Mother, in your life
did we honor your efforts?
Not nearly enough.
Only when you left
could we see your worth, your love
so ingrained was it.
Do we mark our breaths
or the beating of our hearts?
You were everything.
We give you this day
however insufficient
filled with all our love.
I miss you, Mom.
Someone should have told me all those years ago
When fevered toddlers ruled the day and all they said was no!
That too soon would they be grown and gone
And the tasks we hastened through all done
Memories were being made yet I grumbled, griped, and whined
About their childish faults and the endless daily grind.
I had no idea that second chances were not guaranteed
That time would pass by in a flash and my regrets would only feed
On recollections of opportunities lost, never to be regained
My heart aches for the past and the memories we should have made.
Peace, people.
(Note: If you’ve happened upon my blog this evening for the first time, I’m chronicling an epic (for me) road trip that began on February 17, and will hopefully conclude on March 6, when I’m reunited with my husband, Studly Doright, and my two kitties, Patches and Scout.)
Somehow I survived the rodeo and related events on Thursday night. With a heavy heart–at least a nine pounder, I left my brother’s home in Houston and headed three and a half hours south to see Studly Doright’s eldest sibling, the beauteous Lyn, who lives near Corpus Christie with her husband, Mike.
Mike is dealing with some serious health issues right now, but he’s tough as an old Texas boot, and I have every confidence he’ll recover fully. I just needed to go and give him a kick in the rear to facilitate his healing. He’ll thank me later.
I stayed the night with Lyn and made her buy me breakfast at Hester’s, a great bakery in Corpus Christie, before I dropped her off at the hospital where Mike is a reluctant guest. It was hard to leave her there. My heart gained an extra pound.
From the hospital I drove the overwhelming distance of 35 miles where I met my cousin Diane for coffee in Rockport. Diane and her husband have relocated to this Texas coastal town from California, and we hadn’t seen each other in years.
We didn’t get to visit long, but it did my heart good to see her. Our first comments to each other were exclamations of how much we looked like our respective mothers. Again I said a sad goodbye and resumed my trip. My heart weighs at least 15 pounds at this point.
Finally I set my GPS to take me home. Of course I needed to stop for lunch–heavy hearts need extra calories–and came across a little barbecue place in the middle of nowhere.
The pig statue at Auntie Jo’s Barbecue beckoned to me and soon I was enjoying a pulled pork sandwich.
This kitty kept me company as I ate. I might’ve snuck her a few bites from my sandwich. We bonded.
With lunch over I became serious about finding my way back to Doright Manor. The GPS informed me that I had 13 hours of driving ahead of me. With that in mind I set a goal to get at least half that distance behind me before stopping for the night.
I almost made it, too! Unfortunately I ran out of daylight around the city of Lafayette, Louisiana. My night vision has never been great, but lately it is awful.
Tomorrow I still have roughly seven hours to go before I get to see Studly and the cats. Tonight I’m tucked into a hotel bed, watching The People v. OJ Simpson on TV after having dined sumptuously on Taco Bell fare. Ah, the glamorous life!
Good thoughts for Mike’s recovery and for safe travels will be greatly appreciated.
Peace, people!
there you are
the mythical man;
although, your photo is dated two years past.
it must be
genetic wisdom
our lofty foreheads, near mirror imaged
faces.
ideas of you
ephemeral then
almost mythical in scope to the child I
was.
always wedged
in a crevasse deep
somewhere outside my heart, yet within
me.
no hero;
you never answered.
i fantasized your presence; you never
came.
you can’t know
how often i’ve wondered
would you have loved me if you’d stuck
around?
peace, people.
Written in response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt:
Roaring Laughter
What was the last thing that gave you a real, authentic, tearful, hearty belly laugh? Why was it so funny?
Not this past Christmas, but the one before, Studly Doright and I met our kids and grandkids in Nashville, Tennessee, for the holiday. Our son and his family live in Texas. Our daughter and her family reside in Illinois. Studly and I are in Florida, so it’s a treat when we can all be together.
Rather than stay in a hotel we rented a home for the week, and made it into a temporary Doright Manor. We had a first rate time cooking and eating and playing games with the grown kids and grandkids.
One night, though, we sat the kids down in front of a movie in one room while in another the grownups played the game Cards Against Humanity. There might have been a bit of drinking involved. And by a bit, I mean copious amounts of liquor were consumed.
Our son-in-law, Stephen, having moonlighted as a bartender, knows how to mix a drink and soon had us all giggling like school children even before we started playing the game. Then the competition began.
Now if you’ve never played Cards Against Humanity you have no idea what you’re missing out on. I laughed so hard that tears rolled down my face–deep, strong belly laughs that caused my jaws and cheeks to ache well into the next week.
