My Collage 

A hodgepodge of photos in frames
make up my collage
My collection of memories
haphazardly grouped together
that make a statement
of my life and family
Joined together by love
and memories
Reflected in glass and time

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Too Close? Hmm…

When Dad died in 1995, Bernard Jr and I saw a counselor because my son was so hurt and angry at Dad for deserting him, and just couldn’t “process” all his conflicting emotions. The sessions were difficult to schedule and attend because I had no leave due to using it all up because of ankle surgery in January of that year. If I couldn’t get an evening appointment (which was rare) I had my pay docked when Bernie and I went during the work day.

I did manage to learn some things that helped me, such as It’s ok to be selfish because if you don’t take care of you, you can’t take care of anyone else. The counselor also said Bernie and I were too close, which bothered me for the longest time because I felt like I was destroying his life or future, but as time past (and we connected with Bernard Sr’s family) I realized Southerners do seem to be closer than Northerners.

Anyway I digress from my story… My son and his wife have split and I can only imagine how he feels. It’s been about a month and Bernie’s slowly opening up and talking with me. I’m trying to keep my mouth shut (which ain’t easy,) but as I learned from my divorce: There’s always enough blame to go around for everybody. 

Bernie and I ate out Thanksgiving Day and he was going to borrow my car to run errands on Friday, but his plans changed so he stayed here with me Friday night and returned to Dothan Saturday. 

He stated that he’s seen me more in the last month than throughout his 6 years with Alexa. (Sometimes that’s what happens when you’re trying to appease people). I “jokingly” told him, “You can come up here and sleep any time.” Sometimes ya just gotta know you can come home. Onward…

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With pen in hand I sit here
and force these jumbled emotions
onto paper.

Pain, fear, dissapointment, despair still haunt me since the news of Bernard Jr. and Alexa’s marriage demise.

Was it just them? Was it me?
How could this be?

To think they may be grateful
for being childless sears my heart, but I understand.

So I bury my pain as best I can
and counsel if asked for advice.
For in the end, it’s their lives
and to that, I must adjust.

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The Plastic Blues

Sigh and wave goodbye
as you press the send button
to make your creditors richer
and you poorer.

Each month you say you’ll “cut back” but then the car breaks down
or cooking another meal
makes you want to vomit

So out comes that piece of plastic
to make this memory “priceless”
like so many others before

If only that were true…

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Neighborhood Bliss

A quiet neighborhood 

Filled with children’s laughter cause

A cop lives next door 

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Mud Stomp

My stomping through mud

You ask me why I do it

It’s therapeutic 

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I sit and stare at blank paper

or empty computer screen

trying to create words 

out of jumbled feelings

engulfing me.

Sometimes I manage 

to accomplish my goals

of word and image creation.

Other days are spent 

languishing away the time

searching and waiting 

for tomorrow.

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