The Simple Things #3

Every Saturday, I will share three things that I believe to be the simple things in life, yet things that make me extremely happy. I invite you to do the same.

Saturdayfinds2
“Knowledge is Power.” Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

1. books
2. music
3. Saturday mornings


Now, it’s your turn! Share with me three simple things in life that make you happy. Please reblog, share this post, and give others a smile and a little bit of love. If you reblog the post, please ping or tag my blog and use the words Simple Things” and Happy as your blog entry tags.

Are you ready, folks? Can we keep the love flowing by sharing the simple things that make us happy? This is our The Simple Things Share Post #3. Have fun and let the happiness begin!

your poem (an experiment)

MUSICAL SELECTION: KINDRED THE FAMILY SOUL|WHERE WOULD I BE

Jyn Erso|Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

I stood there, tilted my head at Jyn Erso
she’s as self-sufficient as the clouds — a sure thing.
I look at the army standing around her
and think to myself, “How do her confessions live?
Is she ever fearful of sharing them?”

you cut your hair, endless curls now
bounce freely, centered at the top of
a polished crown and I long to touch
them just to see if they’re real.
but, I am not supposed to say this.
so, I whisper it to Jyn and watch
the stoic look on her face create a path
for me, that leads to the screen
showing a pair of numbers,
neither of them mine.

I shared your photo with my Mom —
“She cut her hair, look at her, Mom.”
she quips a bit about the flawlessness of
your cheeks and I smile.
“She’s still such a pretty girl.”
I agree.

we can hold past hurt, pain, and ages of
uselessness in the coils of our hair —
festering old trains, hooting for the next stop.
if we aren’t careful, we’ll carry the roots
of that ancient life into the next phase
of our growth.

I watch and wonder at you —
have you severed the harmful pieces and
sheltered the others that needed
a heart to live?

I know you have.
you are good to your heart.
I stare a moment longer at Jyn,
tilt my head to the other side,
and watch my number pop
up on the screen.

I was there long
enough to appreciate a poem
birthed from the air around
an army of fantasies and impossibilities.

I stood there long
enough for your
poem
to say
“Hello.”


Originally published on Medium.

The Journey Back To Mental Wellness

Citronella|Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

Part VI: Move In Your Own Direction And At Your Own Pace|Lune, 6 Parts

pause, take a moment
you want this
you’ve always known it

use caution, be safe
you should try
not everyone loves

not everyone feels
so be you
first — and no one else

learn to love nature
yes, love it
not just take pictures

get caught up in it
to release
everything at once

guard yourself, be true
you know you
better than we do


*Author’s Note: This is the final installment as far as sharing my journey in therapy here on Medium. My focus will simply be on gaining as much as I can from it and journaling at home, instead. Thank you to all of you for the support, kind words, sensible reminders, and for reading. Peace.


The Journey Thus Far: Parts I-V

I Haven’t Forgotten You

You’re All I Think About

Kids by delfi de la Rua via Unsplash

I wonder who has told you. If you know. If you’ve always known. If you want to know. I think about the right moment to say something, casually bring it up, but there’s nothing casual about coming out — again. I know you should hear it from me, but I am dragging my feet as it has been hard getting them from up under me — I have been sitting on them for too long. You should have known years ago or at least, in October when I told our brothers or when our father called and I confirmed what he already knew in January. Every time I dance around the subject of repeating those words again and this time, to you, I get an ache in my heart. My eyes water. My soul screams.

Everything in me stops.

I see you, but not the woman you are now, more like the infant-to-toddler that you were years ago and I want to hold you close and sing “You are my sunshine” until my throat becomes sore. I suspect that the task has been completed by someone else and you were not given the opportunity to hear me — see me as I spoke those words to you. I hope it hasn’t. I hope I still have time. I tend to sit on precious things, cover them up, then release them when everyone has stopped worrying about the potential harm they can cause. It has always been easiest for me, this method. I am learning to not lean into fear or hide behind it as much as I used to.

You don’t seem to have this issue, but then again, I have only watched you grow up from a distance. Much of my teenage to early adult life was lived before you even began to figure out things on your own. That’s what a nineteen-year gap does to sisters. It pushes them apart without either one knowing it is happening. I can call. I can text. I can pop up at important events. I can do all of this on a whim simply because you ask for my presence, but I can’t even tell you what presses on me more than anything.

I live with the thought of you daily. . . If you’re safe. If you’re learning how to maneuver through life and in the world without someone holding your hand. If your third year of college, now that you’re experiencing it, will strengthen you as much as mine did. You are strong, this is undeniable, but you have been sheltered. If I tell you, will you break? If I don’t, will you do so even more?

Bible, book, faith, and Psalm by Aaron Burden via Unsplash

“Truly, my soul silently waits for God; from Him comes my salvation. He only is my rock and my salvation; He is my defense; I shall not be greatly moved.” Psalms 62, 1–2 NKJV

I have missed about twenty Sundays in a row. To sit and count them, to think that my body hasn’t met a pew in over three months, causes me distress, but every time I tell myself that I am going to get it in gear, Sunday arrives, and I sleep in longer than planned. I find peace at my church — strength. I feel what I need to and when I need to there, but my body won’t let me move. My heart won’t, either. I have no idea why. You checked on me first thing in the morning, the other day — said you could not start your day without sending me a note. I missed it. Nearly most of my day went by before seeing your message and by that time, I let the toll of my workday cost me change.

I shared with you my emotions, how I’d been in and out of crying fits, how I am in therapy. This concerned you. You instantly began to worry. You wanted to call me and these days, I don’t welcome phone conversations like I used to. I told you that I was okay, that I’d be fine, I’d only answered your question. I wonder if being too upfront with you will cause you pain or sadness. But, I am growing and learning that I can no longer bite my tongue or hold in what needs to be said based on what the other person may feel when my feelings are expressed. I cannot control the emotions of others. I can only move forward when I feel it’s best to.

There is time. There will be time. I feel that it is nearing. I’d much rather the opportunity to sit you down in my favorite coffee spot, buy your drink and danish of choice, and talk — really talk. I want to sit and be with you, big sister to little sister and spill out what we need to. There are things you have always wanted to share with me and I have things I need to share with you, but distance is our enemy. It won’t be for long. I write. It’s what I do and I have written you a letter. You can sit with my words and I can come out again without even opening my mouth to tell you in person.

After all, when will I ever get the chance?


Originally published in Other Doors via Medium.