It’s been a while since I have been on here. I have been working a lot behind the scenes I just published my historical fiction novel on Amazon. I would really appreciate it if anyone who wants would buy a copy and leave a review.

Here's a link:

https://www.amazon.com/Grass-Stains-secrets-forever-future-ebook/dp/B0BKGYZ2KC/ref=mp_s_a_1_5?crid=A4LGRJG43A4G&keywords=grass+stain+book&qid=1669995801&sprefix=grass+stain+book%25252525252Caps%25252525252C161

Thank you so much

Never in my wildest imagination did I think my dream of a lifetime would happen. I put on my raggediest pair of jeans and most comfy sweatshirt for my journey across the sky. So many times I wondered what birds were thinking when they swooped across my backyard. Now I get to experience what’s got to be a miraculous feeling of being among the clouds.

Turquoise blue and puffy white surround my body until I choose to pause on the earth beneath my feet. What appear to be toddlers are hunched over a well. “Water” they loudly exclaim as I watch them fill their tiny buckets and drink ferociously. Soon a grandmother appears and helps me understand that water is a gift to these children whose thirst is rarely quenched.

My first adventure gets me wondering if seeing the real world is what I hoped to do today. But the unbelievable feeling of gliding through the air brings me to my next stop. Here I see a very old couple standing in a field. My instinct is not to ask how they are doing. But that wasn’t how I was raised. A simple hello is greeted with huge toothless smiles. A picture I could never forget.

I decide to end my tour since I desperately want more time to simply enjoy the thrill of gliding through the air. I glance down and see spectacular zebras running freely and a huge crowd of teenagers singing and dancing in the streets.

My alarm goes off playing “What a wonderful world.”

Visions of dust drove us into the rocket; grey, omnipresent dust. The missiles would fly, I did not know when. I knew only that we could no longer bear the dread, the knowledge that our homes and monuments and children’s schools could become rubble before the next morning’s bagel.

We exchanged Earth’s impending ash for the certainty of Martian sand. I hear it this moment, battering our domicile. It is the sound of madness; it is the sound of freedom.

English is my husband’s second language, and I often say that we live our lives in translation. I have never had any difficulty understanding him, but sometimes, what comes out of his mouth leaves me in fits of hysteria.

For three years, we both worked from home and I would sit in my home office in fits of laughter listening to him have conversations with his contacts in various non-English speaking countries and wonder how much they actually understood of one another. (I suggested always confirming phone conversations in email after one particular conversation when I was certain, after hearing my husband say the same odd thing multiple times, that the other party had no idea what he had said, despite repeated affirmations of yes, yes, yes, I understand Mr. Bill.)

Well, last year, my hubby was in Nepal on a business trip and for the first time ever, allowed his colleague to convince him to get a massage. He has never been a fan of being touched by strangers. So, he is taken to a room and asked what he wants and for how long. He decides on a 30 minute leg massage. The young lady does her thing and he is surprised that he enjoys it. At a certain point, the young lady says, “Penis.”

Thinking, uh oh, this must be one of those kinds of places, he say, “No, thank you.”

She repeats, “Penis.”

He repeats, “No, but thank you.”

She says again, “Penis, penis!”

He reiterates, ”No, no.”

She takes a breath and says, “Thirty minutes. Penis!” and points to the door.

Aha. He finally hears what she means to say.

“Ohhhhhh, finished.” He blushes, laughs and gets up, replying, “Sorry. Okay. Thank you.”

I slept alone a lot as a kid. Being an only child for seven years, with a single mom for at least five of them, I don't have a lot of memories sleeping in a shared room. I have more memories of laying awake at night trying to sleep as shadows swirled around my room in the moonlight.

Like most kids, I didn't like the dark. I had a vivid imagination and I could think of all kinds of fantastical monsters that lived in it. Yet I had a stubborn independence streak; I couldn't go crawling to mom so instead I took a tactical approach.

I assembled a plush army.

