Words

I feel the words.
The sounds touch my face
As I read from the page.
The words detach from the lines:
Dance through the air
Graze my ear lobe.
Cover my eyelids
Tickling my lashes
And swing from my nose.
A delicate smile forms upon my mouth.
They crawl across my neck
And slide down my shoulder
Prickling my arm as they glide.
They gather together
Running into each other inside my palm.
They step to my finger tips
As I grip the page
I turn it for more.

His Hands

Gripped with anger
Coated with cuts
Connected with their noses, jaws, and cheeks.

His hands,
Vacant, took clothes, shoes, and games.
Were quick.
Shook with amateurs.
Entered their home.
Took trinkets, jewelry, and
Were tied.
Education was ripped from his palms.

His hands
Held knives and blades to cut the skin.
Carved symbols to see the blood.
Anything to feel the pain.
Held sticks to hit the drums.
Strummed the guitar.
The sounds blared in his ears.
Anything to hear the music.

His hands
Gripped their flannel, tuxedo, and tank top shirts.
Collected their pay.
Sorted and bagged powder.
Held cigarette blunts and tablets between his fingers.
Touched, kissed, and danced with lights.

His Hands
Aided in a robber’s raid.
Were secured behind his back.
Clung to the bars, sunshine, and his word.

His hands
Were dressed with cuts and lime burns.
Gripped heavy hoses
Climbed unstable ladders
Applied, smudged, and scrapped rock.

His hands
Slipped between mine.
Placed on a ring.
Carried our girl in his palms
Patted her back and held her hands.
Cradled our boy’s neck.
Slid into his finger’s grasp.
.
His hands
Help with all their needs.
The gospel sits on his palms.
Are in God’s hands.
Work, lead, and hold us.
Anything to be a good man.

Above the Calm, Green Waters

Red sneaker shoes
With white looped laces
Positioned securely along the platform edge.
Black straps hooked to his ankles
And blue bungees hang beneath
Above the calm, green waters.
A cool breeze touch his cheeks
Leaving a soft whistle in his ears.
Goosebumps form along his arms.
The smell of pine and fresh water
Fill his nose. He breathes deeper.
The sun shines just above the hills in the distance.
Its rays have yet to warm the air.

He clung to the railing
Breathing in thrill.
His arms shake with intensity.
His knees tremble in anticipation.
He loosens his hold leaning forward.
His gaze touches the waters below
Measuring the distance with his eyes.
His heart beat against his throat.
His breathing shudders.
Inquiry crowds his head
As he unfurls his grip.
He jumps off the platform
Gripping his chest and clenching his legs.

He clamps his eyes shut
Acceleration stings his body.
His blood rushes under his skin.
His stomach clutches his ribs.
The waters draw closer to his face
As the cords yank at his feet.

Our First Night in Mammoth

Remember when we stayed in the cabin
While Mom and Dad went skiing.
I was eight and you were twelve.

Earlier that day you yelled at me
'Cause I peeked over the edge.
I wanted to see how far down the slope was.
Mom told you to leave me alone,
But you were just protecting me.
I knew you were mad 'cause you scrunched your eyes.
I wasn’t a baby, you know. I knew how to ski.

It got really cold and dark
All the way on top of Mammoth.
We could see the beginning of the clouds.
I kept saying it was cold.
I wanted to go and see the cabin.
And you agreed 'cause we went.

The cabin was brown and made of logs.
There were wooden steps out front.
There was a lantern light by the door.
Inside there were bunks and a kitchen.
It was pretty and really warm.
There was a room in the back with a TV.
We found movies and games in the coffee table.

So we played Trouble and watched Sister Act.
I think you were blue and I was yellow.
You were always blue and I never cared.
I probably lost 'cause I always lose
And I probably got upset, too.

You didn’t pick on me, though.
I started to worry about Mom and Dad in the snow.
But you told me Mom wouldn’t get hurt.
I wasn’t worried anyone would get us.
'Cause you were twelve and a strong, big brother.
I think we fell asleep on the floor by the couches
In the TV room watching the end of the movie.

Tatum's Dance

She hears the pitter patter
As her steps hit the hardwood stage.
She slips around the dancers
Taking her place in the middle
Posing.
Her arms curl over her.
Purple bruises go unseen
But she sees them below the spotlight.

The music reverberates against her chest.
The fluorescents snap above her.
She drops her head.
Her hair falls; red strands graze her shoulder.
She glares against the hushed crowd
Smiling.
Her grin reveals her delicate gapped teeth.
They watch with deep expectation.
Though none are there for her
She begins her dance sliding across the floor.

I Stand Here

You spoke words of peace
To me when I was discouraged.
You revealed your wisdom
To me when I felt abandoned.

I search your word
For hope you can see me.
What comes doesn't console me.
God send me scripture
To calm my spirit.
I search the pages
So you'll speak to my heart.
Lord, where are you?
I reach for you and
I grasp the air between us.

