My photo
Drums, Pa, United States
My heart is on my sleeve and my soul is on paper. Please be kind to those around you, we are all glass.

The richness of sybolism

The richness of sybolism
Telling my story with no words

Wednesday, March 24, 2010


I want to live a whole life. Instead of pieces of it all over the place like a player in a sick scavenger hunt. How can so much stifling restraint and exorbitant excess exist in the same person?
I need to be whole for me, my work, my life’s work, my passion, my art, my relationships and future children.
I forget where I’ve hidden the pieces during the times they can’t be seen. The parts that can only be unearthed in certain company.
I want to dig up all the pieces and glue them back together, beauty and ugly and move on. Just move on in one piece with one whole heart and mind.

The Map

We are all trying our best to read this map, with no key.
To keep from leaving too many pieces of ourselves as breadcrumbs, eaten alive before we find our way back.
Don’t fool yourself, we all fumble at best. Some crawling,others walking tall still blind.
Day falls into night, sun a comfort and stars…oh, the stars, a lovely visceral reminder of infinity.
Some of us learn the lay of the land too late, walking in the valley no light on our face. Others remain on the path set before them, face to the sun.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Had I Known

Had i known it would be the last time, I would have memorized every inch...paid more attention.
I would have run my hand over the soft red velvet on the creaky dining room chairs one more time and stood between the bear and deer as I did when I was held as an infant. The twist of the stairs, how I had to duck to make it down, sitting at the bottom with plates of pie talking with the other kids was priceless.

I will never forget you, even though you may me. The days with you burned into my soul forever. Ice cream in the freezer, tomato sandwiches and pastel plastic cups above the sink. Dinners around the table surrounded by loud and lovely family and the best coleslaw you ever tasted. You sat last and were the first to tell us we never ate enough.

Even the bathroom; the fish wallpaper, your knee highs drying on the bar, the sink that usually had no water, wondering what gave witch hazel it's name and finding out the hard way that Fixodent was NOT bubble gum in a tube makes me long for those days. The chenille blanket in the spare room and the picture of all your kids everywhere, family was your heart and soul.

Thank you for being the patient angel in grandma clothing that taught me to love unconditionally and for tickling my back while we watched TV just because you knew I loved that. Had I known it would be the last time I would have smelled more, looked harder and memorized like nothing else.