The connecting bathroom was bigger than any Cassidy had seen in her life. The long granite countertop sparkled under the many lights. There were tiny soaps, and bottles of creams and lotions on the counter as well as small bottles of shampoos and conditioners. The tub itself was huge, and took up the majority of the room. It was long and deep with what looked to Cassidy as jets. On the back of the door was a long thick robe that screamed comfort.
Heaving a sigh, Cassidy walked back into the room and walked to the window. There was a cozy leather chair facing the window, and she slumped down into it, sinking into the cushions. She pulled her knees to her chest, and with tired eyes watched the world outside her window.
Cassidy woke to a knock at the door. For just a moment she wasn’t sure where she was, and then it all came flooding back to her. The knock came again at her door, and she opened it to see Westly.
“Hello there. I’m terribly sorry to wake you, but it’s time we get to the hospital now.”
Realizing she was standing in a door way, she pushed away to let him enter, “Of course, I’m sorry, I must have been more tired than I thought. I know I may seem selfish, as I haven’t even asked about Chelsea, but to be honest, I barely know her.” She fumbled with her shoes, as she stood to put them on. Walking to the door, then running back to grab her purse, she finally gave Westly a helpless smile, “I suppose I’m ready.”
To Cassidy, all hospitals looked and smelled the same. If she thought hard, she could remember what it was like when her mother was in one. She walked down the hall towards the elevators that would lead her up to her sister’s floor. Once out of the elevator, she slowly walked towards a nurse’s station to request her sister’s room.
“Hello, I’m looking for my sister.” Her barely audible whisper caught the attention of only one of the nurses.
“Who is it you’re here to see?” The nurse, a large black woman with a very loud voice demanded.
“Uh…I’m here to see…” She fumbled with the slip of paper that stated her sister’s name, “Gina Coy. I’m her sister. I was told that she was here…”
“Ah, you must be Cassidy. I’ll need your identification card, please, and we’ll get Dr. Kline for you.” The nurse waved another nurse along to find the doctor, as she efficiently jotted down Cassidy’s information in a guest log book.
Handing the ID card back to Cassidy, the nurse eyed her cautiously. “My name is Pearl. I’ll be here during your visit and will answer questions for you. Dr. Kline will need you to fill out a lot of paperwork.”
Cassidy mearly nodded her head in acknowledgement when she was the other nurse returning with a very tall man. Dr. Kline was 7 feet tall with sandy blond hair, and the greenest eyes Cassidy had ever seen. He towered over her, and made her feel very small, and unsure of herself.
“Miss Keaton. I’m Dr. Kline. I’ve been taking care of your sister for you. It you’ll please come this way, I’ll take you in to see her.” Gesturing her to follow, Dr. Kline lead Cassidy down a long white hallway to a door with a very bored security guard standing watch. “This is Cassidy Keaton, the patience’s sister.” At the nod of the guard, Dr. Kline walked into the room.
Slowly, Cassidy walked to the bed where her sister lay. She studied the still, quiet form, and tried to remember her as her sister. Chelsea’s hair was platinum blond, the kind that was more white than gold. Her cheeks were hollow, and sunk in. She had very dark circles surrounding, what Cassidy remembered were very blue eyes. She slowly took in the face of the sister she didn’t remember and let a single tear flow over her cheek.
“I’m sorry, Doctor, I just don’t know her, not this woman. My sister is still fifteen years old in my mind, and this is a stranger to me. Please, can you tell me what happened, and why I’m here?”
Dr. Kline studied the woman in front of him, and knew what it was like to feel bewildered and lost. He motioned to a set of chairs in the far corner of the room, and sat.
“Your sister has had an apparent drug overdose. We have done all that we can for her at this time, and if she makes it through this alive, it’ll be a miracle. You were called here by your sister’s lawyers, as you’ve been listed as executive of her estate, and will be in control of her finances, and will be the person to make final decisions regarding your sister. We had to do surgery when she arrived here to remove the baby she was carrying, and at this time, that child is in NICU under strict supervision. It appears that the child will indeed make it, and you’ll be responsible for what happens to her.” Dr. Kline placed his hand over Cassidy’s when he saw her mouth fall open. “I know this is hard for you, and I know it’s got to be a complete shock, but you are the only family listed, and there is no father that we can find for the child.”
“Can…can I see the baby?” Glancing towards the bed where her sister lay, Cassidy continued, “I can’t picture Chelsea with a baby. She never wanted them, and if she came in here from a drug overdose, she didn’t intend to keep this one. Tell me, is the baby addicted?”
“I can tell you that we found only very slight traces of drugs in the infant’s system. It appears that perhaps your sister wasn’t doing the drugs during pregnancy and it’s speculated from her agent that perhaps she was depressed. I have a full statement from her agent upon her arrival, but I can say that I don’t think he’s very credible. He’s known to introduce his stars to drugs, and dangles it over their heads in order to get them to continue doing his bidding.”
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Cassidy's Curse
Chelsea Dionne Keaten was born in a small town in East Texas, with no money, and a father who left her mother during pregnancy. Her whole life she struggled to be more than what she was born into, and somehow, she'd made it to Hollywood. The beautiful buxom blond, with stunning blue eyes, and a sex kitten mouth. She'd started her career, by posing in nude magazines, and having sex with various men, and sometimes women, for the porn industry. It was during that time that she met Gary Shantz.
