Shadows of Nostalgia Part II

To hell with it, I thought. I bought a pack of cigarettes and told my husband we should go out for karaoke on Thursday night. The restlessness took over, pulling on the edges of a gypsy spirit’s coat. Pub food and a few (or more) drinks sounded like the remedy and it isn’t often that I am off work early enough to venture out to the bar.

So, in jeans, a burgundy Stevie Nicks-style shirt Mom got me for Christmas and my leather jacket, walking into the pub felt like coming home. It wasn’t our bar, it never will be, yet the familiar faces were a lovely greeting as were their hugs. A delightful warmth in December’s chill.

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Shadows of Nostalgia

I miss knowing who I was going to be; being so damn sure of myself and fearless. That fierce young girl with aching dreams and a restless spirit ready to fly down that highway, as far away as possible. Taking a first drag of that cigarette from the guy who eventually broke my heart with possessiveness and narcissism two years later. A back porch, surrounded by lilac bushes and a sky so forever blue it felt like nothing could cloud it over. Mountains towering in the distance. Small town dreams floating over purple petals and monotony. Whether he stayed or not didn’t matter to me. He never could keep up with a rebellious spirit.

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2016: A Million Reasons for Reflections

When there’s a million reasons to give up, sometimes you must take a detour. Life isn’t always going to go as planned. That seems to be what many are taking from 2016, aside from it being the year most of us don’t want to talk about.

It is with a relieved finality that I sit back in my favourite chair tonight with a cup of tea, letting Christmas Day fade out. This past week seemed to drag. I got the ashes of my beloved dog, Spunky, on Friday. It was bizarre to celebrate the holidays with my family without him there after 16 years. My mother put a picture of him and me from 2007 into a frame with a note that said to smile every time I looked at it, and to keep it near me when I write. It currently sits on the shelf beside my writing perch in the living room. Sitting down to write has been difficult without him lying under the coffee table in his usual spot.

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Goodbye old friend…and 2016

The older I get, the more the holiday season feels like hitting a brick wall repeatedly. Especially after the stormy year that has been 2016. Writing inspiration has been drained for months, hence the blog updates slid to a halt back in August. My grandmother-in-law passed away at the beginning of November, which was difficult for the whole family. To top off the heaving sorrow already settled in like snow drifts tonight, I had to goodbye to a beloved furry friend on Friday night.

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Poetry Friday ~ Screams Silent as Ashes

Time ran out, leaving ashes on the wind.
Whispers of what was said before,
lost to lingering flames atop
the home that once stood,
anger a monster living within
by the time you were finished.

Sombrous screams
silenced by agonizing thrusts of pain.
Mystic’s smoke livid in darkened skies.
You did this once. You threw me around. 
You did that twice. You beat me to nothing. 
You did something else thrice. You held me down
as I screamed …

Ashes
on the wind. 
Ashes
forevermore.
Ashes;
no matter how I try, the sky is still afire,
the mirror still broken where it fell. 

I tried to pretend
it wasn’t happening, but they knew.
Slices along my wrist,
bloodstains on your hands.
They looked away.

Blood
where it hurt the most.
Blood;
crimson stained on the floors.
Blood;
I didn’t know what else to do.

No matter how I try, I can’t hold it back anymore.
Sometimes strength is in what you say
after so many years, and sometimes it’s
in what remains
silent
like ashes.

This poem can be found in my poetry collection about child abuse and domestic violence, Melting Candles“. 

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Musings ~ Window Shopping

Window shopping

This quote struck me today, while I was mindlessly scrolling through Facebook. I read it once. Tilted my head. Read it a second time and wondered it seemed to scream at me. Window shopping. Life. Aren’t we all window shopping for a different life than the one we’ve got? Don’t we all go strolling down that random avenue of shops and boutiques from time to time? One read leads you to where you are but there are always other windows to peer into as though the other side of the glass is somehow better than what you’ve already got. Sometimes it’s an illusion.

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