I reminisce in the times
I saw you mighty.
The blessings when you were faithful.
When I deserved that dark pit.
I picture the moment you refined me.
God show me your acts.
I search my thoughts
To find you strong once again.
What have I done wrong?
I can't see your hand upon me.

I stand here at your alter
And wait for you to move.
Come show me your face
I want to move on ahead with you.

I, Too

I, too, have been broken.

Look at me
I smile and speak kindly.
I rejoice in your joy.
I have compassion
For the troubled.
I'm happy wihen I'm with you.

But it's a facade.
I can hide my heart.
I can rejoice in your joy.
And pretend to be happy.
But once I leave
The sorrow follows me.

One day I won't be.
I'll be happy all the time
And with me and you.

I, too, am broken.

Shower of Bubbles

Bright caramel chocolate eyed
Squinted with a smile so wide.
Cheeks the color of a Sorbonne Lily.
Delighted wonder was not to hide.

Hair flowed and wrapped in a wind.
Wavy yellow swished behind.
Ran care free atop the grass
Arms spread open nothing to bind.

Clear bulbs of pink and blue pearled
In big and small and medium whirled.
They popped along the face and arms
Wind flew them above and on they swirled.

Fingers clawed feeling the sticky gel.
Breaking their wet, fragile shells
They disappeared, they exploded well.
Leaving the air with a sudsy smell.

The Wounds - A Villenelle

The wounds grip and cut deep
When I push the pain down to hide.
Desire, rejection, neglect heap.

The harder and down farther I push it will seep
From my skin exploding over from the inside.
The wounds grip and cut deep.

The voice and image rings in a beep.
Reasons for my feelings I can not provide.
Desire, rejection, neglect heap.

The more I open and pull down walls, I reap
sadness for my rules I have defied.
The wounds grip and cut deep.

The loneliness I feel and curl up; I weep.
No one comes with me by my side.
Desire, rejection, neglect heap.

The pain and stagnant remain tied.
No change no remorse keep.
The wounds grip and cut deep.
Desire, rejection, neglect heap.

Tumbler

Your smell
uplifts me instantly; it draws me to you.
Your beans. Your grounds. Your brew.
I can hear the pitter patter as you drip
slowly through the open lid into the pot.
I grip the handle and lift over the heated
surface. Scratching along the raised lip.
You bubble in the glass; you’re so hot!
I pour you over until you’ve exceeded
the top. You rush in encircling the low
bottom of my tumbler, gurgling as you
fill up to the almost top. Leaving room
for cream. You sit, staring with a glow
as I stir you to perfection. Sips ensue
once our lips touch. The day resume.