Shantz was known around Hollywood as a hard nosed, cocaine addicted, tough guy, who somehow managed to find washed up hookers acting jobs in legit films. It was on the set her latest conquest, that he discovered Chelsea Keaton, and her beautiful, if somewhat used, body. It was Shantz who introduced the white powder to Chelsea, and it was Shantz who found her unconscious, face covered in white powder and naked as the day she was born.
"There's no need to worry, Miss. I was assured that you'll be staying here, and all of your expenses will be paid by your sister's account. I'll have you escorted to your suite, and I'll be back in an hour to take you to the hospital. I'm sure you'd want to see her." Westly gave her name to the desk clerk, while Cassidy stood staring at everything around her. She barely noticed that a bell hop had been given her luggage, and she was being ushered towards a giant elevator with gleeming mirrors.
Shantz was known around Hollywood as a hard nosed, cocaine addicted, tough guy, who somehow managed to find washed up hookers acting jobs in legit films. It was on the set her latest conquest, that he discovered Chelsea Keaton, and her beautiful, if somewhat used, body. It was Shantz who introduced the white powder to Chelsea, and it was Shantz who found her unconscious, face covered in white powder and naked as the day she was born.
****************************************
Cassidy's phone rang at 3:00 in the morning waking her from a rather pleasant dream where she was just about to start a sexy lip lock with Johnny Depp. She fumbled for the light, and cursed when she knocked the phone off the night table. With her eyes closed, and still picturing the gorgeous Johnny Depp, she finally answered the phone with a very gruff mumble.
"Is this Cassidy Dawn Keaton," a rather prim voice came through the phone.
"Yes...um, yes, this is Cassidy. Who is this?"
"Miss Keaton, this is Beverly Mace with the Las Angeles Police Department. Apparently, your sister has been found unconscious from an apparent drug overdose. At this time, she's alive-"
"I beg your pardon, my sister?"
"Yes, you do have a sister, one Chelsea Dean also known as Chelsea Keaton, don't you?"
"Yes, of course, I'm sorry, you just caught me by surprise. I haven't heard from or seen my sister in about 12 years. Please, tell me what happened again." Sitting up in her bed, she pulled the comforter to her chin for comfort, more than warmth.
"Ms. Keaton was found at approximately 11:30 pm last night. She's currently in Intensive Care at the Las Angeles Hope Hospital, under an alias name of Gina Coy. As of this time, she's listed in stable condition. Miss Keaton, I'm sorry, but the doctors asked that her next of kin be called in; they don't expect her to make it."
"Oh my God." Tears ran unnoticed down Cassidy's cheeks as she tried to remember the sister that she never really had. They'd shared a womb together, but other than that, had virtually nothing in common. Cassidy wanted a family, love, children, and a stable home; whereas Chelsea wanted adventure, money, and fame. "Um, I will be on the next plane there. Where is she again?" Stumbling to her desk, she found three pencils with broken lead, and a pen with no ink before she finally found a highlighter that semi worked. She jotted down directions and address, and a phone number to call when she arrived. Hanging up the phone, she turned on her computer as she mentally shifted her finances around trying to come up with the money for the trip. Her rich and famous sister had conveniently forgotten all about her family when she ran away from home at 15, and had never sent a cent home to her mother or sister.
Grabbing her comforter from her bed, Cassidy plopped down onto a rather abused 1970's orange chair, and pulled her lap top onto her lap. She scanned the screen as she searched for the earliest flight to Las Angeles, and cringed at the prices. I'm going to have to ask for an advance for this one....Charles is NOT going to be happy. Thinking ahead, and mentally preparing herself for the lecture, she dialed Charles Finnegan's home number, then winced at the gruff sound of sleep interrupted.
"Mr. Finnegan...uh...this is Cassidy, I'm sorry to wake you, but I have an emergency."
"Eh? Cassie? Do you know what time it is?" The sound in his voice led her to believe that he still wasn't aware that he was actually talking on the phone.
"Yes, I'm so sorry. Look, it's my sister, she's in the hospital. I have to go to her."
"Ah. Cass, I'm coming up."
The sound of the phone being disconnected cut off any protest Cassidy could think of. With a sigh, she hung up the phone and stalked to the door.
Charles Finnegan was 62 years old, and had lived in Texas his entire life. He'd worked hard to build his book store, and had led a life of adventure, even if it was all in books. Age didn't slow Charles down, and it certainly didn't show on his face. He was short for a man, about 5'6, and robust, with a small ring of bright red hair wrapped around his otherwise bald head. He had a full red beard, and both hair and beard were finally beginning to thread with silver. His soft green eyes were surrounded by faint wrinkles and supported by rosy, almost cherubic cheeks. He claimed his daily pipe filled with black cherry tobacco kept him young, that and the shot of Irish Whiskey he had every night before bed. He's married young, and was still in love with his wife as though they'd just met. They were never blessed with children of their own, and took it upon themselves to help those who didn't have parents. He'd adopted 5 children all together, and had raised each one to be strong, good people. He was the proud grandfather of 14 grandchildren, all of varying ages, and felt the need to share photos with any stranger passing by.
He'd hired Sandra10 years before as a clerk for his bookstore, and with Sandra, came Cassidy. He'd remembered how young she was, and how he introduced her to the magical worlds that existed between the cover of a book. When her mother died 3 years later, he took Cassidy in without so much as a thought, and yet the girl still insisted on calling him Mr. Finnegan.
He huffed up the stairs on the outside of his bookstore up to the one bedroom apartment he rented to Cassidy. Through the curtain he saw her pacing the rooms, and from the looks of it, causing a disaster of a mess in the process. He didn't bother to knock, and just opened the door, inwardly cursing the girl for never locking the door.
