;

Dark month...

I blame this house.

On Monday, I just decided to see what was out there...

By end of business on Monday, I was the newest townhouse dweller on the bayou...

I've downsized...

I've traded the big back yard for a house with light and a feeling that I can move about.

As of Sunday night, I will call a new place "home".

I look around the present walls that confine me, and I see...

Darkness.

I remember back in July, still surrounded by boxes and the smell of cardboard that at 10 a.m...

I turned off all electronics, lit candles and sat in silence for one hour.

My body was here, but my heart was in Merrickville.

Over the next few weeks, I giggled as doors closed when they shouldn't have...

And a collection of spare change began to evolve on my driveway, carpets and patio without explanation.

And, with every giggle, I hurt.

I blame this house for that darkness.

It's not its fault, but I have to leave it for that reason.

I have to move on.

Surely, he goes with me when I leave for the last time.

He doesn't like this house...

He likes me, right?

Nearly six months ago, I sat right where I am at this second, and he and I had our last conversation.

"Why are you still awake when it's almost time for you to get up?"

As of tomorrow, I'm movin' on...

All the darkness.

All the sorrow.

All the doubt.

It leaves me tomorrow.

In its place, I will be surrounded by...

Light....

Comfort...

Understanding.

Him.

As of tomorrow, I am new again.

Thankfully, he needs no packing.

He just fits right there in my heart.

Wherever my heart is, there he is also.

Swiller, I love you.

Think you could help me lift this box?

Cause, buddy, you and me are moving on...