It's Taught Me Confidence

As I looked through the class catelogue at the end of my Spring quarter at the beginning of the year, I thought I should take a writing class before I continue with my general ed. or the lower division classes for my major. There were a lot of things I was interested in besides English and I wanted to sort out what I wanted to take for sure. I decided to take the beginning creative writing class for my major to see what it is that I wanted to do with my life, and I ended up learning more about myself and what I wanted than I thought I would.
Originally, I wanted to take this writing class to see if I should stay in the English major, or devote the rest of my education some where else. I wanted to see if I was good enough to write novels so I didn't have to become a teacher as a backup. I thought if I took the beginning class I'll be able to tell and continue taking higher English classes and literature classes that I don't really care about if I'm going to major in something else. Also, I wanted to see if I'll be willing to do it for the rest of my life. I have a lot of fun writing and I find relief in it, but I wasn't sure if writing is something I really wanted to do as a career or if I was really good at.
I've been in this class for nine weeks now, but by the second and third week of classes I thought I couldn't do this for my life. First, I thought, I'm not good at this. I was too ashamed of my writing to read it allowed in class. And half the time I wasn't able to finish my assignments on time to do so, anyway. My other classmates were way better writers than me. I thought, I should be at that level. I had written two assignments and had recieved the same grade. So, I started thiking you can't learn art, you're supposed to just be good at it. And there was no sign that I was improving. I soon asked myself if I can live the rest of my life without writing. There were many things I could do instead and I started to consider doing something else completely. I wasn't even writing. I wasn't getting the feeling I always get to write and to write something. I wasn't getting any new ideas. I wasn't excited about writing. So, if I gave up on writing novels it wouldn't be a big deal to me.
Then in class one day my teacher had us write a "the first" line for a book. I decided to read it aloud as my teacher advised the week before. He said it was poetic and I used imagery and put the plot in media res: Simon tipped his white pressed hat to his red haired girl waving him off from the docks. I kind of skipped as I walked to my car after class. Something I wrote was poetic? Interesting? And he used my line as an example to explain to the class that in media res means in the middle of things. He told me I used imagery because of the "white" hat and the "red" haired girl. He said it makes you see bright, it makes you feel happiness; joy. But he also told me how to work on it as well. He said tipped and pressed weren't the right verbs and would be more effective if I used other one's. Well, the next few days it seemed like I was being shown that I couldn't just walk away from this. I came up with the idea to use what I've learned in my life for my novels. Like, I had forgotten that I was thinking about quitting. I, then, asked myself as I'm going through each story idea I've planned if the characters are similar and went through each personality for each one. Then I started seeing things to put in stories. A friend of mine has a friend who seems very unique to me. I would use her as a character, name and all. So, I started doing it with sky scapes, distinct land details, like the plateu I see when I drive home, cars, buildings, it all just flooded in! So, I said wait. What am I thinking? It's not can I write? Can I learn how to write good? It's who I am. Every fiber of me screams, "Writer!" I'm weird, creative, emotional, high strung, passionate. I put emphasis on everything (kind of goes with passion, I suppose), I see what's behind the scenes, I have to know what I don't know or understand. I use what I've been through and what I see others go through in my writing, I stare at people to see how they are and how they interact with others, and I get writing ideas from anything (it just comes to me). And the most important thing I couldn't give up was the fact that I love writing on paper, even if it's just a list of things to do, names, or my thoughts. Yeah, writing is art and it has encompassed every part of me.
So, I decided to continue through my class and by the final session, it taught me so many things. For one, it's motivated me to write. I've always has this conflict to write and write right now who cares what else you're doing, but it's actually let me sit down and not worry about what it is that I wanna accomplish and just write. Two, it's allowed me to write without doubt. I didn't tell myself okay that sounds bad, but you can go back and change it later. I started asking myself, is that an effective word, does it tell your readers something about the characters or the plot, does it work there or do I need a different word. Three, when I do write and reread what I've written, it's good. I mean, I've said that before, but there's times where I write something and tell myself that's aweful and I have to start over or completely change it. I often found myself stuck and don't know how to continue. Of course I fixed things here and there (I'm not gonna be perfect), but it makes me excited to continue. Hands clapping, jiggling in my seat excited. And where I can say, yeah there's a big difference. Four, Hershberg's told me that I need to trust my strong verbs. I have strong verbs? I always struggled to find the right word and it turned out the one's I didn't even try hard on worked better. And I have great tension building dialogue between the characters and to just trust in it. He's told me to write what I really mean and fix stupid grammer (that's my own emphasis).
All-in-all, Hershberg and my classmates have given me the confidence. The confidence to write, but also the confidence to know what I'm good at and where I need to practice. I still don't quiet know if being a good writer is what I'll become. I don't know if I could become the writer publishers and readers want. But this class leaves me excited for the future and the willingness to write and to try; to learn all I can to possibly become that good writer.

Starting Over - Chapter One (possibly)

