And…We Have Touch Down

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“When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home.”-The Outsiders

The opening lines from The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton, floated around my head while Meggie drove me to my follow up appointment with Dr. Perdue. The day wasn’t particularly sunny. In fact, the skies were threatening rain and the humidity slicked my skin with moisture. All I could think about was taking my first steps after a 95 day journey that changed my life.

Meg helped me with my last wheelchair ride, all the while calling me an ‘old lady’. We laughed together, me and my Chica. We checked in, had x-rays taken, and were guided to the surgeon’s cast room. I hopped up on the exam table like a pro, and removed my boot cast. I conversed with Meggie and the nurse while my vitals were taken.

“Is it hot in here?”, I inquired after the nurse left.

“No old lady, you’re anxious”, Meg chided. “Stop fidgeting.”

As we waited, I surfed through the pictures on my phone, until I landed on the ones I took at my two week check-up. There, in full color was my ankle, purple and swollen. The three incisions still angry and fiery red. Black sutures protruded from my skin looking like railroad tracks to hell. You would have thought I would be disgusted by the sight, but I was utterly fascinated. I grinned as I slid my finger across the smart phone screen and viewed the progress of my recuperation. I had come so far.

“Mom, you look weird.”

“I’m…Just…Happy.”

Dr. Perdue and Pete the PA joined us in the cast room. The surgeon smiled his teddy bear smile and shook my hand. We chatted about progress and recuperation. He said the Talus bone was turning white, meaning it was getting blood flow.

“I’ve never seen healing like this after such a traumatic injury,” Perdue said.

“Are you saying we are like Wolverine from X-Men?”, Meg asked.

I giggled anxiously, “I just did everything you told me to, I didn’t want to screw this up.”

“You’ve got good genetics.”

“And I had lots of people praying for me. I prayed a lot. I yelled at God too, but mostly I prayed.”

We talked about the future. That I wasn’t out of the woods yet, when it came to the Talus bone dying. For right now, we focused on walking. I got the go ahead to stop hopping on my left foot, and start walking on both feet. I laughed like a little kid and shook the doctor’s hand. After 95 days, I was going to learn to walk again. The busy doctor left the room and I secured my boot cast. I ruminated on the exam table.

“So…are you going to walk?”

“Gimme a minute, I’m trying to psyche myself up.”

Meggie aimed her smart phone at me and took video of me walking for seven seconds. Every tendon, ligament and muscle from my right knee to my foot screamed as I bore weight. Right foot first, then left foot. And so on. I…was…walking. Again…

We pushed the wheelchair out into the vestibule by the elevator. Meg carried my purse as I took my first walk outside in 95 days. Sure, I’d been outside, but it was not on my own. It was in a wheelchair or hopping with the support of a walker. No, this was different. I could walk on my own. In sunshine, moonlight, darkness or rain. I was free.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur. Lunch with Meggie and Adam Boy. My phone being blown up by friends and family asking if I was walking. A script filled and then home. For the first time in three months, I walked up the 13 steps to my apartment door. I unlocked the door and there in front of me was an old friend, my wheelchair. I burst into tears when I realized the magnitude of the change in my life. I had been reborn.

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Last night rain poured down, and I craved to walk in it. I wanted it to wash me clean while I drew in the scent of clean earth. To baptize me. Though exuberant, I was too sore and tired go outside. My right knee hurt more than anything.  I’m thankful for the pain, because it’s nothing like I’d felt three months ago. My body ached, but my spirit is soared. You know the next time it storms, this woman will be out in the middle of it. In a summer dress and barefoot, hopefully.

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100 Word Song-Can’t Keep

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Everyone left my bedside and I welcomed the quiet. I needed a break from their painted on smiles and feigned conversations. Family can be overbearing, but it’s the worst when you’re terminal.

I depressed my morphine pump, and fought the urge to drift off to sleep. Killing myself with the drug would be easy.

My disease was ravenous, and I was finished with it. I grabbed a bottle from my nightstand. My fingers shook when unscrewing the cap, but not my resolve.

Like Alice in Wonderland, I drank my potion and announced to no one, ‘you can’t keep me here.’

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Thank you Lance Burson for hosting the 100 word song prompt. You rock my friend! You really, really, really do. I’m honored you asked me to contribute the song for this week.

People, go read his work. He’s fabulous!!!

Sliding Glass Window Oberservations From A Grenade

Yesterday I watched from my sliding glass window, five young men wearing the same color suit. Four of them wore ties folded in Windsor knots. One of them wore a slick bow tie. There was a sixth man. A photographer wearing khakis, took candid shots of them as they changed from gym to dress shoes, straightened each others ties and goofed off, like young men do. My guess was, they were the groom and attendants for a wedding. Or maybe they were an a cappella group. Who knows?

