Tag: Friendship

Photos From This Past Weekend

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Holding on in “the times of trouble.”

Sunrise or Sunset? Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt (This is actually from Wednesday, February 26, 2025, but I just had to share it).
My best friend Mook and I, many years ago. I think this may have been in 2006 or 2007. She shared this with me on Saturday, March 01, 2025.
Saturday morning workout. Saturday, March 01, 2025. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
Sunday morning workout. I’m so weird. I have on like 3 layers in this photo. LOL! It was cold outside, and I had just returned from walking Jernee. Sunday, March 02, 2025. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
Buidling Basement Gems. Sunday, March 02, 2025. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
Salmon, spinach, onions, and cheesy grits. This is from Thursday night. I know it’s not the weekend, but I felt like sharing it anyway. February 27, 2025. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
My favorite girl. Jernee had a seizure on Sunday morning. This is her resting after I gave her a haircut and a bath. Sunday, March 02, 2025. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

“When it rains, it pours.” On Sunday, March 02, 2025, Jernee Timid had a seizure. It was a light episode, lasting about two minutes, and it was the first time she had one. I’ve been mentally preparing for Jernee’s transition for a few years now. The Little Monster is a fighter and seems to fight her way out of every traumatic event that has occurred to her. But this . . . this, I will not tolerate. I will not have her form a life of convulsions and episodic seizures. I just WILL NOT.

She has an appointment next Thursday with her vet for lab work and an overall checkup. They may do some other tests as well while we’re there. However, if she has another seizure, I am to call them and bring her in straight away or go to our Emergency Vet’s office. If the little one makes it to April 06, 2025, she will be 17 years old. But I have to be honest, folks . . . this really took a lot out of her, and I won’t be mad at her one bit if she doesn’t see her seventeenth birthday. I don’t want her suffering, and I will see to it that she does not.

Here’s hoping all of you had a great weekend and that you’ll have a wondrous week ahead as well.

Peace and blessings.

Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-Book and Paperback) yet?

Undeniable

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The Gift of Friendship

Undeniable by Tremaine L. Loadholt. Created with Canva.

had I known I’d spend
almost 30 years loving
someone as magical as
you, I would have begged
God to have us meet
sooner.

you give the word “joy”
a whole new meaning.
I think of you and smile
uncontrollably – you ignite
the happier moments
of my life. grateful is an
understatement.

you are blessed to gift
people your heart and you
do it effortlessly.
I’m so proud to witness
your growth and to say
confidently, “She’s one
of my closest friends, and
I love her.”

for as long as the Lord
sees fit to bond us,
I will sing to the mountaintops
of the beauty of our
friendship, and I hope
the angels hear me
far and wide.

I’m willing to lose my
voice over the gift of
you.

Karen, you are an amazing human being, and you have changed my life significantly. Thank you for being who you are. Happy Birthday! I hope and pray that you are blessed to see many more. I love you!

Pop-up Love

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An Audio Poem

Conversation between my friend and I, re: my belief that I should be an old person, and her telling me I will be one and hopefully, I’ll encounter someone just like me when I am older. That’s what I call Pop-up Love–love straight outta the blue when you least expect it.
Pop-up Love by Tremaine L. Loadholt

I joke about my belief that I should be
an old person with a friend who gets
the sillier side of me than most people
do–and what transpired was the birth
of pop-up love.

Earlier that day, an elderly woman
was being escorted down the hall
by one of our Techs, and someone
decided it a good time to make
hot cocoa. She looked into my
office as she hobbled by and straight
into my eyes, and said, “Did you put
on some hot cocoa?!”

I wanted to hug this beautiful aging
woman and hold on tight to her.
When I answered her, I smiled widely–“No,
ma’am. It wasn’t me.”
In that moment, I wish it were me–I wish
I had enough time to place two mugs
smack dab in the middle of that
hallway, sit in a crooked circle with her,
and down the creamy goodness of
a favorite pastime delight.

I could tell she was a pistol in her day,
making the men smile, and probably
some women, too. She had curly, wispy
hair, a lean-away from posture, and
a slow hobble that needed little-to-no
guiding. And all I could do was smile.
Smile and wish I could shoot
the shit with her.

But back to my friend who commented
lovingly about my eventually being old
and hopefully the older version of me
would meet someone like me.
Let it sit. Let it marinate.

When someone isn’t as open
with their love or their trust
and they decide to land a phrase
on you that could lift you up when
you least expect it–you’re doing what
God has formed you to do.

You are creating change.

And as I re-read her comment
several times that day and into
the next, I grew thankful for having
characteristics that meld into
the memories of my loved ones,
and they can rehash them when
the time is right.

