Make A Wish

Just something that was easy and fun to write



Sometimes it would catch her by surprise. She would look at the clock and there it would be staring at her waiting for her dreams.... 11:11 "Make a wish." That's what her friends had taught her. And she would.

When she first learned about it the wishes were of ponies, a new bike, pink ballet slippers, and a brand new baseball glove that had to be broken in with saddle soap, a baseball in the pocket, secured with rubber bands and then put under your mattress.

She wasn't all girlie girl. Her best friend David could attest to that. Hell, with a nickname like Frankie you knew she didn't sit at home polishing her fingernails waiting for a boy to call.

Baseball was what brought them together. They became friends that first day at camp when she stole his favorite hat from his sweaty head and took off running. She wore it the rest of the day and it didn't bother her that it had never been washed. It was the summer before both of them were going into fourth grade, and they were inseparable.

It's not that they were outcasts. They both had friends of the same sex. It's that they were most comfortable when it was just the two of them . They understood each other. Her friends (girls) didn't get it when she talked rbi's, era's, and her dreams to play shortstop. Day's friends (boys) didn't understand his love of reading and writing. When they were together there was an easiness; conversations switching between how their team could've lost last night's game to which book was their favorite that week.



They hated the teasing, and they got it a lot. Their parents, friends and siblings just wouldn't let up. She was the only girl invited to his bar-mitzvah and as soon as he said hello at the party they both heard the kissy sounds of his classmates. He told her they were jealous when he saw the tears in her eyes as she ran from the party. And it was then that he realized that they probably were and with good reason.

She was special and even if she was only a buddy, she was his.

It took her longer to realize. All through high school, he listened to her as they would throw the ball around, about this guy or another. He never told her how he felt. He was always afraid she would laugh and think he was joking. She dated almost every guy in his class and some in the classes above and below. The almost was that she didn't date him.

It was the summer after their graduation when he told her. They were both going away to school, and he was afraid he would lose her to a college guy. He had almost lost her earlier that year. He remembered listening to her talk once again about how she felt about someone other than him, except this guy wanted to marry her. It shocked him into action.

She laughed while talking about it. Finding it so very funny that someone could even think of her in that way. She still loved baseball and hanging with the boys. She couldn't see herself as someone's wife and then later as a mom.

He took another look at the girl he loved and realized that she wasn't a girl anymore. Other people saw her as a young woman with a brilliant smile that would light up her eyes even if they were hidden behind glasses and under that ever present baseball hat.

Again

When did things get so intense?

I just spent awhile going through some old letters, and started remembering how much fun I had/have with you. It made me smile and laugh. I relaxed while thinking about you doing and saying silly things.

Sometimes you just need to enjoy each other's company. And that's me talking to myself. I know you are well aware of this and have been trying to knock it into my head.

I like you and spending time with you. That's it.



btw-Don't even try and think that you knew I would do this!!!! You sooooooo didn't.

Trying To Forget

I've been trying to forget him. It hasn't been working too well, but maybe now it will. It's good-bye.

I wrote these two posts before. I put one up and took it down... hoping.



Surprised

That he didn't say good-bye.

But should I be? What else am I to think?

There is so much to write and say that the words are stuck in my chest and have started climbing to my throat along with the ache. I won't allow it to go any further. I'll swallow it down. I won't allow myself to hurt like this. I won't have to worry about hanging in limbo.

Maybe it was all of my own making. Maybe I saw more in him than was really there. Maybe it's just not meant to be. Maybe he just discovered who I really was or thinks he has. Maybe he has too much going on. Maybe he's just too tired, lazy, afraid or doesn't feel what he thought was there. And maybe I shouldn't be coming up with excuses for him. He's just not that into me. That's it... plain and simple.

I opened myself up to him more than I have done with any other man I've known, felt more for him than I thought was possible. I'm glad I did. I hope he has a good life and will be happy. I know that I will.

Goodbye



I'm Not So Smart

Sometimes, I'm just not so smart. I don't need to be hit over the head with a baseball bat to realize that someone just doesn't feel the same way. Yeah, I'm beating myself up.

I just thought... I just thought he cared the way I did. It shouldn't hurt to know that he doesn't. It should make me feel better. It should make me feel relieved and even happy, but it doesn't. I'll miss him.

He made me smile and feel good inside. But then he also made me cry. I just wasn't going to do it in front of him. I never felt that way for someone, and there's no way in hell I'm going to let myself feel that way again. It just hurts too much.