My apartment complex is set back in a wooded area, so the photographer took them behind the building to get more shots. They left their gym shoes and back packs resting on the hoods of their vehicles. Their doors were left wide open. When they returned, they grabbed all their crap and jammed themselves into their vehicles. They and the khaki panted photographer headed off to parts unknown. I was excited to observe them as they smile radiantly and wore the same color suits. Four of them with ties folded in Windsor knots. The other, maybe the groom, wearing a slick bow tie.

Often, my observational posts begin on my personal Facebook page. An idea hits me and I have to write it down. I’m sure it drives many of my friends crazy because my posts can get a little lengthy. Whatever, then take me out of your news feed! On second thought, please don’t, because I want you to read my observations. Looking at my window is about the only place I can draw inspiration right now.  I’ve kinda been stuck in my apartment for 70 days.

My focus waned and I didn’t write much more till I arrived home from My Trivia last night. At 1:00 a.m I began writing a lengthy email to a friend, when the following quote popped into my Sparkly little head:

 I wanted to know that he would be okay if I did. I wanted to not be a grenade, to not be a malevolent force in the lives of the people I loved.–John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

I wrote to my friend, I am a goddamn grenade.

I realized that in my married life and when I was raising my kids, I was a grenade. I was a malevolent force that ruined everything in my path. I was an F5 tornado or category 5 hurricane. And I was hell bent on self destructing. The self destruction included being a horrible drunk, a slow suicide with food and conversing with men that I had no business talking to.

I don’t want to be a grenade, anymore.

My ultimate goal is to try to find peace within my stormy, passionate and romantic heart. My ultimate goal is to not judge others and somehow rise above the transgressions of my past. I’ve sought forgiveness from God. I can’t go back and change anything. I’m not looking for sympathy. I’m not even looking for forgiveness from Roger Darling, Meggie or Adam Boy. All I can do is keep my mouth shut, my mind clear and try to be happy.

I wish for the three I’ve hurt the most to be happy, because I don’t want to be a goddamn grenade, anymore.

I talked to my mother today and I asked her when I should stop saying I’m sorry for all the havoc I wreaked? Her response was as soon as put down the bucket of guilt I continued to carry around. I may never be completely forgiven by my children or the man I shared 24 years of my life with, but I’m going to put down that bucket. I’m sure there will be times in my life that I will pick it up again. There will always be a part of me that knows that I fucked everything up.

I’m also acutely aware that I will probably be alone for the rest of my life because of what I’ve done. I have to be okay with that.  I have to realize that there is no such thing as unconditional love, except for the love we give our children. On this journey to myself, I’ve discovered I am a child of God. I am a sinner, but even sinners need to forgive themselves.

His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches over me…

He watches over Meggie and Adam.

And I know, He watches over Roger Darling.

 

100 Word Song-Deep As You Go

We find two lovers embroiled in a heated discussion. I’m not sure of the circumstances that brought them here, but the words came to me. I was in the shower when the woman began screaming, tell her the truth! I’m learning that there are so many degrees of love. So many ways to turn your back on happiness. When we fall, we fall hard. And every time we do, it’s more difficult to get back up. We must though. We must get up, and brush the dust from our hearts. Remove the shards of glass too. Sweep them into a pile and discard them. Hopefully the next time we love, it will be forever.

Thank you Lance Burson from My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog for hosting the 100 Word Song story prompt.

(He… She…)

I miss you so much.

If you did, you’d tell her the truth.

I can’t, you know that.

I know nothing, but what is between you and me. Tell her that you love me.

I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life.

Do you believe in the strength of that love?

Yes.

Then tell her the truth. I am not the reason you faltered, I was merely the catalyst.

What would you have me do?

Tell her that you love me. Own what you feel. Don’t lose me, don’t leave me. Please, don’t let me drown.

 

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A Final Rendezvous With Renee

In my Dreams

These days words leave me hollow like a rotting tree stump. It may be dying, but there’s life buzzing in it anyway. Insects and animals colonize within, while the stump slowly decays and becomes one with the earth again.-Heath

I’m hollow. An empty vessel. Spent. And my story has been told. Every single one of my posts have helped bring me peace. I’ve poured my heart into every word I’ve written. Doesn’t matter if the story was real or fiction. I still bled on these pages.

The fictional stories have all had some grain of reality. A real person. A need. A want. A longing and desire. I have never created characters. I’ve created living, breathing people. Maybe someday I’ll tell you the origin of some of them, but probably not.

