Many don’t like washing dirty dishes, but I like mine just fine.
They mean that I had food on my plate, and had company over to dine.
Some are chipped and old, with cracks along the bottom.
Cups from festivals and trips, places that I gott’em.
They may not be pretty to look at, as dirty as they are.
Especially the ones that have tiny pieces of food stuck on the bottoms of the jars.
But when you think about it, as weird as it may be.
I like my dirty dishes just fine, they represent my family.
With cups and plates all around, occasionally a knife,
I am quite satisfied with being a mother and a wife.
So, thanks for all my dirty dishes, each and every one.
When I am done with my dishes, I think I will go vacuum for some fun.
I am grateful for dirty dishes.
Walking across the sunlight sky,
Stepping on clouds, looking back now and then,
Where you afraid to die?
What was ahead of you that you felt you had to go?
Was the love we felt for you not enough?
Or was it time for your spirit to soar and grow?
Since the time you left, my life has changed.
At first, I was so lost.
Everything felt so strange.
Now as time has gone on, I know you are fine.
You’re still in my heart, where you will always be mine.
But, I am different now and not the same person I once was.
The pain, the mourning changed me.
I am not sure why I guess just because.
I build on my strength from the day before.
I try to live my best and to do so much more.
I love harder, now. I try new things.
I reach for the stars.
I take time to listen to the bird when it sings.
I always keep a shoe ready to drop, for the next love of mine that is lost.
I can not be shocked again, and pay such an awful cost.
Your death changed my world, it rattled and it shook.
There is a small piece of my heart in your pocket that you took.
Remember me as you walk through the clouds and the rain.
Remember so that you find me when it’s my time to go.
Remember the love I have for you and remember all of my pain.
Be happy among the clouds, among the God of the light.
Be happy and laugh, making stars in the night.
Remember me, as I remember you.
The smiles, the laughs, and the joy that we shared.
Remember me, because I cared.
I went to a carnival. The first place I went was to the Fun House.
It was full of twisted images of what was not right. Scary things kept jumping out at me, and I could not find safety anywhere. I was scared. My hands shook and no one could hear my cries.
So, I ran from the Fun House because it was not fun for me.
As I ran out the door, I bumped into a boy. He was cute and kind and saw my tears.
He said come with me and you will have some fun. So I did.
He led me to a roller coaster that reached the sky. It was limitless, shiny and full of vibrant colors. I wanted to ride it so badly because it seemed so much better than the Fun House.
The roller coaster made me laugh and it made me smile. The boy was right.
But then it stopped at the top of the ride.
The boy thoughtfully reached in his pocket and pulled out a box for me.
I opened the box to find four tiny little glass ornaments. They were beautiful. Precious. I smiled with delight at the ornaments shaped as a bear, a bee, a squirrel and a bunny.
Then the roller coaster started back up. As it began, we passed the Fun House, and I looked into its giant mirror. I could not recognize myself anymore. Somehow, I had grown. I tucked the ornaments deep into my pocket to keep them secure. I did not want then to break.
As the ride climbed up this time,, the bar locked. I knew something was wrong but the ride already started.
It took off faster this time and with more curves.
I felt like I had no control as it bounced me from side to side like a pinball.
I tried hard to hold onto my little glass ornaments. Each was precious to me, beautiful, simple and unique. I held the ornaments with one hand and the boy with my other. He also tried to help me hold the ornaments into my pocket.
We tried hard not to let the force of the rollercoaster crack a single one.
I tucked them deeper into my pockets hoping for the best as the rain started to pour on our ride. The thunder shook the rails. The lightning jolted the sides and all I could do was look up and pray that somehow I would make it off this rollercoaster with my four little glass ornaments in one piece.
Then the ride suddenly stopped and we were stuck. Upside down, struggling to hang on, the boy and I, tried our best.
Soon a fireman came with his ladder. He grabbed me by the hand and led me down out of the cart. Then He grabbed the boy.
As I started to breathe again, I remembered my little ornaments. Each so pretty and so unique. I reached in my pocket and started to unwrap them. The boy tried to help.
First the Bear. It appeared ok. Some chips but no bad damage
Then the Bee, it was cracked but still together and would be ok on the shelf.
The Squirrel was a little rough around the edges with tiny chips but also would be fine on my self.
Then I reached for the bunny. It was the smallest and most fail, and I cried as I found it cracked and broken.
I stood in the carnival holding my little ornaments and weeping for my bunny. It’s tiny pieces broken and sharp. I loved it as much as the rest, I held it and cried as I walked home to place them each of them on my shelf. The boy walked with me. Holding my hand and promising to find some glue to repair the bunny.
I will never go back to the carnival again. The clowns are scary and the rollercoaster is too rough. Now I go to the mall to ride the carousel instead. Its slower and I will never ever break an ornament there. There the Firemen are always nearby, and I can walk with the boy in peace.
I want to celebrate again
to enjoy a holiday
from its beginning to its end.
To smile on my birthday,
all throughout the day.
To enjoy a sunset,
without a dark cloud coming my way.
I want to drink a coffee
without wanting to tell you a joke.
I want to hear a song
without my heart feeling broke.
I want to look at your photo
without wanting to cry.
I want to hear you laugh
just once more before I die.
When you turned away,
you broke my heart.
It shattered in so many pieces
I can’t fix it, I don’t even know where to start.
So happy holiday, where ever you are.
I still love you from this earth to the heavens and the stars.
Being genuinely hurt by someone never really stops hurting.
The pain and grief of that person loom over you, every happy moment, every birthday and present.
Like a dark cloud ever waiting to pour on you like a thick dark, cold rain.
It is unforgiving like a storm.
Unapologetic like the thunder, and strikes like lightning through your very soul.
Your heart can’t even feel the pain anymore, because it stopped pumping long ago.
You are a shell of turmoil and tears.
When the tears come, they are a tsunami of a downpour.
Hot against your cheeks.
Rolling down to your now pierced lips, as they quiver at the touch.
Finally, like all storms, the tears will stop flowing, but they are ever present waiting for the next downfall.
Building up with each new memory that you make without that person. Growing hotter and more angry with each old photo you look at, and each silly item, like a pair of shoes, that person would have liked.
The tears build in the cloud that is now ever-present over your head, waiting to explode one morning again as you drink your coffee and think of that person again.
Then in one single gulp- it explodes again, and the rains begin to pour once more.
So is the cycle of real pain.