Annabelle kicked a piece of gravel away from her foot and watched it topple a few feet across the parking lot. She stretched her leg out in front of her. She yawned and shifted her body on the flat concrete she was sitting on.
The parking lot was still pretty full from dance rehearsal letting out. Annabelle could see a more cars on the other side outside the K and M buildings. She wasn't used to so many cars after practice. It let out an hour early tonight, but it had never been this full before. It comforted her; made her feel like she wasn't stranded.
Annabelle glanced at the entrance gate hoping Isaac would pull into the parking lot soon. She felt like he should've been there by now. She couldn't know what time it was without her phone, but knew she'd been sitting in the hallway for a while.
She wanted to pull out her books and start on her homework so she won't be up late doing it. There wasn't enough light to accomplish anything. She thought about walking to the baseball field to in the bleachers under the street light. She thought Isaac might not see her and just drive away. Instead, she stared at the dark wall in front of her occasionally glancing at the entrance when cars drove along the main street.
Annabelle could see apartments above the wall. Some had their lights on, but others were completely dark as if they weren't home. Too bad she didn't live this close so she could walk home, she thought.
"Man, I need to learn how to drive."
Annabelle remembered her brother and Zach leaving for college next weekend. She'd start her life over once their gone. No more late practice, complicated college-needed classes, and she could finally be around Kyle.
Annabelle couldn't keep her mind off of Kyle. She could tell because she tried a lot, separate herself from him, pledged her love to Zach, though it was a lie, and watched him with other girls instead of turning her head. She couldn't shake his heart-wrentching image. She couldn't stop from wanting to touch him; be near him, though it didn't help that they worked together. Another thing Isaac manipulated or talked her into, she couldn't remember which exactly, but there all the same anyway.
"Belle?" She heard Kyle's voice from across the parking lot. He was putting something bulky in his trunk. He shut it and walked closer towards her.
She didn't even realize that was his green Toyota. Then again, how could she without noticing the sun patches on the passenger door and hood. He had saved for a while for a car and ended up spending less on it. He used the rest of the money for art supplies, she imagined. The car fit him. It was familiar, worn, but with experience. And he never really works on it so it must have a good engine.
Kyle stood over Annabelle. He puts his hands in his pockets. He began to shuffle gravel with is feet as if trying to think of something to say.
"Why you here so late?" Annabelle spoke. She wanted to stand up. She felt uncomfortable with him over her, but what would she do with her hands? She could put them in his pockets too, but Zach wouldn't like that very much.
"I had an art show. My teacher chose a picture of mine and you get to bring two others."
"Wow that must've been amazing." Annabelle smiled. She knew how important his paintings were to him. She would have liked to see the art show.
"Nah, my teacher chose three others, too. Only our parents came," Kyle said in a soft voice shrugging his shoulders," there's were so much better than mine. I haven't been able to do very good drawings; I guess I have a lot to think about for next year."
A group of people came out of the art room just outside the K building. They went to their cars, opened doors, and talked to each other making it hard for Annabelle and Kyle to keep their conversation.
"Where's your parents?" Annabelle asked.
"My dad's in Twenty nine Palms till the end of the summer. And my mom looked at my paintings then left. She has to get up really early everyday to work at the hospital."
Annabelle nodded her head. She pinched her lips together with her fingers. She couldn't think of anything to talk about. She wasn't sure why Kyle was one of her really close friends. They had enough in common, especially talking about music and art. It might have had something to do with Isaac and Zach leaving for college.
"What are you doing here? Don't you normally have dance on Wednesday's?"
"Yeah, they let out early again. There's really no need for practice since the quarter's almost over. I shouldn't've even come, but you know Isaac. He wants me to secure my place for next year." Annabelle could tell her tone was a little agitated.
Kyle stepped in front of Annabelle and sat next to her on the curb. He put his arm around the pole since there wasn't much room between them. He kept his face forward as if he was keeping his distance.
"Why haven't you called your brother? It's not good to sit out her in the dark all alone."
"I got my phone taken away again." Annabelle glanced at Kyle knowing he'd give a disapproving look. She'd gotten it taken away the night before for not calling when she hung out after work. Her mom wouldn't care, she just wanted to be informed. Annabelle had a bad habit of forgetting to call when she was around Kyle and his friends.
"You want me to give you a ride home?"
"What time is it?"
Kyle pulled out his phone. He pushed some buttons and it lit up. "Seven twenty. He's a little late."
Annabelle turned her lip and shook her head. It was typical of Isaac to make her wait; to make her do anything really. She took his phone out of his hands and accidentally touched his thumb. What a nice feeling, she thought. She'd touched his hand before, but Kyle made everything new all over again.
She pressed "I" and scrolled down to Isaac. She clicked send holding the phone to her ear. Annabelle looked at Kyle. She could kind of see his beautiful amber eyes from the light across the parking lot. She could see him look back into her eyes and quickly turn his gaze to the asphalt. She leaned over resting her head on his shoulder. She rubbed her index finger along his arm from his wrist to the top of his elbow.
"What do you want, Kyle?" Isaac spoke in a huffy voice.
"What's your problem?" Annabelle asked.
"Oh, hey Belle. What are you doing with Kyle's phone?"
"He's letting me use it, obviously," Annabelle said," why aren't you here, yet?"
"We're leaving right now. Cops just ended, you know how it is."
Annabelle rolled her eyes. She sighed.
"Tell him I can take you home if he hasn't left since I'm here," Kyle said in a whispered voice.
Annabelle nodded.
"What's he saying?" Isaac spoke louder speaking into the phone.
"Nothing. Kyle's taking me home."
"No! We're leaving right now."
"Who?" Annabelle raised her eyebrow. "Just stay there."
"Zach wants to see you before he has to go home anyway."
"Oh, Zach's with you," Annabelle said expressing her disappointment. "Kyle's already here. I'll have to wait another twenty minutes."
"Your waiting for me," Isaac spoke with a belittled tone speaking each word carefully.
"Okay, we'll see. See you at home, Isaac."
Annabelle pressed end. Isaac wasn't going to control her this time. She was going to set her foot down no matter how awful he'd make her feel about it later. She didn't know what his problem was with Kyle anyway; they used to be really close. Annabelle set the phone in his hands. She lifted her head and stood up.
"Let's go." Annabelle pointed her thumbs towards the car. "I mean, if that's okay?"
"Of course." Kyle stood up with a big smile on his face. He picked up her backpack and threw the strap on his shoulder.
Annabelle enjoyed it when he took care of her. Taking her home in his own car; carrying her backpack with his muscled arms. He didn't carry her stuff when Zach was around, but she didn't blame him. They walked to his car. He unlocked the passenger side first. Annabelle lifted the tough handle and listened to the door creak as she opened it. She sat on the cream seat stretching her legs out across the spotless floor.

