z is for zebra

i have this zebra picture—my son colin made it, he was around 8 i think when he drew it----it is a zebra standing in dirt---the caption that my son gave it reads “this is how the zebra got it's stripes “---it was shown along with a little animal my other son, dustin made in the school art fair----i still have both of them---

the crazy thing is, do you know, i have been saying for over twenty years--”you know we ought to frame this and hang it on the wall”---

now we have several of his photography pictures framed—oh yeah, he gave them to me that way—but we have them displayed---as a matter of fact since there are more than one—my daughter jokingly calls it “the wall of colin”--

i am very conscious of not showing any favoritism—and i do not have any----but i don't know why i have not framed that adorable zebra picture----

now i know we can't show all of our kids masterpieces---but i do have a few from each one----

i have even talked my two daughter-in-laws into painting pictures, that we proudly hang ----

life is too short, so i am going to hang that zebra picture and maybe i will have to look for a couple more of dustin's things, just to even it up---

yay zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz----- the end-- it's been real!

i thought i would end this a-z challenge by sharing a few pictures of my world—i hope to stay in touch with you all—and a heartfelt thank you to all of you for your wonderful posts i have come to look forward to and the wonderfully encouraging comments you have so graciously given—until next time—love and blessings and happy writing <3

                 

                                                                      we did<3
                           

y is for yesterday

yesterday is tomorrow's past and each one delicately strewn, with faded hues of misty dreams--

with softly spoken confidences---

but where do they go and what do they know---of our secrets and our pain-

what would you give for a chance to go back to the yesterday when you understood

but you will again ,if you loosen your grip, let it wash you anew like the dawn

yesterday can be as close as you chose, we are all waiting for it at some point-

yesterday will be there as sure as the hope of today,

yesterday holds you and teaches you things that no present or future can do-

x is for x-calibur

i am taking some liberties today with my hard letter x

when my two oldest boys were born, i tried to raise them like they could be anything—but some things i guess weren't included in that anything—i did not want them to have any sort of play guns, army men or other weapons, no knives, or swords, nothing that could be used to hurt each other or teach them to fight---

every stick they found became a gun and every used paper towel tube was a sword---

one Christmas, i insisted that santa bring them babies and strollers---they did love these and played with them lots---racing them and playing dodge the baby carriage—but it was a start

they had a cardboard sink and stove set, where they loved to pretend they were serving gangsters big mugs of beer and whiskey—still I kept trying--

when they were about 5 and 6 we moved to the house I am still in now---it was a boys paradise---almost all of the backyard is woods---they played for hours in the forest, built forts and caught many creatures in the creek at the back of our property-----perfect place for my no weapons allowed boys, to find all of the makings for an arsenal of wooden swords, knives and just the plain old banging your brother over the head with,sticks---one of these awesome inventions was a wooden, sword made from someone's yard marker---this famous sword was given the name of x-cailbur---it was my son dustin's constant companion, up until he was in his teens—i think he really thought it had magic powers and maybe it did--

most of their toys are long gone, certainly the baby dolls and carriages---but once in a while i will come across one of their treasures——sometimes i will pass them on to them and sometimes i just hold onto them a little while longer--

the washing machine incident

this is just a little slice of life, from my childhood—no heavy posts, today—just getting through the alphabet and thought you might enjoy this little story

one time while my mother had to go to the store, she left my older sister and myself at home—i was to be picked up by a friend's mother and taken to volunteer at a local hospital, where my friend and i were “candy stripers”---i think we were around 12 or so---

well my sister, who was very wise, was washing a load of clothes for my mother---so she didn't have as much to do when she got home with all of the groceries---my sister was like, that—always pitching in, always cleaning something—i was not-----

well, i am on the front steps, in my darling candy striper uniform, waiting for my friend and her mom, when i hear my dear sister screaming for me---i knew this wasn't going to be good---