I'm going to forget him, and everything about him.

I'm strong. I may not be smart sometimes, but I'm strong enough to get through this. And I'm not stupid enough to let myself get hurt like this again. I wish I didn't feel. I wish the pain would just leave the way he has. It hurts.

I know that I deserve someone who wants me. But you know what, I don't think I'm going to open myself up to that.

My Ghost

My thoughts are filled with him. I see someone smile and think of his eyes twinkling. I hear a horn honking and think of him driving. My phone rings and I hope he is calling.

I live with music and every song I hear connects me to him. I can't get away from him. There is nowhere to go to escape his sweet deep voice and rumbling chuckle.

Even my dreams are filled with him... so real that when I wake I'm reaching for him.

He haunts me with his soothing words and chains me to him by the teasing names he calls me.

I miss him but he is not gone from my world.

Fun In Kansas

We went to the lake, and did some fishing and paddle boating. DB was the self-appointed captain, first mate and quarter-master "because I've seen all the pirate movies." When he announced this, Saba was trying his very best not to laugh out loud. I would love to take DB out sailing then he can really be captain.

He's turning out to be a really good fisherman and has the next spot he wants to try all picked out. His casting is so natural now, and he's at the point that he's ready to bait his own hooks. I can't wait until he does then I won't have to cut the nightcrawlers and put the hook through them... not the most pleasant of responsibilities.

We had a barbecue and did some swimming at a cousin's pool.

DB is exhausted, but happy. The only thing that didn't quite work out was that he wanted to take home the yellow perch we caught... not to eat them, but to keep them as pets. He even went all by himself and asked the park ranger, who told him it was fine. OY!!! That made it so much harder for him to put them back in the lake.

We finally convinced him that they would be dead by the time we got them into an aquarium. There were tears from DB, but he said good-bye. Then he promised them that next time he would bring a bucket to carry them home in, and have the aquarium ready and waiting.

Jake and Jack... DB's catch and good friends.

His Song Part 2

He hides behind words
and write in riddles
hoping to be discovered
by the one he loves

pushing her away
he tries harder
everyday
to win her

the tears he cannot shed
live forever in his head
and his blood keeps on pulsing
through this unforgiving world

smiling, she passes by
he struggles to let go and fly
to join on her journey
the dreams she longs to live

reality pushes them apart
and he struggles for her heart
to capture his fleeing soul

joined as one
they fall into the sun
and their love consumes them

Recognition

There's this man that I've seen around a couple of times. Actually, more than a couple.

The first time I saw him we both kind of did a double take. We most certainly did not know each other, but there was a connection, a recognition of something there. Of course, every time after that when we saw each other there was a silent understanding. I don't remember ever smiling at him, and I smile at everyone. Believe it or not there was never any flirting between the two of us. He never smiled at me either, but we always looked each other in the eye and knew.

He's younger than I am, but he's not a guy. He's a man. There's a way that he holds himself; a confidence, a surety. And I wasn't sure if he is/was married. I'm still not sure.

I saw him about a month ago. He came into the store, and there was that instant knowing. I looked up and saw that he was caught by surprise to find me working there. We didn't say anything to each other. I was busy helping other people. He walked around as if he didn't remember what he had come in to buy, and then he left.

Yesterday, he showed up in the store again, but it was empty. There were no other customers, and I was laughing with another employee. I looked up and there were his eyes looking down into mine. He smiled back and for the first time I spoke to him.

I helped him find what he was looking for and he joined in on the joking around. There was still an unspoken acknowledgement between us, and then he left. I did get to find out that he is intelligent and funny, but still not sure if he's married or not.

A Passing Afternoon

Passing Afternoon - Iron & Wine

There are times that walk from you
Like some passing afternoon
Summer warmed the open window of her honeymoon
And she chose a yard to burn
But the ground remembers her
Wooden spoons, her children stir her Bougainvillea blooms

There are things that drift away
Like our endless numbered days
Autumn blew the quilt right off the perfect bed she made
And she's chosen to believe
In the hymns her mother sings
Sunday pulls it's children from their piles of fallen leaves

There are sailing ships that pass
All our bodies in the grass
Springtime calls her children until she lets them go at last
And she's chosen where to be
Though she's lost her wedding ring
Somewhere near her misplaced jar of Bougainvillea seeds

There are things we can't recall
Blind as night that finds us all
Winter tucks her children in, her fragile china dolls
But my hands remember hers
Rolling around the shaded ferns
Naked arms, her secrets still like songs I'd never learned

