Brutus

Brutus McIntyre stretched out as the last rays of the sun lit up the room. It had been a long day and nothing feels better than that warmth radiating through your bones.
A sound from the hall way, and a turn of the door lock upsets his nap and sends an anxious alarm through his body. He hunkers down hiding, his heart beating rapidly. The door eases open just enough for the intruder to slip through.
Brutus keeps still, knowing he won't be seen as the man walks through the room. He had been lying on the floor and it was easy to just slip behind the sofa. Looking out from the side he observes the invader going into the kitchen. He hears the plundering of the cabinets. He hears him call out to him as if to coax him out of his safe haven. Brutus wonders just what he could be doing in there and just as he has decided he might creep into see, the man comes back. Now he crosses to the spiral stair leading to the bedroom. Louder noises come from above and from the bathroom as well. The man takes so long that Brutus feels that it is critical that he know just what and where this invader is. He silently slips up the stairs and slides into the hall closet. He watches unobserved as the craven ram sacks the place. Little damage seems to be done.
It appears that the craven is checking out all of the rooms and looking under the furniture, and now calling out his name, here kitty kitty....

Is It True Kahlil Gibran?

The gratuitous words that are meant well, are just froth to my ears and  fail in any way to sooth the loss. My child, my girl is dead. It has been ten years, a long time and I tell myself it should be easier, and yet some days I just want to cry all day long.

Something special has gone from me, someone who called me mom and came to me when she needed counsel. Someone who had a child and husband and daily challenges and a future that she was looking forward to.  So much will never happen for her. The many little things that she did not get to do. Seeing her son off to school for the first day. Watching him grin with embarrassment from teasing about his first girlfriend. Enjoying his pride as he grows taller than her and many of those around him.

I look around and wonder who else is missing her....none like me, I feel alone, I have lost someone dear, my child, my girl, my first unconditional forever love.

There is no granite stone marking her spot, and few go to mourn for her.
I am a walking hollow pain, hungering for my child, my girl.

Recalling a verse by Kahlil Gibran "  The deeper the sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain."

Are those words worth acknowledging, are they true?

Once the wave of loss washes over me, I can breath again. I can look to the girls around me.

Twelve of them in my family, twelve that have come after her and filled in and eased my sorrow.
Twelve that have brought me smiles, tenderness, joy and will continue to grow in the depths of my carved soul.
Each one filling in a little corner of the loss from the one.
Twelve more that I can give unconditional love too.

Yes.... those words are true for me... now.

Thankful

Having had a rather gruesome day, I drag myself to the home of a friend. A group of us meet occasionally to share our exploits and traumas. Our friendships have blossomed due to mutual shock that life often brings challenges we were not prepared for. Some of our time is spent laying out our concerns but mostly we laugh and poke fun at ourselves. An hour or so later we begin our goodbyes. My band of friends has lifted my mood. Parting from our gathering we hug and wish each other a good evening.


As I step into the night the vines that surround the porch wrap me in their mellifluous scent.


The chill in the air reminds me that the season is changing. I enjoy the sound of rustling as I walk among the fallen leaves.


Turning the corner I gasp and freeze. Two golden eyes appear ahead of me. My high spirit withers as a hollow feeling grips me....WHAT is that! The eyes move toward me, I think to run...and then my breath comes at last as I recognize my faithful companion Coco. She licks my hand as she takes up my pace to accompany me. I am grateful that I have my constant companions.