"Cassie, you didn't lock the door again. Come now girl, what seems to be the problem? What's this about your sister?" He sat heavily onto a tattered wooden chair and patted the mate next to him.
"I..I got a call from Las Angeles. My sister, Chelsea, well, it seems that she's overdosed, and they requested I come there. I don't know what to do Mr. Finnegan, I haven't seen her since we were 15." Looking around the room at the mess she'd made, and the half packed suitcase, Charles heaved a sigh, and stood to face her.
"Cassie, my girl, what do you need? If it's money, all you have to do is ask, and you know that."
Cassidy blew a breath between her lips, causing her bangs to fly. "Yes, I know, but it's just not fair! If I'd gotten that book deal, instead of another decline letter...well, that's neither here nor there. Mr. Finnegan, I need to go to her."
Patting her hand, Charles grinned up at her, "You know, I remember when you were a bit shorter than me. Yes, you'll have the money. Come down in the morning, and I'll have it for you. Don't forget to call when you get there, and if there's anything you'll be needing, well, I'm here."
Cassidy leaned down to hug the only father she'd ever known, and kissed his already red cheek. "You do know I love you, don't you?"
"Yeah, yeah, if you loved me you'd stop calling Mr. Finnegan."
At her laugh, he only grinned and headed to the door. "You best be getting some sleep, Las Angeles isn't that close, and you'll be needing your strength."
"I know, thank you....Charlie." Her whispered response caused him only a moments hesitation, and as he walked down the steps, he felt a grin spread over his face full of pride and love. What was he going to do with that girl?
*******************************************
Cassidy's first plane trip was not as she'd have expected. It seemed that the plane shook and rattled more than it flew smoothly, and she was certain that it was going to fall from the sky any minute. She was sure that she'd left indentions in the seat where she'd held on for dear life, and when the plane made it's descent, she prayed for a safe landing. Her legs wobbled as she walked from the plane to the luggage claim, and she caught herself amazed at the sheer size of the airport and all of the people crowded into it.
There were men and women in tidy suits holding up little signs with names on them, some of which she guessed were aliases for some star. She kept walking and almost walked past the little man with twinkling eyes holding a sign with her name on it.
"Excuse me, is that for me?"
The little man grinned broadly, and said in what she could only guess was a british accent, "If you're Cassidy Keaton, I'll be your driver. The name's Westly, and I'm here to take you to the hotel, and to the hospital." Westly placed his hand on the small of her back, and escorted her to the luggage area. He gently ushered her against a wall as he went in search of her luggage.
Cassidy watched the comings and goings of the people. The styles of clothing, the sounds of voices, mingled with the ringing of phones, and yells of limosine drivers attempting to gather luggage. Her eyes widened when she spotted a driver lugging what appeared to be 15 pieces of luggage behind him on a trolley. She imagined a movie star, or famous musician was the owner of that much luggage, and it most definitely had to be a female. She was about to create a story in her head when she saw Westly heading towards her with her single suitcase that still looked too new.
Her first ride in a limo was much better than her flight. She felt like a child swinging her head from side to side as if trying to take in the sights all at once. She saw big fancy hotels, and boutiques, and everyone seemed to be beautiful walking on the sidewalks. She saw what appeared to be a crowd of photographers outside a restaurant and assumed someone famous was dining inside. Before she knew it, the driver was pulling up in front of a very expensive looking hotel.
"Um, Westly, this isn't my hotel. There isn't a way I can afford a place like this." She felt her face flame with heat of embarrassment at the realization of what she'd just said.
As if he hadn't heard a word she'd said, Westly just grinned at the girl, and opened her door. Taking her hand, he gently removed her from the car, and grabbed her suitcase in the other hand.
"There's no need to worry, Miss. I was assured that you'll be staying here, and all of your expenses will be paid by your sister's account. I'll have you escorted to your suite, and I'll be back in an hour to take you to the hospital. I'm sure you'd want to see her." Westly gave her name to the desk clerk, while Cassidy stood staring at everything around her. She barely noticed that a bell hop had been given her luggage, and she was being ushered towards a giant elevator with gleeming mirrors.
The bell hop pressed at button and the doors slid silently closed. Cassidy released a breath she wasn't aware she was holding, and tried not to fidget. The doors slide open to an elegant hallway with plush carpet, and what appeared to be authentic paintings on the walls. Her door was opened, and the key placed in her hand. He was closing the door behind him, when she ran after him.
"Wait! Here, I know it's not much, or what you're used to, but...here!" Cassidy thrust the five dollar bill into his hand, and even though he was accustomed to larger, her hopeful eyes had him smiling earnestly back at her. "Thank you ma'am," and the door was closed between them.
Cassidy turned from the door and absorbed her surroundings. The room was large, with a full wall of a window that had the blinds pulled open to reveal a stunning view of the city. There was a cherry desk with writing paper, pens, and a vase filled with sunny daisies. The bed was overly large and seemed to be smothered by the pillows stacked all over it. It was draped with a very soft rose colored spread that made her want to run her hands over it just to feel the softness.
Thursday, February 1, 2007
The Escape......part 1....
The tears ran freely over her cheeks, as she stared through swollen eyes at the man who had become a monster to her. The pain that had exploded in her head was now just a dull throb compared to the seering aches that raced through the rest of her body. He stood over her now with his breath inches from her face.
"Why do you always make me hit you?" His voice whispered out as if trying to keep the neighbors from hearing. "You always do and say things that make me so angry! When will you learn that if you'd just stop making these stupid mistakes that things would get better?"