There are names across the sea
Only now I do believe
Sometimes, with the window closed, she'll sit and think of me
But she'll mend his tattered clothes
And they'll kiss as if they know
A baby sleeps in all our bones, so scared to be alone

I'm A Country Gal And It Was A Good Day

Sitting here watching the ACM's, that's the American Country Music Awards for you city folk, I'm a happy camper singing along and tapping the computer keyboard in time to the music. There's a big grin on my face. I've had a pretty good day, and I can't ask for anything more because the DB was with me for part of it smiling, shooting some hoops and even tangoing his mom across the gym floor without an ounce of embarrassment.

It's funny how other people pick up on how you're feeling. Well, with me it's kind of obvious. OK, it's almost unavoidable to know how I'm feeling if you're near me or even talking to me on the phone. It's also neat to see how people are attracted to you when you're happy.

I went to pick up dinner tonight and a guy who works there was ready to pay for it for me, not to mention a single homey from Kansas who was flirting with me while I was at work and trying to find out if I was divorced or dating anyone. Then there was the customer who told me I had a great smile and wanted to know what hours I was in the store.

And I got a bonus today, a bracha from Rabbi Dr. Abraham Twerski for DB and he added on one for me too.

Earlier in the day, Bubbi was complaining of the noise her car was making. When I let her know it was just her muffler she told Zaidy that it was a little bit loose he asked, "How do you know?"

"CR told me."

"OK, we'll get it fixed," was what he replied, and it made Bubbi laugh because he didn't even question her once she told him that I was the one who diagnosed the problem.

It made me laugh too, when she told me. In case you haven't figured it out, Zaidy/Abba questions everything, and anything, and anyone's opinions. But not my judgement on car problems... too funny!

The bris was lots of fun and we had a huge family picture taken which didn't even include even 1/4 of the family, but still amounted to a whole bunch of people who love each other smiling next to one another.

OH! And when I got home from work Bubbi/Mom handed me a bag with some jewelry I had thought was lost forever; a signet ring, I got on my 16th birthday, my dad's watch that he got when graduating high school, he gave it to me when I did the same, plus some other pieces that had sentimental value. I have a ring on each hand right now, and it makes me feel so girly and fancy even with my fingernails that are bitten down to nothing.

All in all it was a good day.

Of course, the music and familiar accents just add even more to it. I hope you all had a good day too.

btw-how could I forget all the hugs and kisses from little ones and their parents.

My Friend, Petey

I’m so silly, and I’m so lucky. I’m lucky that I have a good friend. Let’s call him Petey. He makes me laugh and always has, even though his jokes are so, so, so very horrible. He listens. And not only that he has the answers to my questions. That is a major feat!!!

Petey explains and reminds me of things that I should be able to know and remember by myself. My emotions sometimes get in the way. The funny thing is that sometimes we are both talking about someone or something completely different than what the other one thinks and yet his advice still seems to apply. It's obvious that we're both strange. Yes, Petey, you're strange, but you knew that already.

He helps me keep my head on straight, and not get into too much trouble. I get lectures sometimes (alright, about once a week) on different matters, and it doesn’t bother me in the least. It means he cares, and I appreciate it.

He gets me to laugh while I’m in the middle of crying. OK, OK, it’s not that difficult to do. And yes, I already know I’m weird. Just about everyone who's ever read my blog can attest to that.

I guess the real reason for this post is so that I can say, "Thank you, Petey. And I'll bet you a nickel you never figure out why I called you that."

btw- Your offer to call blew me away.

Summer Nights

It's warm out tonight. The sky isn't that dark yet. It's all blue, a light sky color, to royal, to a deep midnight blue. It's part of my favorite time of night. I love the color blue. The stars are out and I recognize Orion in the familiar place it takes in the summer sky at this time of year.

I used to have a hammock, and in the warm weather instead of sitting on the glider in DB's room and reading his bedtime stories, he would lie cuddled next to me on it under the stars with the three books chosen for that night. When it was really warm out we would go out with his hair still wet from his bath and it would keep us both cool. Once or twice he fell asleep while we did this, and I just stayed there for an hour or two looking up at the stars feeling content that my darlin' boy was peaceful and next to me.

I hadn't thought about this for awhile. DB is bigger now. He doesn't fit that well on my lap when I'm on the glider so we read in his bed. The stories are also different; The Count of Monte Cristo, The Last Of The Mohicans, but Dr. Seuss hasn't left the group quite yet, although Green Eggs And Ham, and Hop On Pop have.

