Thursday, July 30, 2015

{ fishbowls + portholes } - writer. observer. austin, tx

There is smoke rolling from an open window.
It's 4pm and the sheets are rumpled in a passionate way.
There is a porthole that exposes nothing but a reflection.
Cheers above a coffee table and they scatter to the noisy street.
So many stories, they go up and they fill my mind.
Lights turn on and others turn off.
Stairwells and picture frames trying to feel like home.
Broken promises and futures unknown float in the air like bad perfume.
It's 8pm and who knows what the truth is.
The later is gets the fewer there are to see but they are certainly more vivid.
If you have an imagination and empathy they may break your heart.
Who knows what the fish see when they look out.

Thursday, July 16, 2015

{ the great fire } - yogi. music lover. thinker. austin, tx

Sometimes I do this thing where I replay a song...continually for hours.
Same song, over and over.
A song will strike me, beg to be played again and then it deepens.
It digs into the fibers of my mind, I'm humming it on the trail, singing in the store, anxious to play it again.
I have to start turning it up really loud to feel the musical vibration and let the words permeate my bones.
I'm convinced there is a healing magic in music.
Perhaps it's the connection to someone who makes melody and shares words to match my emotion.
I get stuck in the loop and the beautiful tune pulls my heart through my eyes and down my cheeks.
I coast down hills and swirl around curves and the music pushes me on.
The door closes and the volume goes up.
Repeat.

Thursday, July 9, 2015

{ the smallest } - yogi. writer. lover. daughter. austin, tx

He looked up at her and his grin suggested he wanted to know all her secrets.
Weeks later she could see the threat that they imposed on his world.
She's the fragrance you lift your nose to catch in the breeze.
Her hair is what you crave to curl your fingers into as you pull her close.
You'd know her stride from more than a block away.
You blush at the sound of her voice through the phone.
But her heart can't be yours even if she's willing.
You'd dive head first into her bathwater to have her on your skin.
If she could be carried in your shirt pocket you'd tuck her away there.
Just to feel her snuggled next to your chest and humming her strange song.
She is no trinket, not a thing to be bought or held.
There is fire beneath her skin.
She warned him not to stoke it.
Now they'll both burn.

Wednesday, July 1, 2015

{ when i looked ahead } yogi. artist. lover. austin, tx

"What do you see when you close your eyes and think of the future?"

I answered exactly what I saw, I told her that I saw myself and my girls were there too. Then I said there was a dark haired baby. Oh god how hard this was.

"And are you happy?"

With apprehension I admitted that we all looked very happy. Why was it so hard to see myself full of joy?

"Tell me where you, the girls, and the baby with dark hair are and what you are doing."

I knew I had to keep being honest and open and saying what I saw. Well I said, we are outside someplace. It was the only answer I had because the location was so unfamiliar.
There were no stand out features, I just knew we were outdoors because I could feel the sun on my shoulders and a breeze against my neck.

"What are you doing?" She prodded once again.

A tear spilled from my eye and left a warm path down my cheek. I told her what I was doing in the future, I was painting.
I was outside, with my loves all around me and I was painting some silly picture and I was sublimely happy.

Monday, June 29, 2015

{ time travel } yogi. mama. writer. photographer. austin, tx

I woke up to harsh light and a tender touch.
It was so early and I didn't understand why I was being taken out of bed.
Everyone was in the living room, sitting on the blue sheet with white daisies.
There were finger foods spread out like a picnic.
What time was it?
I was so young I couldn't really conceive of time anyway.
The den was so dark and our tan bodies were making alien outlines against the light linens.
When I ate a grape it soured as it mingled with the toothpaste still fresh in my mouth.
Still blurry eyed and confused I spit it out.
They laughed and I didn't really know why, but I liked the attention.
Why was everyone else so alert?
What family was this, all together and in the semi-dark.
I liked them a lot, enough to bottle them like this in my mind forever.
Gangly and a little pushy, but close knit and smiling.
I wished that the food tasted better.
Eventually it started to be clear and still made no sense.
This middle-of-the-night feast was completely spontaneous, a wild hare my mom had.

It remains one of my favorite childhood memories of all time.

Sunday, June 28, 2015

{ a good man and a good woman } - yogi. child. writer. lover. austin, tx

She loved to sit in her chair and watch Jeopardy! with her feet up.
Her laugh was ridiculous and contagious.
I always had to look at her face when they argued, and her mischievous sparkling eyes gave her away.
They may have fought, but I never saw a real one.

He liked to grumble and murmur while he puttered around.
When he made his way to his chair near her it wasn't long before his head would drop and his snores began.