Whoever thought my affinity
for the elderly would lead
me down a road of love
that was needed in a moment
where I was feeling I hadn’t had
the chance to feel loved as deeply
as I would like.

And then love pops up,
out of a place it usually doesn’t form,
and reminds me I am
still worthy and my flowers
lay at my feet.

Three Years Later . . .

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Free Verse Poem

AD & I (left = Me. Right = AD), Saturday, December 21, 2024: Charlotte, NC. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

I dig into hearts–tear away walls,
and break down the turmoil
festering in a tired and weary soul.
She wasn’t trusting before me . . .
It’s hard to let someone in when
the past has shown you more
pain than joy . . . but we are
m a n a g i n g.

We have deep conversations about
life and the difficulties it places
upon us, and I always love
these discussions.
“Life is a conveyor belt
of challenges,” our Pastor
says, and I commit it to
memory because why not have
something encouraging to
share when the proverbial
shit hits the fan?

We chilled. We relaxed.
We appreciated the presence
of the other and Jernee basked
in the glory of her other favorite
person’s smile while I kicked back
and allowed the comfort of the
thick and inviting couch to
envelop me.

Three years later, we glide on
wobbly knees, still cautious of what
to say and often alerted to think
before speaking.
“You are a genuine person. You’re
safe for me.”
I get this . . . I’ve always gotten this–
and it is important to be a place
of peace for people who need it
most.

So, we continue to tread lightly,
but eager to grow into
two human beings blessed by
the beauty of the other–learning
from the other daily.
And as time passes, I pray
we have the strength to
fight the battles brewing in
life’s crockpot of danger.

Lord knows we’re strong
enough to do anything.

Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-Book and Paperback) yet?

The Emotions & Solstice Sadness

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The Emotions: What Do the Lonely Do at Christmas

Solstice Sadness

Winter sneaks in, draped
in drama, hands on
heavy hips, waiting to
cover us in dysfunction.

I know I won’t say anything
when I see her today, but I’ll
want to. And she won’t say anything–I’m the expressive
one when it comes to
“such a time as this.”

We’re feeding off of cold
energy–trying to warm our
hearts, both too afraid of
being hurt–it’s just around the
corner, yet we’re holding on.

The Emotions’ “What Do the
Lonely Do at Christmas” comes
on and tears stream down
my face.
How can you listen to this
song and not feel something?

The air outside sends a chill
to my bones that is indescribable.
I am frosty–winterfied by
jealous winds and made stoic
in the presence of God’s
season.

“You have too many periods
in that one statement for me
to feel comfortable about your
reply” she tells me as she reads
my response to her asking me
not to hate her for picking
up another shift that cuts our
time in half, and I read and
reread the statement, and the
only thing I can come up with
is, “I don’t know why you’re
uncomfortable. I place periods
where they belong. It’s
grammatically correct.”

My spectrum brain didn’t see
the coldness of it–the short-and-to-the-pointness of it, and I
have to remind her sometimes
it’s best I communicate verbally
because word of mouth
in written form can be
misconstrued.

We agree it’s our emotions
taking over . . . we care too
much not to care at all,
and this season always finds
us tugging war with ourselves
and the battles are many.

I am fighting for more than
peace and strength.
I am fighting to be understood
by a world that may never
understand me but it
hurts so much more when
she tries and she can’t, either.

Happy Winter Solstice, beautiful people! I’ll be spending this day with someone very near & dear to me. I hope all of you will get the chance to do the same.

Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-Book and Paperback) yet?

gravitate

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we’re living in the last
days of working together
and both of us are losing
peace, but we don’t want
to admit it.

she thinks my leaving would
cause me to gravitate toward
another or forget her or let
go of what we’ve built, and
I’m shouting from the highest
of heights that this is
false.

we are connected in a way
that cannot be damaged.
she knows this–holding on
makes her feel like she’s
letting go.
“We are so much more than
work-related. This environment
doesn’t define us.”

and she sees, then hears
those words, but fear is
still a marker I have to fight.
“I say what I mean, and I mean
what I say. We will still be us.”

I know insecurity lies
in the depths of her beating
heart and at the base of
her troubled mind, but I’m
giving her my word.

“You can’t say I haven’t kept
my word. For as long as
you’ve known me, I have
never disappointed you.”
she admits the truth of this,
yet I still have to kick through
past culprits to show her
I am who I say I am.

tomorrow is a day we don’t
want to see.
there are mixed feelings, but
an inkling of happiness
caresses my heart.
I am changing even though I’m
scared to death.
I am moving on from a place
I’ve known for years . . .

and she thinks the gravity
of the intensity of this
change will move me away
from her, too.
try as I might, I can only
do what I have been doing.

I cannot make her believe.