I know that if DB weren't dyslexic I wouldn't be reading him any bedtime stories at all. That's about the only good thing that I can see in him being dyslexic. There are times now when he wants to "read" something on his own, and the occasions that I sing to him our repertoire of lullabies are also decreasing.

He's growing up... beautifully. I remember the day I walked into his room in the morning and he was standing up for the first time holding onto the crib rails with a big grin of accomplishment on his face. It took me all of a minute to grab my camera and record it for posterity, but I didn't really need to. Closing my eyes, I can still see that sweet face smiling at me.

His manners are also improving. I wrote improving, after all he is a boy and a child, but yesterday I didn't need to remind him to hold open the door for Bubbi and to say thank you. We stopped in a gallery and DB stood talking to the owner about Chagall, texture and color and how he paints. He is so grown up for a little munch, but the next moment he was discussing who is a stronger alien in the cartoon Ben 10 (tv show he watches with his dad), and acting out what the character does.

He's a special boy, and I'm so lucky to be his mom. I hope all you other mom's (including mr. moms) enjoy your children and have a Happy Mother's Day.

His Song

You touch my heart with words that are not yours
Reaching out for love
Breaking down the doors
Our world of hidden pain
Cannot be forgotten
I yearn for your soul
And stand in the rain

The sky falls down upon me
And I watch while you appear
In a cloud above me
And I’m still standing here

Reaching through the miles traveled in our lives
People we’ve become
As we tell ourselves the lies
To keep us living
Moving forward every day
While looking for that someone
Who can show our hearts the way

The sky falls down upon me
And I watch while you appear
In a cloud above me
And I’m still standing here

Wait for me I’m coming to share your inner world
Reaching for your hand
Knowing we can share the gold

The sky falls down upon me
And I watch while you appear
In a cloud above me
And I’m still standing here

In the joy of our souls meeting the dreams can fade away
We can start to live our life
And move on to the new day
The sky opens up above us
And we watch the sun appear
Together we are smiling
As we throw away the fear

Living A Story

Her writing fills her life
As living never does
Dreams and poems become real
Closing her eyes
Trying to hide behind written pictures of joy and passion
Tears flow with the words and pour from her fingers

And I know the sorrow
Wishing for the fulfillment in her stories
Hoping for a life of her dreams

To go back in time and start again wouldn't help
To go forward would only make the past less familiar
I don't want to let go of the hurt that releases him
To know that not even cries remain
When they are gone so is his existence in my world
Just another character imagined in my life of books
Rereading friends and living the lives of others
To disappear from my own
Sometimes the hurt and pain continue through the day,a dull ache
At others, a familiar song stabs my memory
And rips his loving words from my heart with an anguished cry

To live for others is only existing
I hide behind smiles
Believing that none can see the dull pain of alone

She doesn't search through crowds for his face
To recognize his walk in a crowd
Straining to see... hoping he is returning to her
But knowing that will never be
Even with their meeting.

How do you live with sorrow?
Is it forgotten in a drawer with letters folded and worn from longing?
The memories of caring words in deep voices fill my mind
And the suffering leaks down my face
Cooling the passion that is still there.

Don't leave me
Don't let me leave you
Don't say goodbye
Don't wish me well
Just go and give me forgetting your laugh
So that I can continue on my walk for others
Across an empty world

Whatever I Feel Like

Some of you have asked what's been going on with me and Cowboy. I can't really tell you because I don't really know, and I bet you he's reading this thinking the same thing.


I've just decided to do whatever I feel like doing (and saying). If it's a problem, I'm sure I'll hear about it. He's rarely at a loss for words, although, I'm almost certain it does happen on occasion. ;-)

Easy

He makes it easy... easy to talk to, to tell him things I've never told anyone... easy to laugh and cry with, easy to care about, and easy to write about. There's a comforting warm feeling that I get in my chest when I think of him. It's contentment.

Anyway, remember that I wrote two nights ago that it's hard not to be able to call him anytime I would like and most especially to say good-night. He called me late last night to specifically say goodnight to me. I fell asleep while dreaming of being in his arms, hearing his deep sweet voice and with a soft smile on my lips.

What I'm trying to say is that he listens to me, and then tries to make me happy. I don't have to shout things from the mountain top to get his attention. He's standing right there next to me in the clouds.