The Unwelcome Guest

The Unwelcome Guest
Adrienne pulled along the curb just before the mailbox making sure her tires were in the cement. She took a deep breath as she put the car in gear and ended the ignition. Looking at the house, she could see that it was dark inside with a faint glare in the window.
Great, Tom is still up.
Adrienne grabbed her briefcase and got out of her car. She walked across the grass peering inside as she got closer to the house. She reached the security door and saw her mom’s laptop switch to its screensaver.
Yes, they must’ve just gone to bed. I could do laundry in peace.
Adrienne unlocked the door. She went inside and quietly shut it behind here. She glanced upstairs and saw her mom’s bedroom wasn’t wide open. She slowly walked down the hallway to the family room. She could hear the dryer spinning and the washer churning. She opened the laundry room doors to look inside.
41 seconds. Guess I’m gonna be up late. She must’ve just gone to bed.
Adrienne pushed the doors closed making the wheels squeak. She gritted her teeth and tried to be quieter. She went in the bathroom to get her clothes and saw the basket was emptied.
“Urg, why can’t you leave my stuff alone?” She said quietly to herself.
Adrienne went into the garage. She pulled out shirts, jeans, and socks stacking them in her arms. She tossed her mom’s clothes on the floor to find more of hers. She saw the phone on the pool table and dialed. She listened through the rings and heard Tristan answer.
“Hey, I just wanted to say good night,” Adrienne said.
“Okay, goodnight. Call me tomorrow. Do you have some jeans washed for me?”
“Yeah, I will. Give me to Wendy.” She took the clothes inside dropping a view on the carpet as she walked. She saw the vacuum in the middle of the room with the cord lain out on the floor. She tossed the clothes into a pile in front of the couch.
You think I care that you vacuumed? Just something else for you to use, well guess what, I don’t really care.
“Hi, momma. Where you at?”
“I’m at home. Where are you?” Adrienne asked.
“I’m at Kelley’s house and grandma’s house, grandma Bristol.”
“Are you getting along with Wallie and your cousin?”
“Kay. Goodnight. See you Friday. Be safe,” Wendy said. She shuffles to someone else making the phone make a static sound in the receiver.
Adrienne smiles at Wendy’s silliness. She holds the receiver to her shoulder with her jaw. She looks around for the remote and clicks on the TV. The channel blares as the picture comes in. Crap! She frantically lowers the volume.
“Mom?” Wallace gets on the phone.
Adrienne holds the phone to her ear, “yeah kid, it’s me. What are you up to?” She begins to sort the clothes into separate matching piles. She sat on the couch setting the remote next to her.
“I’m ‘bout to sit at the table to eat dinner with grandma and grandpa. I think grandma made spaghetti and meatballs.”
“That’s dad’s favorite.” Adrienne tucks the phone under her jaw to use two hands. “You finished your homework, right?”
“Yeah, I didn’t have a lot. I got to ride bikes with Kelley and her friends on the street. Then Auntie came and picked her up, so I didn’t do anything till you called,” Wallace’s voice faded from the receiver. There was chatter in the background, “Okay, grandma, I’m coming, I’m talking to Adrienne.”
“Mom, why can’t I stay with you while I’m in school?” Wallace asked.
“Because your dad and I don’t have a babysitter for you and my jobs already too far from your school to drive back and forth. It’s just until your grandpa gets better,” Adrienne takes a deep breath. “I’ll let you eat, kid. You mind your grandma, okay. Are you helping your dad with Wendy?”
She heard him sigh and say, “yeah mom, love you. Here’s dad.”
“Hey, babe. How was work?” Tristan asked.
“Good, it was pretty busy, but Candace wants me to do some paper work tonight. Did you call the Union today?”
“Yeah. Ernie says their going to get some work back in a couple weeks.”
“He said that a couple of weeks ago,” Adrienne shook her head pressing her lips together, “I can’t stand it here anymore, Tristan.”
“I know babe, but it’s the only thing right now. You know when work picks back up we’ll be able to get another place. This time we’ll prepare for it being this slow. Come over tomorrow and you can drive to work early in the morning. I really wanna see you and the kids miss you,” Tristan said in a soothing voice, “I love you, babe.”
Adrienne closed her eyes and said trying to keep composure, “love you too, hun.”
Adrienne pressed off on the phone and set it on the couch. She stood up to wrap up the cord to the vacuum and rested it along the bar in the kitchen. She sat on the couch and grabbed a pair of jeans checking the pockets. She tossed them in the hallway in front of the laundry room doors.
Adrienne finished sorting the clothes and rushed upstairs. She glanced at her mom’s door and saw that it was cracked open. She turned the light on in the bathroom to keep the glare out of her mom’s room.
There were a pile of clothes on the floor in the loft. The boxes that were in the hall closet were now in her bedroom doorway. I don’t go in your room and get into your things. Stay out of my stuff! Adrienne put the clothes back in the hamper in her room. She shoved the boxes along the closet doors getting them out of the way. She stood up and sighed as she looked at her cluttered room. She pushed the hamper into the loft towards the stairs.
