Monthly Archives: March 2016

A New Start

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Silent as snow falling, Her footsteps fell on the stairs.

No one would hear as she left the cozy, little house.

She had all that she needed packed in her tiny, red bag, to start fresh and new in the big city.

Tears flowed freely as she whispered one last goodbye to the dog she loved and grew up with. It was time.

Time to move on. Time to see if she could make it on her own.

She grabbed her guitar and her red bag and the money she’d saved waitressing. She knew she had to leave now or she’d miss her train.

Scared and excited for what lay ahead, she placed the note on the table. She didn’t know when she’d be back, but she vowed she’d make this work.

Her mama woke, as if on cue. “Sweet girl of mine” she said, “you are destined for greatness. You always have been. I knew this day was coming”.

“Make me proud and make it big. Not just for you, but for all of us here at home. Here’s what I’ve saved for many years.”

“Don’t squander it. Make it grow for you. Now don’t you cry and don’t be late. You have a train calling you.”

With that, the two women hugged like they would never let go, then her mother kissed her and turned away.

She was on her way to a better life to make a new start in the big city with her mama’s blessing. Her determination bigger and stronger than ever. She was going to make it. For her mama.


 

Gratitude

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Soft, fluffy pillows, warm, downy blankets.

Hot, steamy tea with milk and sugar, freshly baked, chocolate chip cookies.

Crab legs, fried shrimp and just caught steamed lobster with melted butter.

Mashed potatoes with milk and butter, fresh asparagus sauteed to perfection.

Hot, sunny days spent at the pool or the beach, thunderstorms and good books with a blanket to snuggle under.

These are things I’m grateful for.

But wait, there’s more to life to be thankful for.

A new morning, a new start to a brand new day.

A child’s laughter, a dog’s bark, a cat’purr, someone to love.

A man who loves me, and whom I love. He’d give me the world if he could.

A place to call home, food to fill my belly, clothes on my back. All our needs fulfilled in plenty.

Birds singing in the trees, grass green as Ireland, flowers of every color, water the color of the sky.

My love I want to share this with you. I want you to see all the little things in life the way I do. I’m grateful. Grateful for them and grateful for you.

Pain in Paradise

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NCH ER is an excellent place to visit when you need emergent care in SW Florida.

Pain. So much pain.

“Follow me” they say.

She does her best to keep up.

She sits, they take blood and insert the IV.

They walk away telling her to stay there for a few minutes.

Back out to the waiting room to wait for a room to become available.

Time to follow them again.

So hard to keep up. They are quick and she hurts. The pain is excruciating.

She does her best to keep up, shuffling along.

She sits on the ER bed. Wow! It’s soft and comfortable. Maybe now she can relax just a little.

But the pain. Sharp, stabbing, radiating into her whole abdomen. She can’t get comfortable. Nothing helps.

More people come in. Time to go to ultrasound. That shouldn’t be bad, she thinks.

Oh, they poke and prod into her ribs, into her abdomen, into the pain. Damn this pain. “Take a deep breath and hold it”, she’s told again and again. She’s told, “stop breathing…now breathe”. The only words from the woman in olive green scrubs with the blonde ponytail. Does she have a name?

In her little room again she finally goes. Her daughter is there at last. Now she’s not alone. Thank God she’s no longer by herself.

Next, vitals. Her nurse is lovely. She’s from Ohio. And her doctor wants a CT scan. They found something on her pancreas. Her heart sinks. She’s now in pain and so frightened.

To CT scan she is whisked away, but after she has pain medication. Ah, pain meds. They hit her head fast and she is somewhere far from here. They could do anything now. She’s sleepy and silly.

She moves to the big slab that enters the donut, aka CT machine. They place her arms above her head. She is comfy! They inject contrast into her veins. The sensation is strangely warming, EVERYWHERE!

In moments she is taken back to her little room to await the results. She is so afraid, but the feeling is overshadowed by goofiness because of the pain medicine.

Her daughter laughs at her antics and asks her questions. She makes a grammatical error and corrects herself which makes her daughter laugh. She puts a tiny rubberband on her nose just because she can. Her daughter takes a picture. Wow! This stuff is wild! She’s so tired but can’t sleep because the doctor will be coming

He enters with news. Pancreatic cyst, pseudocyst or cancer. The question is raised as to where to follow up? She is just here for a week. She will follow up at home.

The physical pain is gone for now, but has been replaced by emotional pain. She will call her husband. She needs his love and support as much as she needs her daughter’s right now.

With prescriptions in hand, She leaves with her daughter. Shocked and saddened but relieved to have a diagnosis at last. The hurt in her heart is a heavy burden but her family are her strength and will help her see this through.

 

Sunshine Adventure

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The cases were packed with care, their faces filled with anticipation.

She would be driving for hours but the excitement was palpable all around her.

She hugged her husband goodbye fighting back tears. She loved him so much, but it’s just a week, she reminded herself.

A week with these kids she loved so much, but they could be wild at times. She would manage and somehow relax. Of course she would relax.

With the van filled with kids and luggage, they left on their 22 hour journey. A journey of adventure to the Sunshine State. Music and laughter filled the van. Would she survive this trip? She would and she learned to enjoy every minute.

Mamma’s Shoes

20151128_123952I remember being small

How my tiny feet felt inside her shoes.

I remember being small

How my tiny hands fit her’s.

I remember being small

How it felt to dance and twirl.

Those days are just memories now.

I want to be more like her

But only my feet full her shoes.

Her vivacious presence laid to rest and all that’s left are shoes.

Spring Morning

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The lush green grass has transformed overnight.

The sunny daffodils and bright tulips raise their blooms.

Spring has awakened and so has my soul.

I’m alive again from the long winter slumber.

Lively, sweet song birds chirp heralding the morning

as I sit with my coffee.

How lovely to begin a new day, my new day,

the first day again, of the rest of my life.

Good morning sunshine, Good morning my beautiful clear, azure sky.

Spring awakens my very soul once more.

I am glad to be alive.

Daddy

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Strong, intelligent, faithful always,

You fill our lives with joy.

Tough when you need to be,

yet gentle as a bird with your words.

Always present, always fearless,

Always proud of what we do.

Thank you for your stories

Thank you for your love.

The Key

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Many roads traveled but which holds the key. The lock has been bolted so long.

One unlocked it but the time was too short, for the key was simply a copy.

The master key, once it is found, will hold the key to her heart.

Without it, I’m told, life too, will grow old and no longer will she have love to share.

She’ll build up a wall made of concrete and stone. The key will be lost forever.

But with help from above she found her someone to love and her heart grew with his forever.

Homecoming

the-reekRolling fields of emerald, forest and grassy green fill the fields.

The cattle low gently as the amber sun sets.

The farmers come in from working in hard on the land

To tea of boiled potatoes, butter, and cabbage.

The scent of the turf fires fills the countryside,

A scent of homecoming and warmth to my senses.

My little car chugs gently down the boreen.

The low stone walls all around, the reek as a backdrop.

The tall grass smacks my car as I pass,

Just past the new church and school now.

I’m home at last,

At home, here in Killawalla.

 

This is a poem dedicated to my dad and his home in the west of Ireland, a place I have always loved and treasured from my childhood.  I hope you can imagine it as I have it written. A boreen is a very small road.  Killawalla is an actual village.