Grabbing her arms he brought her face to face with himself. When he spoke, she felt the heat of his words upon her face, "Answer me Emily!"
Her lips trembled as they parted, and she tasted blood as she tried to form the words around the cuts and bruises, "I...I...."
"I...I...what Emily? Go on and say it like a good girl so you can be forgiven."
"I'm so-sorry Michael. I...I'm sorry, it's my fault"
An evil, self satisfied grin spread on his face as he pulled her to him. "There, there, Baby doll, let daddy fix it and make it all better," he crooned over her whispering in an almost soothing voice meant to soothe a small child. Gently lifting her in his arms, he carried her to the bathroom, and placed her on the toilet seat to begin removing her clothing. He ran a bath of scented bubbles, and gently set her in the tub. She knew he enjoyed this part of his "make up" ritual, and knew that fighting him off would only ensue another onslaught of angry fists.
Closing her eyes, she felt him run a cool cloth over her face, and placing it over her eyes to soothe the ache and swelling. He always began his bathing ritual by soothing her aches, easing the swelling, and gently cleaning away the blood.
He began lathering a wash cloth as he stared down at his wife's naked form. He slowly began running the cloth over her body, tensing as he rubbed over her breasts. His hands shook as he made his descent lower, admiring her flat stomach, and the curve of her hips. He always enjoyed looking at her, his sweet Emily. He'd always loved bathing her, and watching her come alive under his hands. He felt his breath hitch as he began bathing between her legs, and almost on command he heard her soft moan of pleasure.
Emily had learned years before that if she wanted to avoid a beating, she'd better act like she enjoyed the things he did to her. There was a time when he'd charmed her, and they'd enjoyed each other as a husband and wife do. She couldn't remember when he'd changed, but it seemed as though he'd came home a different person one day, and the man she loved never returned. She fought back tears as she obediantly moaned what she hoped was a sound of pleasure as he began his seduction.
As always, he treated her like royalty after removing her from the bath. He dried her body, and began massaging creams to soften, and ointments to heal into her tender skin. His hands slid over her body, and she knew he enjoyed every inch of what he was doing. He laid her onto their bed, and began removing his clothes, as he stared hungrily down at her naked form. Emily closed her eyes, and from experience, sent her mind somewhere else to avoid the final humiliation he was about to issue.
"Why do you always make me hit you?" His voice whispered out as if trying to keep the neighbors from hearing. "You always do and say things that make me so angry! When will you learn that if you'd just stop making these stupid mistakes that things would get better?"
Grabbing her arms he brought her face to face with himself. When he spoke, she felt the heat of his words upon her face, "Answer me Emily!"
Her lips trembled as they parted, and she tasted blood as she tried to form the words around the cuts and bruises, "I...I...."
"I...I...what Emily? Go on and say it like a good girl so you can be forgiven."
"I'm so-sorry Michael. I...I'm sorry, it's my fault"
An evil, self satisfied grin spread on his face as he pulled her to him. "There, there, Baby doll, let daddy fix it and make it all better," he crooned over her whispering in an almost soothing voice meant to soothe a small child. Gently lifting her in his arms, he carried her to the bathroom, and placed her on the toilet seat to begin removing her clothing. He ran a bath of scented bubbles, and gently set her in the tub. She knew he enjoyed this part of his "make up" ritual, and knew that fighting him off would only ensue another onslaught of angry fists.
Closing her eyes, she felt him run a cool cloth over her face, and placing it over her eyes to soothe the ache and swelling. He always began his bathing ritual by soothing her aches, easing the swelling, and gently cleaning away the blood.
He began lathering a wash cloth as he stared down at his wife's naked form. He slowly began running the cloth over her body, tensing as he rubbed over her breasts. His hands shook as he made his descent lower, admiring her flat stomach, and the curve of her hips. He always enjoyed looking at her, his sweet Emily. He'd always loved bathing her, and watching her come alive under his hands. He felt his breath hitch as he began bathing between her legs, and almost on command he heard her soft moan of pleasure.
Emily had learned years before that if she wanted to avoid a beating, she'd better act like she enjoyed the things he did to her. There was a time when he'd charmed her, and they'd enjoyed each other as a husband and wife do. She couldn't remember when he'd changed, but it seemed as though he'd came home a different person one day, and the man she loved never returned. She fought back tears as she obediantly moaned what she hoped was a sound of pleasure as he began his seduction.
As always, he treated her like royalty after removing her from the bath. He dried her body, and began massaging creams to soften, and ointments to heal into her tender skin. His hands slid over her body, and she knew he enjoyed every inch of what he was doing. He laid her onto their bed, and began removing his clothes, as he stared hungrily down at her naked form. Emily closed her eyes, and from experience, sent her mind somewhere else to avoid the final humiliation he was about to issue.
*******************
The sun nearly blinded her as she opened her eyes the next morning. Heaving a sigh, she turned away from the bright promise of a new day only to find her bed empty and her cheek laying on a cool sheet of paper.
Darling Emily,
I had to go into work early this morning, and won't be back until late. Make sure you've cleaned up your little mess from last night, and keep dinner warm for me. I can not tell you how very much I love you.
Love,
Your Adoring Husband,
Michael
In disgust, she crumbled the paper into a tight ball, and threw it across her room. Slowly she climbed from her bed and took mental stock on her aches and pains. Her face felt raw, and upon inspection in the mirror, wouldn't bruise too badly. He always made sure of that. With a sigh, she dressed for the day, and set about to straighten the house.