Adrienne heard voices from her mom’s room. She rolled her eyes and slowly slid the hamper down each step. She could hear the ceiling creek from movement in her mom’s room. She continued to sort the clothes ignoring the sound of their heavy footsteps on the stairs. Each step squeaked under their weight. She rubbed her forehead and raised the volume on the TV station. She could hear the rasping of her mom’s slippers against the tile.
It stopped and Adrienne guessed they were in the room. She saw Tom open the garage door and step outside. She could tell her mom was standing behind her or somewhere in the hallway staring. Adrienne continued sorting occasionally glancing up at the program.
Cecelia walked onto the carpet. She picked up a p,hurple shirt and set it in a pile of darker clothing. She was wearing a blue nightgown with some kind of faded critter patterned down to the seam covering her excessive belly just bellow her butt. Her wavy blonde hair was wrapped in a clip. She rested her hand on her hips.
“Is Tristan gonna bring Wendy over Friday? She’s been gone for, what two weeks?” Cecelia stretched her night gown further down her thighs. She began to rub her wide arms, “It’s chilly down here.”
“Tristan’s helping his dad right now. I don’t know what his plans are for this weekend. Did I wake you up?”
“No, we were watching a movie upstairs. He’s not gonna bring that boy?”
“Yeah mom, that boy is his son, of course he’s gonna bring him.” She could hear agitation in her own voice. “Are you done with laundry?”
“I’m gonna put a load of jeans and then you could use it. You know we might be going to the desert this weekend. I just bought a pipe for the razor, Tom’s going to put it on and he wants to work on the sand rail before Thanksgiving.”
“Okay.” Adrienne flipped a logo shirt inside out and set it next to her. She picked up the purple shirt and put it where it was before. “Isn’t it going to be boring for you?”
Go away please.
“Yeah, but I was thinking I could take Wendy so she can learn more on her quad.”
“Can you put your load in the washer so that I can start laundry? And no she’s not gonna go if your not gonna take Wallie.”
“No, he’s a pain. He gets into everything. And you’re not the one that has to clean after him.” Cecelia goes to the laundry room to put her clothes into a basket and then the dryer.
Adrienne pressed pause on the DVR. Here we go. She reached to the bottom of the hamper and pulled out a bundled sock. She unraveled it and tossed it with the socks.
“Mom, you know I clean after my kids. What do you think I’m doing now?” Adrienne curled up her lip. Did I ask you why? All as said is you have to take him too and it turns into a big huge guilt trip.
“Well, the bathroom was filthy. He just makes a mess and he’s loud. Why should you have to take care of him, he’s not your kid?” Cecelia’s voice echoed from the laundry room.
That’s what it’s really all about.
“We all use the bathroom.” She said in a monotonous voice.
“Oh, by the way, Tristan needs to stop leaving his stuff around or I’m gonna throw it away. I need you to give me some money for the bills it’s due on the twenty-sixth, but I need to send it out before we leave for Thanksgiving weekend-“
“Can you ask Tristan to mow the lawn on Thursday before the trash gets taken out?” Tom walks inside and heads down the hall before she could respond.
Adrienne opens her arms. Okay then, guess it wasn’t a question. She stared at the carpet pretending to concentrate on Cecelia as she started listing complaints and things that need to be done. She didn’t want to look at her mom. She forced a smile and rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers.
How am I supposed to look at her? How am I supposed to “respect” her like this? Does she realize what she’s doing? No nothings ever enough.
Cecelia came out of the laundry room. “I’m having my surgery on Tuesday, so I’m gonna need you to be here to take me because I won’t be able to drive afterwards.”
“Tom can’t do it? I have to work.”
“No, Tom has his weekends. He chose Tuesday’s and Wednesday’s instead of Saturday and Sunday.”
Yeah, so he can party on the weekends. What a loser!
“You can tell Wallace’s mom to take him while I’m recovering so I don’t have to deal with him.”
“Oh my gosh mom! He’s a boy, he’s gonna be rowdy and adventurous. Besides, his mom’s not in the picture; she never has been. I’m the one who’s helped raise him for five years now. I’m his mom it’s time for you to finally get used to it.” Adrienne picked up her jeans and threw them in the washer with her mom’s load. She grabbed her briefcase and went towards the stairs.
“This is something else I have to do now. No.”
“Just leave it, mom. I’ll do yours too it’s not a big deal.” Adrienne jammed up the stairs ignoring what else her mom had to say. “Urg!” She went in her room and shut the door. She opened her briefcase ripping out her folders of paperwork. She sat on her bed and tried to read them over.
Cecelia walks in her room carrying a pile of wet jeans. She drops them to the floor. “I’ll need my money by the morning,” she says nonchalant.
Adrienne’s mouth opens. She raises her eyebrow and watches her mom walk out the door. Adrienne stares at the pile of soaked jeans unsure of what to think. She let out a chuckle and went back to her paperwork.
I’ll just use the laundry mat then. And I won’t have to pay as much of your stupid bills. Guilt trips are longer going to work, mom.