Yes, I like to dream. I like to hope for better things... for safety, happiness, love, and it's easy to do this with him around. Don't get me wrong. I'm also realistic, which does make the dreaming difficult at times. There are no guarantees in life. I won't make any promises, and I HATE it when people try to promise me something. I guess today is a day for cliches so here comes another one. Promises are made to be broken.

Tell me you will try your best. I will take you at your word and understand if something doesn't quite work out the way you said it was going to. But just don't promise me anything. The disappointment that I feel when the promise is broken carries over into my not being able to trust you in the future.

It's kind of obvious that I've been promised things before or maybe not even promised just told that things would take place and I've been let down. The worst thing about it is that I get angry at myself too when this happens. I blame myself for trusting someone's word again. It makes me feel stupid, not just hurt.

Oh, no! I said the "S" word. It's a word that we don't say in our family. When DB gets really angry or upset he sometimes shouts "I JUST WANNA SAY THE "S" WORD!!!" Of course, I'm trying my very best not to burst out laughing when he does this.

He's too cute, and he would be infuriated to know that I called him that. He's getting older and wants to be cool. I've caught him a couple of times looking at himself pose in the mirror... turning his baseball cap around, crossing his arms over his chest, slouching a little and putting his hands in his pockets.

He doesn't realize that the fact that he sticks up for his friends, and also doesn't let them walk all over him make him pretty cool just as he is... sure do love the darlin' boy. And I really do like the darlin' man.

A Bonus OR Mitzvah Goreres Mitzvah (One Good Deed Follows Another)

I had been meaning to write about this for quite some time, but never got around to it. Walking around yesterday, doing errands, and dealing with people reminded me of it. I love the way most people turn beautiful when they smile; a real smile that reaches their eyes, that is. Someone who looks unapproachable or just not pleasant automatically becomes accessible as soon as their lips turn upward.


I smile at everyone, well, almost everyone. It's who I am. At one point in my life it was extremely difficult to look people in the eye, even more so if they were strangers. Since I've made it past that point, I enjoy the ability to look and interact with people. It doesn't matter what they're wearing or if they are standing behind a counter ringing up a sale. I even smile at the homeless and down on their luck. They're people too and probably appreciate the smile more because they don't get that kind interaction that often.

So here are two stories about the homeless. First the background. I don't have that much money, and I've dealt with addicts so I do not give cash or checks to people. I do, however, make sure to carry food with me, in the car, in my pocketbook, or in my pocket. Usually it's whatever DB is taking to schools for snacks that week, fruit rolls, pretzels, and if it's cool out I will keep apples in the car. I eat them too when I get hungry.

There are usually homeless people near off ramps of the major highways, and I ask them first before I hand them food. Just because they're poor doesn't mean that they aren't picky. Then I give them the food and, "Have a nice day, Sir." Why not? Hashem made them too. They deserve respect if only for that reason. Usually after they hear that they give an even bigger smile and stand a little straighter. Yes, I do this for selfish reasons. It makes me feel good to make other people feel good. It always eats at my heart to see someone living on the street. I know how easy it actually is to get there. No, I've never been homeless, but in housing court and possibly evicted without somewhere to go comes darn close.



I was leaving Shmellen's apt. in the city and a man was holding a cup with change and jingling it. He was dressed in clean clothes and didn't really look like he needed it, but who's to say he didn't have a chance to shower and get some new clothes from a shelter. It just so happened that I didn't have food in my pocketbook. The sun had just set. The lights were coming on in the city and the street vendors were packing up.

I asked the gentleman if he would like a banana or two from the fruit cart. He immediately answered yes and I realized that maybe he would like something instead of a banana. Maybe he doesn't like them. I found out that he prefers peaches and I asked for two of them. The man who obviously owned the business instructed his employee to take from a certain box, and I could tell that those were the good peaches.

Once again, I wasn't thinking and I started to hand the peaches to the gentleman. The employee asked him if he would like them in a bag, and the answer was yes. Duh, CR. The owner who had continued packing up added two plums to the bag free of charge without letting the homeless man see. I noticed and made sure to thank him after the gentleman walked away. He tried to shrug it off, but I made sure he knew that it was something good that he did. I gave him a big smile too. He smiled back, and you could see that giving the extra fruit had made him feel good. From the way he acted it looked like he might do that in the future.

As my mother says I got "a bonus"; the appreciation from the gentleman, the extra fruit and the smile from the owner.

I'll write the other story later...