What To Do About Anger

Like I would know.

Very complex life experiences.

I need a mom to lean on, too.

God didn’t give me that mom.

In His beautiful, holy, grace; he made me that mom.

But I am helpless, hopeless, hurt and hobbling.

I have no good answers.

No timeline.

No authority to speak into the lives of people around me.

Who would listen anyway?

It’s only Maggie.

I can only get out half the thought.

Because I’m trying to condense, I cut out volume.  Miss meaning.

Only a few understand, yet it’s not their situation.

I am empty.

Falling.

Need a word, that isn’t forthcoming.

It’s said, that God trusts us in His silence.

He must be about to speak, because there isn’t anything left of me to go on.

 

 

 

 

 

Do You Mind If I Pass?

The girls are in a production about the Civil Rights Movement.  I learned what ‘passing’ was.  It’s when a light-skinned African-American person used ‘white-only’ facilities.  Quietly, respectfully.  Not drawing attention.  Hoping just to sit on a train, for example, if they could.

Oh.

Like me?

I heard my mother and grandmother discussing an event that happened a generation or two ago.  In the process of breaking up housekeeping of one of my great-great-grandparents, a photo was found.  It was a photo of a black woman.  On the back, it said one word…

“Mama.”

At the time, I said nothing.  Sometime later, I referred to that event.  Mother just stared. It was anger and “I-don’t-know-what-you-mean?” at the same time.  Had she forgotten?  Was it a secret?

Nevertheless.

Whose mother? The answer is lost. Only Mother is alive to know it and, she isn’t talking.  There were the great-greats who both died, leaving the little girl who’d be my great grandmother, an orphan.  There is also the great-great who smoked cigars and only changed underwear twice a year–when she put on the winter underwear and when she took them off.  Her son would live 76 years, only to decide to end his life.

Someone kept a photo labeled, ‘Mama’.

My mother was born in the 40s.  My grandmother in the 20s. My great-grandmother died in 2005 at age 93.  If she was still alive, she’d be 101.  Given forty years for the two previous generations, that would place her grandmother’s birth in the year 1867.  Five years after the issue of the Emancipation Proclamation.  If by some chance my forebears in both those generations were older than 20 when my great-great was born, ‘Mama’ could have been born a slave.

It’s possible that the woman in the photo isn’t actually a relative at all, but a nanny.  Someone may have found a photo labeled ‘Mama’, and just never disposed of it.

Neither of those seem terribly likely, as this de-cluttering would have taken place before my grandmother was born.  Would it have been extremely likely that a white person, living in the 1920s in America, would keep a portrait of a black woman labeled ‘Mama”, if it held no personal meaning?

The photo, if kept, wasn’t kept by my branch of the family.  Of whom I am the only descendent.

May I pass?

Feel free.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Taking What Isn’t Yours

Oh, of course, I might be thinking of stealing someone’s things.

In this case, however, I am talking about impatience.

Wanting something that hasn’t been given.

Something isn’t coming fast enough.

I want the harvest without the growing season.

Humans.

So smart.

We can produce a hydroponic tomato.

It looks like a tomato.

Tastes like…  Nothing.

We feel we deserve more.

We know it’s coming.

We want the profit without the accounting,

the privilege without the responsibility,

the authority without the commitment.,

the license without the wisdom,

the freedom without the participation,

Humans.

So silly.

The riches without the rules,

the majesty without the Ruler.

It never satisfies…

 

“Elizabeth: I hardly believe in ghost stories, Captain Barbossa.
Barbossa: Aye. That’s exactly what I thought when first told of the tale. Buried in the island of the dead that which cannot be found except by those who already knows where it is. Find it, we did. And there be the chest… and inside, be the gold. We took them all! Spent ’em, traded ’em and fritted ’em away, for drink and food and pleasurable company. But the more we gave them away, the more we came to realize. The drink would not satisfy, food turned to ash in our mouths, nor the company in the world would harm or slake our lust. We are cursed men, Miss Turner. Compelled by greed, we were. But now, we are consumed by it.”

Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl

 

 

 

Hunting for Sexy Beasts

People get upset when I use the word sexy to apply to things that I find personally very very….

desirable.

Men have been talking about cars that way for a long, long time.  Always.

But let me use it to refer to a handbag or a phone or a curriculum set,

and here we go.

The little smirk.

Condescending chuckle.

Get the point, please.

I feel the way about this…. opportunity.  That a man feels about his fantasy Porsche.

Or I think of this handbag.  Like he thinks of that BMW, he talks about.

SEXY.

Desirable.

Slightly out of reach.

Not in my league, but I know the worth.

Perhaps a little more desirable for it’s inaccessibility.

Leaves you just a little hungry.

Or whatever.

It’s on my mind because I’ve been getting a little practice lately.  Join me.  See if you can find the sexy beast.

No.

 

Let’s continue to search.

 

The 7 year-old, of the species, seats 7 and has an integrated child safety seat.  The children no longer have to be in physical contact at all times when riding.  Apparently, this is mine.  Hands off, Ladies.

Find your own.

Not sexy.  Just beast.  Get. Your. Own.

 

This exact one.  If you’ve noticed a four-fold increase in awkward-disorderliness-resulting-in-accidents-in-the-home, here’s what happened.  On the fourth, we got one of these( a discontinued model for $100 less).  I was ‘wonky’ from “GO!”  In two weeks, the little touchy mouse substitute thingy was o.u.t.  So I got another(30 day guarantee, and they price matched the current model since they were out of turds).

This is my first laptop.

Spell along with me… s-e-x-y-b-e-a-s-t.

Now, that you’ve been on a search for what fits the description of a sexy beast…  A quiz:

Is this a sexy beast?

photo credit: droidlessons.com

Maybe?

I am linking this post with Wordful Wednesday at Parenting by Dummies.

 

 

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