Adrienne stood in front of her mother-in-laws house holding her hamper in her arms. She rubbed her forehead as she waited for someone to answer the door.
Kelly yanked the door open with a smile on her face knowing who it was. “Auntie!” She stepped outside and wrapped her arms around Adrienne’s stomach.
“Okay Kelly, it’s nice to see you, too. Can you let me in so I can see my family?” Adrienne grinned.
“My mom says I can spend the night cause she has to work really late so she’ll pick me up after school tomorrow.” Kelly stepped into the foyer and walked down the entryway.
“Are you happy about that?” Adrienne leaned her head to the side pondering.
“Yeah.” Kelly went into the family room. “Guess whose here, Wallie?”
Adrienne dragged her hamper inside and left it in the entryway. She shut the door and walked in. She could smell something frying in the kitchen and took a deeper whiff.
“Mommy!” Wendy runs from the family room and rams her face into Adrienne’s thighs making her take a step back.
Adrienne picks Wendy up and holds her in her arms. Wendy rests her head against Adrienne’s shoulder. She could hear a muffled I missed you. “I missed you, too, baby.” She walks into the family room and spots Wallie in front of the TV waiting for a greeting. “Come here, kid.”
Wallace stands up and hurries to hug her waist. He clenches tightly resting his cheek over her belly button.
Has it been that long? Man, I can’t wait till we get another place.
“When are you gonna come home?” Wendy asks with inquisitive voice.
“You mean when are you gonna go home?” Adrienne kisses her cheek.
Wendy lifts her head and looks at Adrienne’s face. “No. When you gonna come home. Not this house the other house?”
“Grandma Russo’s house?”
“No! The other house.”
Adrienne sets Wendy on the ground. She kisses Wallace on the forehead. “We don’t live at that house anymore, baby. We’ll get our own house real soon, but it won’t be that one. Come on; show me where you’ve been sleeping.”
Wallace takes Adrienne’s hand and pulls her towards the hallway. Wendy begins to whine about their old house. Wallace yanks harder talking about having a TV in his new room and how it used to be his dad’s room.
Adrienne stumbles over a toy, but braces herself against a couch. She catches a glimpse of Tristan coming in the kitchen from the backyard. He grins and drops tongs he was holding on the counter.
He steps around the sink walking towards her. He was wearing a green flannel with a stainless white shirt underneath. I love it when he dresses up. His hair brown hair is styled back. His cheekbones were puffy and his skin was dark under his eyes. He hugged her shoulders and pressed his lips against her neck.
Adrienne let her eyes drift close. She took a deep breath rubbing her cheek against his ear. She stepped back and stared into his hazel eyes. She could see flour on his cheek and grease on his nose, but didn’t care. What a dork. She kissed his mouth caressing his cheek with her palm.
“Mommy, I thought you wanted to see my new room?” Wallace asked pulling her hand in his direction.
“I missed you babe,” Tristan said. “I made chicken.”
“I brought laundry and I paid my mom fifty dollars.”
“Good. You brought jeans.” Tristan said calmly forging a smile.
“I had to, hun. And no, I brought laundry to wash.” Adrienne gritted her teeth.
“That’s fine, babe. You’re here and that’s all that matters. How was work?”
“Mommy!” Wallace shook Adrienne’s hand.
“Okay, okay.” Adrienne followed Wallace trying to look back at Tristan. “How’s your dad?”
Tristan shrugged his shoulders. “He’s barbequeing.”
Is that good?
Wallace pulled Adrienne into the room. There was a TV against the wall. There were scattered toys on the floor and a desk next to the closet. Wallace and Wendy’s bags lay next to the bed. Tristan’s camping bag was rolled up and tucked under the mattress.
Adrienne let out a breath letting her cheeks puff out. It’s enough for now. It has to be better here.
Tristan came into the room rested his arm on the door frame. He stared at Adrienne. “It’s lime chicken.”
Adrienne stared at Tristan while Wendy and Wallace raved over their new room and how they get to share with their dad. She shook her fingers through Wallace’s brown hair. Adrienne grabbed Wendy’s hand fitting her fingers in her palm. She looked up at Tristan and smiled tilting her head to the side.

What Is It?