If laughter truly was the best medicine the Doright family could have cured every disease known to man that week. Instead, we just had a wicked good time.
Peace, people!
Caution–the game is not for the easily offended. There are references to body parts and bodily functions that aren’t often mentioned in polite company. Of course Studly and I never were much for polite company.
a door left wide open, perhaps a precipice.
step right in; leap heedlessly into
the dark abyss.
instead i demurred, chose the status quo,
and now we face the consequence, but how was i to know?
guarded portal closed, shut for all these years,
yet if it should swing wide again i’m bound to face my fears.
your progeny are ill behaved, i’ll say,
disrespectful to all but you;
the interest compounded throughout their lives steadily accrues.
or maybe i’ll just smile and nod, agree with all you say,
waiting there by an exit narrowed, and again, watch you walk away.
family
grounded in
roots,
love,
shared stories,
this one
heartbreaking
because it is true:
a family torn
asunder by
petulant
offshoots,
self-serving
jealousies.
pride,
malignancy
masquerading as
balm,
soothing,
perpetually
bandaging wounds
that we refuse
to let mend
seeking
retribution in
place of healing.
Tips? We don’t need no stinkin’ tips.
Dear family and friends
It’s time once again
To regale you with tales of our year
So without further ado
Here’s our card to you
The little folks we hold so dear:
My husband climbed Mount Everest
Armed with only a flashlight and pen
There’s a parade planned in his honor
If he ever climbs down again.
Our children are both quite successful
As one might expect they would be
Just one notch ahead on the ladder
Of whatever your kids have achieved.
The grandkids, of course, are the smartest,
Most beautiful, bravest, and best,
Whatever they do they earn straight A’s
And live life with unquenchable zest.
As for me, well I’ve remained humble
Through all of the accolades and praise,
With my good looks and sweet disposition
I’m still approachable on odd numbered days.
Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays!
And as always, Peace, people!
Our illustrious family at Christmas in Nashville last year.
Most of our family. Our daughter-in-law Liz isn’t pictured.
Here’s our son and beautiful daughter-in-law, lest you think we don’t allow any photos of her.
Praying for Eyebrowz Copyright 2015 by Leslie Noyes.
Dearest Readers,
Sometimes real life intrudes on my blogging world. Studly Doright becomes David and Nana (Leslie) has to speak her mind:
We had dinner a week ago with a lovely couple at David’s office Christmas party. I’d met them briefly before, but at this dinner we were seated next to them. We had a great time getting to know one another. They were both near our age, raising a blended family, some kids grown, others still at home.
David called a few minutes ago to tell me the husband had just died. He couldn’t tell me more at the moment.
So one week ago this man was a vital, living human being with hopes and dreams and a beautiful family. No one could have predicted he’d be gone on this date.
Whatever petty grudges you’re clinging to. Whatever perceived slights. Get past them. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed and your pride won’t keep you warm.
Not a one of us is without blame in this life. We’ve wronged others and we’ve been wronged. “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us” rings a bell.
Pick up that phone. Call your sister. Call your brother, your mother, your dad, your niece or nephew, your child. You don’t even have to say you’re sorry. Just say, “I love you.”
Peace, people.
Praying for Eyebrowz Copyright 2015 by Leslie Noyes.
Our Christmas tree is lovely. As I sit here meditating on its beauty I can’t help but think of all of the wonderful events my family celebrates in December, all the reasons my Christmas stocking is full.
Our oldest grandson, Garrett, celebrated his 13th birthday on December 6. He’s still Nana’s little boy, though.
My mother’s birthday would have been the 7th. She was the undisputed Queen of Christmas and I miss her every day even though we seldom saw eye to eye. She’s probably busy filling stockings for all the angels in heaven. Stockings were her thing, now they’re my thing.
December 19 would have been Mom and Dad’s anniversary. This is my favorite photo of the two of them. They never had much in the way of material wealth; although, they enjoyed some comfortable years.
Another happy day, December 20, 2010, the date Stephen Houzenga adopted our grandchildren. He took on a ready-made family and changed all of our lives for the better.
Of course December 25 is a day of celebration. Last year Studly and I were able to enjoy it with our kids in Nashville. We rented a home there for the holiday and had one of the best Christmases in memory.
Here we are at The Escape Game. What an adventure! We almost escaped. All we needed was another hour or so….
Finally, our middle grandchild, McKayla, celebrates her birthday on the 26th. She’ll be 11 this year. Here she is about to perform in her first band concert. Gorgeous, smart, and talented.
I hope your Christmas stockings are filled with great memories and reasons to celebrate.
Peace, people!
Praying for Eyebrowz 