A Split Apart

My Muse

I gazed at the photograph of her and knew Curt her husband, took it. He likes to capture her at moments when she is most herself. I remarked that she was beauty. Right there, in the simple shot of her glowing and thoughtful face.

Blue eyed.

Blonde haired.

Serene, yet the wheels are turning.

She flits from one thing to another.

Her heart is large.

Her vocabulary stellar.

She is mighty with the written word.

The spoken word.

She is an artist.

Everything she sees, she sees potential in.

She found beauty in me. In my heart.

We didn’t speak to each other for 30 years.

Audibly anyway.

Our words made us friends, sisters, split aparts.

Our souls intertwined.

She gave me confidence.

She gave me strength by loving me.

Her photos inspire me to write.

She inspires me.

We will love each other.

Till one of us expires.

Even then, when we are on that other vibration.

We will watch over one another.

The first photo prompt I ever wrote a story for was hers. I titled it West Virginia in the Summer Time. It wasn’t viewed by many bloggers. But it was one of my favorite stories. Fiction. Something I was new at writing. The journal entries were getting old. I needed something more. Tracy provided that. She still does. Words flow through me whenever I peruse her photo albums.

paintbrushdeckrail

The Fourth Day of Vacay and More Word Doodles to Share

Yesterday was great fun. We traveled all over the countryside. I got to see a beautiful cemetery in Sheperdstown. And the bloodiest battle field in the Civil War called Bloody Lane. The cemetery at the site is beautiful and sad. At the battle site it is said that it was so bloody that the blood of the wounded and dead was inches deep.  There were thousands of bodies strewn everywhere. It was strange to stand on the site where so many men lost their lives. Where we stood there were bodies of young men underneath us. I was awestruck. I don’t understand war for one thing, but to be standing there in the quiet of the cemetery, you could just hear and feel the souls of those that died. They were tortured.

I met Tracy’s doodah doggies. I got mauled and love on by them. It was a good, good day. Now to share the rest of my silly word doodles that I wrote down on my drive to God’s country.

The song Landslide comes on. I will sing this song soon. With the kids singing harmonies.

My ears pop in the peaks and valleys.

Clouds still forming with thunderheads. Want a storm so badly.

Asshole in Beemer tailgates me. P!nk Stupid Girls on radio, (Pretty, will you fuck me girl, Turn around I’ll suck it girl) Flip off Beemer dude as he passes me.

Ipod unplugged.

Radio is set to Froggy 95 and Life is a Highway plays.

I’m heading through the Alleghany Mountain Tunnel with the biggest grin on my face. Life is a highway, I wanna ride it all night long.

She’s so Mean by Matchbox 20 comes on. It makes me giggle. Roger says it was written for me. I told him maybe, but you don’t need to hit me to make me cum. Har!

I make it to I70. Cross the Mason Dixon Line. Cross the Potomac and then I’m in West Virginia.

Berkeley Springs is like Charlevoix or Petosky in Up North Michigan. It’s beautiful.

And then I’m there. At our beautiful cabin, er house in the woods. I see Tracy and Curt. Tracy runs to me. I run to her. We don’t cry. We just gaze at one another in wonder. I haven’t seen her in 28 years, and she is just as beautiful. If not more. We hug, we laugh, we smile like idiots. All the while Curt stands on the balcony and takes pictures of us. What a beautiful journey this turned out to be.