Broken glass, and furniture littered the living room floor, and a shattered picture lay at her feet as she stepped into the messy reminder of the previous evening. Forcing back tears, she knelt onto the floor, and began the clean up.
Three hours later, Emily was standing in her kitchen tapping her now manicured nail on her coffee cup. Taking a deep breath, she glanced at the clock, noted the time, and removed the clock from the wall. Opening a small latch in the back where batteries are supposed to go, she removed the bundle of money she'd been stashing. Pocketing the money, she hung the clock exactly where it should hang, and walked to her room.
Taking a small suitcase from the closet, she began filling it with her necessities, and momentos that she wanted to keep with her. In another larger suitcase, she put her clothing. She walked through the house carrying both cases to the entrance to the garage, and opened the door. She opened the trunk of her car, placed the cases in, and quietly closed the lid. By this time, she wasn't thinking about what came next, just moving through the motions.
She walked slowly from room to room, scanning over items, and furniture. There were no tears in her eyes, as she climbed into her car, and started the engine. As she backed out of the driveway, she scanned the street to make sure he wasn't coming towards the house. She'd left no note, no reminder of herself for him to find, and she hoped to leave no trace for him to follow. Watching the garage door lower, she debated throwing her wedding rings out of the window, but decided to keep them for extra cash just in case.
The bank was empty when she pulled into the parking lot. The large sunshades hid her eyes, and she hoped, hid her intentions. She walked up to what appeared to be a friendly looking older woman behind the bank counter, and smiled at her.
"Good Morning! How may I help you today?" The clerk skimmed over Emily's face as she took in the dark glasses, and the slight bruising around a full mouth which had blood oozing from a freshly opened gash. Quietly reaching for a tissue, the clerk handed it to Emily, and pointed to her lips.
Embarrassed, Emily dabbed at the fresh blood, and whispered an apology. At the clerk's quiet smile, she felt the twinges of fear and embarrassment fade just enough away to ask for a withdrawel slip.
"Will you be able to tell me the balance on the account?" Her hand poised over the amount section as she glanced up at the clerk.
"Certainly, but if I may impose, perhaps you should come with me into the back. I have a friend I think you should speak with and she'll be able to help you get to where you need to get. I'm Beth....just Beth." The clerk gave her a quick nod of her head, and patted her hand as she spoke.
"I guess it's easy to tell why I'm here, isn't it?" Emily smiled slightly at Beth. Placing a grin on her face, Beth just slapped her closed sign on the counter, and all but bellowed, "Right this way, Mrs. Cole, and I'll be happy to show you where to open a new account."
Beth waved her along, as she briskly walked to the back of the bank, and up a flight of stairs.
Beth paused in front of a desk with a pretty blonde sitting behind it, and said, "This is Mrs. Cole here to see Jillian." The blonde smiled a welcome, and buzzed them through the door.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
The Lighthouse
The lighthouse stands alone on the cliff
shining it's light out over the sea.
Through rain, and snow, and monstrous storms
it stands to protect the sailor's fleet.
I have a secret. It's a secret love of lighthouses. The stories they hold inside them, and the mystery that lay deep inside it's heart. You can climb to the top, and on quiet nights, you can hear the moans and cries of those who didn't heed the light's warning, and continued on their path to doom. Looking down you can see the waves tearing at the cliffs, as though they were trying to tear the traitorous lighthouse down from it's peak. The sea claims the lives of those who ignore the warning, and the light stands diligently upon it's perch sending out signal after signal to warn of the danger. It's an on going battle between good, and well, not so good. The sea, she hungers, and she hungers to control all that ride upon her, but the light house never backs down and keeps another feast from the hungry sea's belly. The sea in her anger throws vicious tantrums causing the wind to howl, and the rain to tear at the lone figure on the cliffs, yet the lighthouse holds true, knowing that giving up and dying would only cause those less fortunate to fall into the depths of the sea. The lighthouse sees the dangers, and sends her signal to those travelers who pass her way. She's a lone soldier, doing her duty, sparing the lives of many who float upon the sea's fascinating surface.
shining it's light out over the sea.
Through rain, and snow, and monstrous storms
it stands to protect the sailor's fleet.
I have a secret. It's a secret love of lighthouses. The stories they hold inside them, and the mystery that lay deep inside it's heart. You can climb to the top, and on quiet nights, you can hear the moans and cries of those who didn't heed the light's warning, and continued on their path to doom. Looking down you can see the waves tearing at the cliffs, as though they were trying to tear the traitorous lighthouse down from it's peak. The sea claims the lives of those who ignore the warning, and the light stands diligently upon it's perch sending out signal after signal to warn of the danger. It's an on going battle between good, and well, not so good. The sea, she hungers, and she hungers to control all that ride upon her, but the light house never backs down and keeps another feast from the hungry sea's belly. The sea in her anger throws vicious tantrums causing the wind to howl, and the rain to tear at the lone figure on the cliffs, yet the lighthouse holds true, knowing that giving up and dying would only cause those less fortunate to fall into the depths of the sea. The lighthouse sees the dangers, and sends her signal to those travelers who pass her way. She's a lone soldier, doing her duty, sparing the lives of many who float upon the sea's fascinating surface.
Lost in Time....
It's no secret that I've been searching for something my entire life. I have a very good life, a wonderful loving husband, two smart and beautiful children, a house, a car, a job....what more could I want? Well, ever since I was a youngling, I've felt that something was missing in my life. I've never quite gotten that "complete" feeling. I used to think it was my lack of having caring parents that I missed, but over time I realized that wasn't it.