Every night, as I climbed into bed, I created a stuffed wall around myself. It started with my first and favorite teddy bear, but a general alone does no good. We recruited stuffed dogs, a Glow-worm, stuffed snakes (I started to choose animals who represented what I thought of as "natural" monsters - all the better to fight against the imaginary ones) and a few more bears. My ritual each night involved making sure they got tucked in around me. I usually did this myself, although occassionally my grandma or ma would help, with a soft chuckle at my horde.

Eventually I realized the stuffed army couldn't replace my real-life support network. Yet good soldiers never die; I kept them all. While I no longer needed them to stand guard at night, I retired them to shelves in my room in places of honor. A few I donated to smaller kids I knew, when I recognized the need for a trustworthy stuff-for-hire. The rest still live with me, carefully tucked away but always prepared for battle.

As a joke for my 20th birthday, my mother got me a giant bear that looked just like my original general - just three times the size. She smiled. "Well, I figured you were bigger so you'd need a bigger bear." It still sits on a table in my bedroom as a tribute to the plushes that kept a small child safe.

My partner laughted at it once when we first moved in together; the death glare I gave quickly ended all future jokes on the matter.

You do not ridicule the honor of teddy bears.

They have fought the darkness for much longer than you.

Teddy bear is such

a strange bedfellow

an oddity in reality

so much like me

two eyes,

a nose,

a mouth

stitched closed

in the silent

screams

of infancy

I hold you

close

by darkest light

and bare the soul

even now

when I cannot

speak a word

I can still

hold

Life's hope

07.19.2020

Write about a teddy bear. What is its significance? challenge @Isabellamb

The jet engines scream,

as I want to,

pushing me away from this city I should have known.

Away from these people,

once close,

then distant,

now close again, for a time.

Away from mended fences.

Away from glimpses of the laughter, the love, the routines, the cityscapes,

the pieces of her life.

Goodbye Detroit.

Maybe that's all I get.

Little intrusions into their lives, their laughter.

Maybe not.

I hope.

Sure would like to see her again,

in that rusty city,

alive now only in my dreams,

and faded pictures

and certain stories retold again

when we remember too.

Goodbye my sister.

There’s an empty void were you once were

That no one else could ever fill

I could try and I would fail.

Where loads of emotions used to live

There is now nothing,

Nothing at all,

All that time and dedication

What a waste.

I’m still in denial that you’re here

But you’re not

I look out the window expecting to see your face

But there’s just drab scenery of course.

I miss you and I’m mad about it

I’m angry that you decided to go away

Without ever considering that it would hurt me

So now look at me

And at least feel sorry.

I'm your angel when it rains your devil when the sun shines bright.

And if heaven could pick a place where angels and demons survive in union maybe we could be one.

some say the thoughts are deep philosophical but I feel like they are more akin to being like the impressions of a child. A child of innocence wondering simple questions like, "why is the sky blue,"

And I think the reasons that I love you is because you and only you know that feeling.

when I fall from heaven hoping that maybe you might catch me with your eyes closed because; while I long for the warmth of your arms, I don't want you to see me like this.

I don't want you to see me falling. Even though I bow in worship to you and kiss the tips of your toes, I wish it was possible for me to have such an adoration for you in secrecy. the world can be so temperamental so judgemental.

And so I wonder can I love you and the other? Or if I did under discovery would you tie rocks to my feet so I fall to the ground and no longer realize me as an angel. Open my eyes and help me see that it won't always be this way. Wipe away the stains from my cheeks and cleanse me from my sins. Help me understand that there is space in between where demons and angels can be.

I think that you know what the feeling is.

i think you know how I try to escape myself even though you won't help me.

I think you like seeing me like this because you don't know how to see me otherwise. You can't fathom me in a different light. In a happy light. And so you hold my hand even though I'm down on my knees. You kiss my lips even though, I dangle from a cliff. You brush my hair even though parts of me burn in a fiery abyss.

Yes, i think you know just what the feeling is.

and through it, you'll love me though I'll cut you like a razor. and through it all, you'll love me even if that means you must burn with me. you'll love me even if it means you must fall with me.

Because that love is as radiant as a cloud. it's as burning as embers.

Yes, for in love is there ever any safety in it?

can we ever know if it's the one?

can we ever save ourselves from falling? from burning? from the stabbings?

And if we can then would we do all again?