After he passed we were sitting there one afternoon and she looked around at their living room, took it in.
With a sigh she said to me "you know he used to come home every day and call out to me "Sally, I'm home!" just to let me know so I wouldn't be surprised. Now I'm never going to hear "Sally I'm home" again." With that the room fell silent. I don't really know if I was the only one there, but I remember it as just the two of us. I had no words to give her back, simply admiration and a heart full of hope that I'd one day know that great of a love.

Me-Maw, you made life more fun.
Thank you for giving me Twix and Hersey with almonds.
It's because of you that I have my name and my love of pineapple juice.
Your humor and strong nature inspire me.
Nothing compares to the way you loved your man and your boys.
Sometimes I secretly wished I had been a boy so I'd feel that special.
I felt spoiled when you took me shopping.
You made the best chicken spaghetti and chili with rice.
When you introduced me as "my namesake" I felt proud.
I know you're foggy now and it's hard to remember me.
I tell your stories to my girls and I try to do the special things just like you.
You gave me baby oil after a bath and Buttered Pecan ice cream.
I watched Winnie The Pooh and To Kill A Mockingbird with you.
If I had my way I would sit with you and ask you all my burning questions...

"Tell me how y'all met and all the good things that come from loving someone for a lifetime."

I remember the last thing you said to me about him, "he was a good, good man."

Me-Maw, you are one really good woman.

Friday, June 26, 2015

{ conversation } yogi. lover. mama. photographer. austin, tx.

When we talked it was flawless, like feeding quarters to a slot machine I thought eventually I'd win.
You gave back then held back, repeat.
You looked me in the eyes and said to me "we have to communicate, that's the only way this will work."
Hesitantly I acknowledged and agreed to share even the most uncomfortable and minute of details.

"I don't know what just happened, but I promised to to tell you if something ever bothered me and...well...that did."

I kept my word. I felt childish and petty, but I told you when something wasn't right.
Time ticked and life kept going, I was happy, ignorantly happy.
"Babe, can you come in here, we need to talk."

I can't write dialogue for this because it never happened.
It ends with questions and only questions.

Thursday, June 25, 2015

{ cry to the stars } - yogi. mama. photographer. lover. writer. austin, tx

I dressed up in two pair of sweat pants and a flannel shirt and laid myself down in the front yard.
I looked up to the sky and she danced for me in her sparkling skirt of stars.
The grass damp against my back and dreams so alive in my mind.
I watched her twirl and the stars fell from her garment and spilled down my cheeks.
I wiped the shimmer away with the back of my hand and cuff of my shirt.
To be so young and feel so much was a challenge.
I could get lost in the vast darkness, I believed the grass would consume me.
Headlights turned down our drive and my reverie was banished by high beams.
The sky always calls me, she holds open her arms to understand my mystery and emotion.
It was that first night in the lawn of the country house that I let her hold me, and I understood my favorite song.

Wednesday, June 24, 2015

{ feng shui } - yogi. mama. wanderer. writer. austin, tx.

There are people who know exactly why they like what they like.
Sometimes I know, most of the time it's strictly opinion I can't define.
I always know.
Some things just don't belong around me and I get irritated by the thought.
The pink dresser had to go and the bookcase should've been gone over two years ago.
This is a chance to begin with things that truly make me happy, things that feel good.
I've named her Haven and I'm mama in the nest.
The feeling is warm and light, the scent is intoxicating.
Every surface offers new sensation to your touch.
Luminous and graceful, she'll draw you in.
Her vibe is strong and comforting.
It's so hard to get everything just right, it may take a while.
Until it's the way I want it, less is most certainly more.
I've pruned and picked, I won't let anything near her until my heart says "yes!"
What these walls will see and hear will be bliss, happy people, mad love, and soft hearts.
Welcome home love, it's taken a long time to get here, but you did it.
Allow in only the purest of brilliance and let love flow out with abandon.

Tuesday, June 23, 2015

{ pushing } - mama. yogi. writer. photographer. austin, tx

I push, it's kind of my "thing."
I'm pushing myself to write this now.
She called me a bull in a china cabinet more times than I can remember.
Strong willed, stubborn, hard headed, difficult, they all made the cut.

I'm not discontent, I push because I'm passionate.
Even passion needs to be tempered, so I'm pushing myself to slow down and be mindful.
I took deep breath yesterday and today was graceful.
Still there was the same old me saying "go, go, go...you can do anything."
I like my determination and guts.
I haven't enjoyed the fine tuning at all times but I can see the reason.
It's only because of this self-pressure that I am here today.
I'm living a life that I love and none of it happened by luck.

I want to delete. God this writing is hard, but again I made a promise and I won't quit.

When I brought each of my daughters into this world the effort seemed like teamwork.
I think that's what life is about, finding those who will hold on when the pressure comes.
We are like caterpillars who are lucky enough to go through chrysalis with a partner.
Through life and experience I'm learning more about when to accept that I can't force everything.
More importantly, that I don't want to.