I feel as though I was born in the wrong time or in the wrong place. I travel extensively because I feel like I'm searching for something. I'm obsessed with Ireland, always have been. I'm obsessed with the East Coast, also. I don't know if it's just a driving desire to SEE these places, or if I have some secret lost connection to these places. After all, Irish are known for their lore and legends. What if I posses some innate sixth sense that is encouraging me to visit these places in order to find inner peace? Perhaps this is why I'm drawn to books about Ireland or the East Coast? Perhaps I'm just a lost soul wandering aimlessly through out time? Perhaps I've had way too much caffeine. :)
Whatever it is, I'm terribly lucky to have a man in my life who supports my adventurous cravings. He's willing to let me drag him from place to place, exploring endless possibilities, and falling in love with my surroundings.
I'd always wanted to see Hawaii, and we were married there! The island itself was surrounded by gorgeous pristine waters, and sea turtles would swim right up to humans. The mountains were topped with low laying clouds, and when the rains came it, it was a truly breathtaking site to see. Watching the waves gently lapping the shores, or crashing angrily against rocks was so mesmerizing to me. Never in my life had I ever imagined seeing something so beautiful, so untouched, so happy, and there I was during one of the happiest days of my life!
We plan on anniversaries being our "vacation" time. Unfortunately, this year it's not possible to travel, as we're working on paying off debts, getting a new car, and saving for a new home. However, for our 5th anniversary, we're hoping to travel back to Hawaii with our children in tow. How lovely would it be for them to see what their parents saw? How incredible the memories will be to see the islands again for the first time through their eyes? It'll be a great way to express our love for one another, and bring our children into our little secret world of wonder and celebrations.
We've got Ireland planned for our 10th or 15th anniversaries. A little research helped us plan that little endeavor. Did you know, that Ireland is very inexpensive? We found a cottage, fully stocked for 150 pounds a week, 3 bedroom, full kitchen, 2 bathroom, on a cliff.....what more could you ask for? Also, it's very close to one of my most desired places in County Clare near Ennis. I can't wait to just go and wake up to the sounds and smells of Ireland. How neat will it be to sit in a pub, and listen to the singers and familiar voices telling tall tales, and sharing life in Ireland? How fun would it be to ride horses along the beach, or brood over the cliffs of Mohr? How exciting will it be to wander through cemeteries and old castles and remains? My heart is beating frantically just THINKING about it.
Funny how my anniversaries are already somewhat planned. It's this adventurous side that leaves me feeling discontent. I'm a daydreamer, and I can't sit still for long periods of time. I ache to Go, Go, Go....and feel the ordinary is so mundane. It's for that reason alone, that I'm ashamed of that rebellious side of myself. I do have so much in my life, and I can't think of that gift from God as mundane. It's a blessing to have what I have, and my heart tells me so. So, even if at times I do feel a little sad for the things I have yet to do, I feel a softer contentment in the things that I have already done. Funny how as we grow, and learn, we also develop a greater sense of what life is about. I guess that is why once we've figured it all out, it's our time to be called to God, so that we don't accidentally leak that information to the younger, less knowledgeable youth, who are still searching for their destiny.
Maybe some day, I'll be able to pen a book. To sit still long enough, to dive into something that I know I truly love, and to feel that sense of contentment grow even more. Perhaps I'll never reach that goal, but in my husband, children, friends and family, will feel that my life was, after all, a complete masterpiece.
I feel as though I was born in the wrong time or in the wrong place. I travel extensively because I feel like I'm searching for something. I'm obsessed with Ireland, always have been. I'm obsessed with the East Coast, also. I don't know if it's just a driving desire to SEE these places, or if I have some secret lost connection to these places. After all, Irish are known for their lore and legends. What if I posses some innate sixth sense that is encouraging me to visit these places in order to find inner peace? Perhaps this is why I'm drawn to books about Ireland or the East Coast? Perhaps I'm just a lost soul wandering aimlessly through out time? Perhaps I've had way too much caffeine. :)
Whatever it is, I'm terribly lucky to have a man in my life who supports my adventurous cravings. He's willing to let me drag him from place to place, exploring endless possibilities, and falling in love with my surroundings.
I'd always wanted to see Hawaii, and we were married there! The island itself was surrounded by gorgeous pristine waters, and sea turtles would swim right up to humans. The mountains were topped with low laying clouds, and when the rains came it, it was a truly breathtaking site to see. Watching the waves gently lapping the shores, or crashing angrily against rocks was so mesmerizing to me. Never in my life had I ever imagined seeing something so beautiful, so untouched, so happy, and there I was during one of the happiest days of my life!
We plan on anniversaries being our "vacation" time. Unfortunately, this year it's not possible to travel, as we're working on paying off debts, getting a new car, and saving for a new home. However, for our 5th anniversary, we're hoping to travel back to Hawaii with our children in tow. How lovely would it be for them to see what their parents saw? How incredible the memories will be to see the islands again for the first time through their eyes? It'll be a great way to express our love for one another, and bring our children into our little secret world of wonder and celebrations.
We've got Ireland planned for our 10th or 15th anniversaries. A little research helped us plan that little endeavor. Did you know, that Ireland is very inexpensive? We found a cottage, fully stocked for 150 pounds a week, 3 bedroom, full kitchen, 2 bathroom, on a cliff.....what more could you ask for? Also, it's very close to one of my most desired places in County Clare near Ennis. I can't wait to just go and wake up to the sounds and smells of Ireland. How neat will it be to sit in a pub, and listen to the singers and familiar voices telling tall tales, and sharing life in Ireland? How fun would it be to ride horses along the beach, or brood over the cliffs of Mohr? How exciting will it be to wander through cemeteries and old castles and remains? My heart is beating frantically just THINKING about it.