“lynn, get yourself in here, right now, the washing machine is having a problem”----i sauntered up the stairs and into the house-----it wasn't a problem, it was a flood----water was coming out of the utility room, into the kitchen and almost, almost, oh no---not my mother's precious wood floors, she had just waxed------my sister was thrashing and beating the water with towels--

i being fully clothed for my volunteering, was not about to get involved in this fiasco-----

i start to whine and proclaim, that i didn't know what to do----that was the wrong thing to say, evidently----she threatened me unmercifully---but that did not persuade me to help---

did she really think i was going to ruin my cute out-fit----she knew better---but i underestimated her rage-

she threw down her mop and towels, picked me up by my white shirt collar and dragged me through the waters, now up to our ankles and tossed me out onto the back steps---

when my friend's mom came to pick me up a few seconds later—i had to wring my hair out and right-en myself enough to go to her car window and let her know, i would certainly not be going to volunteer today----funny i don't think she asked what was wrong—but she probably saw my foot tapping mean old sister up on the porch, waiting for me------don't worry, i get her back--

v is for visiting

like i stated in my cornbread blog—people don't visit like they used to--

i have to admit—this has not bothered me too much in my life—i think i inherited my mother's kind of anti-social gene------

but sometimes the idea of people visiting sounds very appealing to me--

it brings back my dad's stories about his family, my grandparents and his younger brother—visiting his mom's sister, every night---i mean literally every night---they would go over to aunt minnie's house straight after supper and just visit--

he recalls how his aunt would always have a cake made fresh---he and my uncle elwin, would look forward all day to that large piece of cake aunt minnie would give them and the big glass of icy milk---he said her chocolate cake was his favorite----

at that time they didn't have tv or a phone---so this was the only way they got any news or gossip of the day---who might have stopped by earlier----who they might have run into at the corner store—or what pastor martin might have been working on at the church as they walked by that day---

even when i was a child, when we went to my grandparents for sunday dinners---there would most always be a couple of visitors, while we were there--

yes it's a nice thought—and who knows maybe one day i will be just like my grandmother—when someone unexpected comes to my door, i won't panic---i will throw open the door—offer them something to eat and a cup of coffee and to please stay and visit a spell--

u is for understood

one of the most desired things one human needs from another, is to be understood---i know this is something i have always needed and missed so much of my life-

as i look back over my life, i think there may have been people that did really know, me—people i didn't recognize at the time----

i have had many occasions, where, i could simply not let something go, if i didn't feel that i had been heard or misunderstood----thankfully as i have matured or gotten old, i have learned to hide my concern about being understood—at least i am better at it--

why must we be understood—of course there is language, that should take care of it, when we are out of our infancy---but it does not---

language just may be more of a hindrance to true understanding—as we choose or do not choose our words carefully----then replaying what was communicated---but forgetting to notice the eyes, the arms folded, the shifting---the body language--

if someone understands us, we will be loved, but this is not the case at all----to know us does not always equate with loving us-----so we hide ourselves—pretending to be what the nearest companion may think they want---and then we wonder why we aren't understood--

the third floor

for most of my adult life, i have had this reoccurring dream about a third floor---

it starts, with a massive old house -most of the time i live there but someone else really owns, it—or the paper work never was filed—something in the dream, always leaves me with the impression, that i could lose the house, if the true owner decided he wanted it back---

not every time i dream this dream, do i go to the third floor---but i always know it is there---when i think of the third floor, i am terrified inside, but am not afraid to live in the house-

i remember once in the dream i entered the third floor—it had huge halls, with dark patterned carpet, mostly shades of maroon---i walk along the floor, which seems to be a little off center—there i notice two large connecting doors, kinda like in an old theater---this one time the doors flung open and i could see what was in there---

i don't know what i saw, but i know it frightened me and thrilled me at the same time----it was like at that moment, i had discovered the mysteries of life---

shortly after my mother died, a few months ago, i was relating this dream to several of my family members---as i started to tell this dream about the third floor, my aunt stops me and says “oh no not the dreaded third floor dream”--seems she has had this dream all of her life also---my daughter looked it up and some people say that the third floor dream, means you may have premonitions or some sort of physic abilities--

the last time i had the dream---i was driving past the house with a friend and she points the house out to me---i tell her, i would rather not go in today---