My journal entries, now those were something weren’t they? They taught me a thing or two about over sharing. Without them, I would have never learned about this gift that I have. It’s a curse too. See, once you begin to write,  it controls you. You immerse yourself in fiction because reality is too much to bear.

Sometimes words came so fast, I couldn’t write or type them fast enough. I was obsessed, to say the least. Photographs and paintings brought forth words and stories. I never realized how much I had to say.

My first fictional piece was called Ascent. About a girl that wanted to die. She didn’t though. Her newly discovered wings saved her as she began to plummet toward the sea. Little did I realize I was the one sprouting those metaphorical wings.

My writer, he pushed me to write for Friday Fictioneers. What began as a lark proved to be a much needed exercise in discipline. My writer fled, but I stuck with FF. Rochelle Wisoff-Fields has been a terrific mentor. I’m honored she worked so hard with me. I adore her for every criticism and kudos. My best flash fiction story was, The Invisible Man. I may submit it to Narrative Magazine. They’ve rejected my work before, but you never know what can happen.

I’ve had five short stories published by EtherBooks. Alan and Melissa from Ghost, and Damon and Rhiannon from Sounds will always be my best creations. The stories are still available for download on your iPhone or Android phone. The app is free, so please download and critique my stories.

‘The Ghost of a Great Love’ 

‘A Night Swim with Marilyn’ 

‘Dawn at Antietam’ 

‘Sounds of Orioles and the Taste of Lemonade’ 

‘On a Hot Summer Night’ 

Sometimes God Sits on a Stoop is a favorite recent post. I saw the face of God that day. I’ll never forget Curt, or his story.

I’ll keep the blog active for awhile, but don’t be surprised if one of these days it’s gone. Like me, she is a force of nature that can’t be contained.

Real life is waiting. I’m going to live it. I suggest you do the same.

Love,

Sparkly Girl

P.S. Don’t hate on me for posting the 1D video. This song is the shit. Even if it’s sung by a British boy band.

P.P.S. How can I forget Rory, my brother in arms? My world will never be the same now that you’re in it. I love you.

Although I am broken, my heart is untamed, still
And I’ll be gone, gone tonight
The fire beneath my feet is burning bright
The way that I’ve been holding on so tight
With nothing in between
The story of my life…

The Mermaid

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Inspired by Kelli Rose Fugate

Someday, I’ll write like Tori Amos.
Or me.
Or Bukowski.
Or Rumi.
Or not.
Maybe I’ll learn to shut up.
But probably not.
Love the poet in me.
The girl I wish I was.
The woman I am.
The nurturer.
The one that wants to please.
Love and understand me completely.
Or don’t.
My free spirit will always wander.
Explore.
Connect.
Maybe I am a mermaid.
Longing to swim with dolphins.
But maybe, just maybe I want to be held and loved.
Maybe, loving me is that simple.

But what if I’m a mermaid?

In these jeans of yours with her name still on it
Hey, but I don’t care
‘Cause sometimes
I said sometimes I hear my voice
I hear my voice
I hear my voice
And it’s been here
Silent all these years

I’ve been here
Silent all these years
Silent all these
Silent all these years…

Tuneful Tuesday-Pearl Jam and Sirens

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Don’t ask me why, but this song reminds me of my brother Troy from As Long As I’m Singing on WordPress.

I love you my friend.

Want you to know, that should I go, I always loved you, held you high above too.-Eddie Vedder

Hear the sirens, hear the siren
Hear the siren, hear the circus all go found
I hear the sirens more and more in this here town
Let me catch my breath to breathe then reach across the bend

Just to know we’re safe, I am a grateful man
This light is pit, alive and I can see you clear
I could take your hand, and feel your breath
For feel that someday this will be over
I pull you close, so much to lose

Knowing that, nothing lasts forever
I didn’t care, before you were here
A distant laughter, with the everafter
But, all things change, let this remain

Hear the sirens covering distance in the night
The sound, echoing closer, will they come for me, next time?

For every choice, mistake I made, is not my plan
To see you in the arms of another man
And if you choose to stay, I’’ll wait, I’’ll understand

Oh, it’’s a fragile thing, this life we lead, if I think too much, I can’’t get over
When by the graces, by which we live our lives with death over our shoulders
Want you to know, that should I go, I always loved you, held you high above too
I studied your face, the fear goes away.

It’s a fragile thing, this life we lead, if I think too much, I can’’t get over
When by the graves, by which we live our lives with death over our shoulders
Want you to know, that should I go, I always loved you, held you high above too
I studied your face, the fear goes away, the fear goes away, the fear goes away.

Tunesday-Taylor Swift

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Everything has changed…..

I can NOT stand Taylor Swift!