Funny how my anniversaries are already somewhat planned. It's this adventurous side that leaves me feeling discontent. I'm a daydreamer, and I can't sit still for long periods of time. I ache to Go, Go, Go....and feel the ordinary is so mundane. It's for that reason alone, that I'm ashamed of that rebellious side of myself. I do have so much in my life, and I can't think of that gift from God as mundane. It's a blessing to have what I have, and my heart tells me so. So, even if at times I do feel a little sad for the things I have yet to do, I feel a softer contentment in the things that I have already done. Funny how as we grow, and learn, we also develop a greater sense of what life is about. I guess that is why once we've figured it all out, it's our time to be called to God, so that we don't accidentally leak that information to the younger, less knowledgeable youth, who are still searching for their destiny.
Maybe some day, I'll be able to pen a book. To sit still long enough, to dive into something that I know I truly love, and to feel that sense of contentment grow even more. Perhaps I'll never reach that goal, but in my husband, children, friends and family, will feel that my life was, after all, a complete masterpiece.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
What to do....
Logan is my beautiful, blue eyed baby boy...here lately though, he's discovered parts of himself, and I'm not overly sure what to do about that.
The other day, he's walking around the house with his hands in his undies...."Logan, what are you doing?" I say, to which he responds, "I'm playing with my balls." OMG..."Logan, why are you playing with your balls?" "Because, Mommy, There's 2 beans in there." Oh gee...."Logan, those aren't beans, they're your balls, stop playing with them." "But mommy, I like them."
Okay...he likes them. *sigh* I guess in some way, shape or form guys just LOVE to play with themselves. After all, how many times do you see a man constantly jiggling his "junk" in public places? It's a common fact that men just like to touch it, but not my baby boy!!!! I'm at a complete loss as to what to do about all of this, and Brian's response? "It's normal...leave him alone." Okay...it's normal for you because you have them...to me it's gross. I don't want you playing with your package in front of me, and I certainly don't want to see my baby doing it. I am not looking forward to the "exploratory" years. I don't think my innocent sensibilities can handle it. ;)
On another note, Logan is so adorable, (when he's not playing with his "beans"). Every night we read the kids stories before bed. It's my little way of insuring that books will be a part of their lives. Well, Logan loves the Very Hungry Caterpillar. So, he's memorized it! Well, the other night, Logan tells Brian, "No, daddy! I will read it to you!" So, I grab my camera, which has a video camera built in and recorded him "reading" his book! He's so clever, and he gets so excited about everything. Maybe I have a little actor on my hands, who knows? I just know that he's so cute, and I so enjoyed his little reading session! :)
So, my daughter wants to dance. She's so cute, every time music comes on, she's up twirling on her toes. She's the most precious thing I've ever seen. We're currently looking into dance classes for her. Well, this morning, they were showing a commercial for the Russian Ballet doing Sleeping Beauty, and Kylee goes..."OH MOMMY!!! Badderinas!!!" Awwwwww! Logan exclaims from behind her, "Kylee! It's you!" (he's very supportive of his sister's dancing aspirations) So, now I'm wondering if Kylee is too young to be taken to a ballet, maybe I should start smaller, eh? I can not wait until the day I am watching her perform her little recitals. I never got to do that sort of thing, rather, I put on little recitals in my living room for my grandma. :( I miss those days. Grandma was wonderful because she bought me tap shoes, and ballet shoes, even if I wasn't in the actual class. I used to LOVE to tap across her hard wood floors, and even if my "dancing" wasn't exactly structured or good, she always clapped and hugged me and supported me. Now, it's my turn to support my daughter. Even if she decides that dance isn't what she really wants to do, and ice hockey is...I'll enjoy just being there to cheer her on from the sidelines!
I guess in some ways it's okay to live vicariously through your children? We were too poor to afford proper dance instruction, or art lessons, or gymnastics, so we often attempted our own little antics. But I'd like to be able to provide those lessons for my kids, the real lessons.....I think it'll be like a dream come true for me to see my baby girl in a tutu, and to watch my little boy running down a field chasing a ball. :)
The other day, he's walking around the house with his hands in his undies...."Logan, what are you doing?" I say, to which he responds, "I'm playing with my balls." OMG..."Logan, why are you playing with your balls?" "Because, Mommy, There's 2 beans in there." Oh gee...."Logan, those aren't beans, they're your balls, stop playing with them." "But mommy, I like them."