And I’m a big fat liar pants. I want to hate her music. Tell you she has annoying beady blue eyes and she’s a hack. But I’ve come to realize she is quite genuine. She plays guitar, sings marginally well, and writes her own music. Taylor’s music is a little too pop for me. I want to hate her, but I just can’t.

I listened to the song, 22 and couldn’t help but sing along. As I took in the lyrics, I envisioned myself running around with one of my best guy friends, and acting all kinds of stupid.  However, the little heart sign she makes with her hands in every damn photo, makes me want to slap her.  This self-proclaimed Music Whore is on Taylor Swift crack!

I’m too damn hip for this. Oh my fucking God what’s wrong with me?

I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling 22!

I’m obsessed.  Give me more Taylor, PLEASE!

Awhile back I wrote a Friday Fictioneers story, about a sculptor, seduced by a man she thought loved her. I ended the story with the song, Trouble. The main character knew that the man was no good for her, but she fell anyway. He was trouble, yet she wanted him all the same. My character knew she would be left broken, but she had to try.

The Madness of a Woman Seduced

There’s Mean, Love Story, You Belong With Me, and my all time favorite, White Horse. I can’t forget Back to December either. Yeesh, I’m a sucker for lovely lyrics and a simple tune.

Say you’re sorry
That face of an angel comes out just when you need it to
As I paced back and forth all this time
‘Cause I honestly believed in you

Holding on, the days drag on
Stupid girl, I should have known
I should have known

That I’m not a princess, this ain’t a fairytale
I’m not the one you’ll sweep off her feet
Lead her up the stairwell

This ain’t Hollywood, this is a small town
I was a dreamer before you went and let me down
Now it’s too late for you and your white horse to come around

Simple words to tug at my sparkly heart . They make me want to write romantic stories about a knight in shining armor that comes to save the damsel in distress. Thing is, I’m no distressed damsel. I’m not looking for a white knight on a noble steed. I want to be my own KISA (Knight in Shining Armor).

Somehow Taylor’s music inspires me, to chew giant wads of pink bubble gum and blow bubbles the size of my head. To wear one of my many tiaras, act like a princess and wish for the age of 22. And to hope that someday, someone will be….Mine.

And I remember that fight, 2:30 a.m.

You said everything was slipping right out of our hands

I ran out, crying, and you followed me out into the street

Braced myself for the goodbye, because that’s all I’ve ever known

Then you took me by surprise

You said, “I’ll never leave you alone.”

You said. “I remember how we felt, sitting by the water

And everytime I look at you, it’s like the first time

I fell in love with a careless man’s careful daughter

She is the best thing that’s ever been mine.”

 

 

Tunesday-Don’t Let Me Down

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I know, it’s not The Beatles version. So sue me! Dana Fuchs has a voice that sounds like it’s been soaking in whiskey and cigarettes for about 20 years. While Martin Luther’s is as crisp and clear as a winter morning. Bring them together and you have a song that could melt even the most cynical person’s heart.

Across the Universe, the story of Jude and Lucy. A perfect story for this silly and sparkly girl. Think I’ll watch it after I get home from my writer’s group tonight.

Ow! Don’t let me down
Don’t let me down
(Can you dig it?)
Don’t let me down.

Happy Tunesday my loves.

Tunesday-Brave

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You can be amazing…. You can turn a phrase into a weapon or a drug…. (Yes, I would totally do what these dancers did. I would dance with no music, for no reason. I WOULD!!!!)

Good Tunesday my loves. Sorry I’ve been away for so long. Life has changed drastically in the last week or so. I’ve moved out and am living on my own for the first time in my adult life. The silence is sometimes deafening, but I’m keeping busy with household projects. I’ve been visiting friends and trying to learn to do things on my own. Trying to brave.

I’m learning to be truthful in my pursuit of happiness. To think not only of myself, but the others that my quest affects.

My advice, open your heart and mouth. Screw up the courage within and speak your truth. Be prepared, because the outcome ain’t gonna be pretty. Cry your heart out, wait for the dust to settle but be strong in your convictions. Move forward!

Not everyone is going to like what you have to say, or the path you decide to take. Live your life, without selfishness. In time, you will forgive yourself. Hopefully, others will forgive you even if they don’t fully understand your motives. You. Must. Choose. Your. Path.

Your future depends on it.

I dedicate this post and song to those in my life that are searching for courage. For their chance to roar. It takes 20 seconds to speak up and change your life. Make yourself heard and love with all of your heart and soul.

I wanna see you be brave.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX,

A Sparkly Girl

P.S. I’ve written a short story for my Romantic Wednesday post. With a little editing, it should be perfect.