Okay...he likes them. *sigh* I guess in some way, shape or form guys just LOVE to play with themselves. After all, how many times do you see a man constantly jiggling his "junk" in public places? It's a common fact that men just like to touch it, but not my baby boy!!!! I'm at a complete loss as to what to do about all of this, and Brian's response? "It's normal...leave him alone." Okay...it's normal for you because you have them...to me it's gross. I don't want you playing with your package in front of me, and I certainly don't want to see my baby doing it. I am not looking forward to the "exploratory" years. I don't think my innocent sensibilities can handle it. ;)
On another note, Logan is so adorable, (when he's not playing with his "beans"). Every night we read the kids stories before bed. It's my little way of insuring that books will be a part of their lives. Well, Logan loves the Very Hungry Caterpillar. So, he's memorized it! Well, the other night, Logan tells Brian, "No, daddy! I will read it to you!" So, I grab my camera, which has a video camera built in and recorded him "reading" his book! He's so clever, and he gets so excited about everything. Maybe I have a little actor on my hands, who knows? I just know that he's so cute, and I so enjoyed his little reading session! :)
So, my daughter wants to dance. She's so cute, every time music comes on, she's up twirling on her toes. She's the most precious thing I've ever seen. We're currently looking into dance classes for her. Well, this morning, they were showing a commercial for the Russian Ballet doing Sleeping Beauty, and Kylee goes..."OH MOMMY!!! Badderinas!!!" Awwwwww! Logan exclaims from behind her, "Kylee! It's you!" (he's very supportive of his sister's dancing aspirations) So, now I'm wondering if Kylee is too young to be taken to a ballet, maybe I should start smaller, eh? I can not wait until the day I am watching her perform her little recitals. I never got to do that sort of thing, rather, I put on little recitals in my living room for my grandma. :( I miss those days. Grandma was wonderful because she bought me tap shoes, and ballet shoes, even if I wasn't in the actual class. I used to LOVE to tap across her hard wood floors, and even if my "dancing" wasn't exactly structured or good, she always clapped and hugged me and supported me. Now, it's my turn to support my daughter. Even if she decides that dance isn't what she really wants to do, and ice hockey is...I'll enjoy just being there to cheer her on from the sidelines!
I guess in some ways it's okay to live vicariously through your children? We were too poor to afford proper dance instruction, or art lessons, or gymnastics, so we often attempted our own little antics. But I'd like to be able to provide those lessons for my kids, the real lessons.....I think it'll be like a dream come true for me to see my baby girl in a tutu, and to watch my little boy running down a field chasing a ball. :)
Monday, January 29, 2007
New Journey.....and then some
Today I'm starting a new journey. I know it's been done a million times, but this is my own personal milestone. I'm embarking on a new journey to become the person that I want to be, and not just what everyone else wants me to be. I'm seeking the path to a smaller, lighter, me. :) Yes, I know...woohoo...weightloss. Well, for some it's an on again, off again love affair of loving the new you, but hating the "calorie counting" that takes place. For me, it's not so much of that. Okay, so I've done the weight loss boomerang for quite a few years now, but this time, it's not really a weight loss, as much as a "I have to set a good example for my kids." If they see me eating right, they will....right? Logan is beginning to worry me. He's very much on the thin side, yet he's beginning to eat more and more. He's beginning to have 2nd and 3rd helpings of his dinner, and wanting more and more to snack on. Oh, I know the old adage, boys will be boys, but with the rate of childhood obesity in this day and age, it terrifies me that he's eating this way. I make healthy dinners, and he eats well, and gets his fruits and veggies in, but why is he eating SO MUCH!? My daughter is another thing that worries me. Kylee has never been a picky eater, and it really hurts me to hear Brian call her the "fat cheerleader". I was the fat cheerleader, and it's not funny to be called "Chubby" or "Pork chop" or "tubby". :( It hurts MY feelings when people say, "what cute fat children you have!" (Okay, they're NOT fat, and according to their doctor, they are both in the 30 percentile in weight, but chubby cheeks are deceiving.) So, in my efforts to be lighter, I'm hoping to teach my children portion control, and how to balance their hunger cravings with healthier choices.
I'm also beginning a new job next week. One that brings me closer to home, and my children. It is my hopes that I will be able to get my children involved in activities. My sister is a member of the YMCA, and I'm so looking forward to getting Logan involved in Soccer this summer. He is really into running, and balls, so I think this will fit his little hearts desire. As for my pretty ballerina...she wants to dance! She really liked watching the tap dancers on TV with me the other day, and she LOVES seeing ballet dancers and ice skaters. It is my hopes to get them both involved in what they love. This new job will help with that, as it's only 15 minutes from my home, and gives me time to be there for my kids.
I always thought I could be the "commuter" mom. The one that didn't mind working so far from home because the money was worth it. But, when I realized that I was not only not involved in my children's lives, but totally grumpy and mean by the time I got home from slaying the traffic demons, I knew it was time for a change. A change that would put me as mom again, and not as monster lady who was too tired to play with her kids. It makes me proud to be a mom, and my kids are my life, but when my career started superseding that, it was time to move on. So, hopefully this new journey is a blessing, and hopefully my children will know that their mommy loves them dearly, and wants to be with them, as a mother, not as an enemy.
I'm also beginning a new job next week. One that brings me closer to home, and my children. It is my hopes that I will be able to get my children involved in activities. My sister is a member of the YMCA, and I'm so looking forward to getting Logan involved in Soccer this summer. He is really into running, and balls, so I think this will fit his little hearts desire. As for my pretty ballerina...she wants to dance! She really liked watching the tap dancers on TV with me the other day, and she LOVES seeing ballet dancers and ice skaters. It is my hopes to get them both involved in what they love. This new job will help with that, as it's only 15 minutes from my home, and gives me time to be there for my kids.
I always thought I could be the "commuter" mom. The one that didn't mind working so far from home because the money was worth it. But, when I realized that I was not only not involved in my children's lives, but totally grumpy and mean by the time I got home from slaying the traffic demons, I knew it was time for a change. A change that would put me as mom again, and not as monster lady who was too tired to play with her kids. It makes me proud to be a mom, and my kids are my life, but when my career started superseding that, it was time to move on. So, hopefully this new journey is a blessing, and hopefully my children will know that their mommy loves them dearly, and wants to be with them, as a mother, not as an enemy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