On Sunday when Michael asked us to remember that God is all around us and with us that day and to praise knowing that, well, it made me sad. But not a sad sorrowful sad, a yearning sad. I've always had this desire, well, I've had it for quiet sometime and it comes and goes, that I wanna see God. Yeah, we all have the desire to see that person that created us and who saves us, but it gets to the point where I cry because I desire it that badly. Well, when I was in my car, you know cause that's when I pray the most for some reason, and I was asking him why it is that I always resort to wanting to see his image. And I feel bad, too. You know I can see him in a lot of things. When I look at nature I can see how big he is, his power, his creativity, his vastness. In the wind or when I look at the stars I can see his might and power. In the lives of his children I can see his love. And I've seen thousands of people joined together to praise him and show their devotion to him. That's not our love, well it is, but it's mainly his love because he sustains us, he doesn't give up on us. I see his compassion and provision when we're all singing on Sunday. And even that unity makes me even more sensitive than I already am at those moments. I see him in the lives of couples, I see their bond and know that intimacy God has for us. I see his safety and his care in my own relationship and the relationship I have with my daughter. I see his guidance, his grace, his inticateness, his justice, his order (having things in order) in his Word. I see his character everywhere, so I should feel like that's enough and yet I still want more. You know, I feel like God reveals a lot to me (I'm not saying more than others just that he does more than when I was little). I know things before they happen sometimes, I can tell when someone's upset (sometimes), I know what he wants when I ask him and he's willing to show me, I can feel his encouragement and will, I can hear what he says in my mind, I've felt him touch me when I'm sad and yet I still ask for more? And I know I won't be able to see his image untill he comes again or untill I die. So, I just say I can't wait till you come or I can't wait till I see you. Well, I was thinking that, what is it that makes me want to see him so badly? Do I want to see him so I know that he's real? I don't think so, I know he's real by just looking at the stars. I have no doubt in my mind that he's real, obviously I notice him everywhere. Is it because I wanna know what he looks like or who it is that I talk to? I don't think so, I could care less what he looks like because his image really isn't that important ( and I mean that in the most respect, because I care about all of who God is). Then I thought, maybe it's because if I see him, if I touch his hand and he wraps his arms around me, I'll know just how much he loves me. I know that he loves me a lot, but I'll know exactly. And if I see him nothing will matter because he's the most important thing ever. All my fears, all my dreams, all my troubles will just melt away because the only thing that'll matters is that intimacy that I'll recieve. My desire, my yearning, all that I work for will be met there. It makes me sad just picturing it. I hope that when that day comes it will be far better, I should say "far" a million times, than what I imagine. And I can't wait till he comes and I can't wait till I see him face to face.

Starting Over - Belle's Road Trip

Belle’s shoes rested on the red bucket seat under her. She held her knee’s against her chest and laid her chin on the beige interior. She stared out the back window at the sandy, barren hills. She didn’t want to be here, she thought. Kyle made her come, just like everybody else in her life. He wanted them to include her, but she wasn’t sure what she wanted anymore. She began a reverberating hum that seemed to resonate throughout the hushed car.
There was only about an hour more of light remaining. It left a purple tint atop the golden dunes leading into blue hues that grew bolder the higher you went. The sun was behind them now trying to melt underneath the horizon.
Ashley kept her gaze on the ceiling trying not to notice Belle’s noises. She had her arms crossed over her stomach and began weaving her knees side to side hitting the door handle with her left knee.
Oscar’s chair was reclined all the way back leaving little room for Belle behind him. His face was toward Kyle in the passenger’s seat. His breathing was rasping, but dulled as he repositioned leaving a wet spot on the seat.
Ashley glanced over at Belle with an agitated expression hoping she’d realize it and stop humming. She sat up in her seat to get her pink makeup box. She opened it, examined herself in the mirror, and reapplied more color. She flipped her chestnut hair over her shoulders as she brushed through it with her fingers. Then she offered Belle the mirror holding it out for her.
Belle shook her head knowing she wasn’t looking her best. She didn’t want to look spectacular so that they might think she wanted to be there. Or Kyle might get the impression she really did like him. So, before she got in the car she threw her blonde hair in a loose bun and used no makeup.
Kyle kept his eyes on the dark road in front of him as he struggled to keep his Wrangler in between the fading lines. He squeezed his lids shut to stop the burning. He could still see the arid landscape with patches of cacti and Joshua trees with what was left of the sunlight.
“Stop it already, Belle,” Ashley said with an irritated tone.
“Just trying to get a little music in this annoyingly, quiet car,” Belle explained.
Kyle peered at what he could see of Belle’s face in his rear-view mirror. She formed a large smile showing her white, strait teeth. He stared at her light brown eyes until she turned away to cover her face with her grey hood and lay against the window. He guessed she was ready to finally fall asleep.
Belle quietly hummed a familiar tone she would make before Zach came into her life. Now that he’s gone off to college maybe things will go back to the way they were before; the way they should’ve stayed, he thought.
“Stop humming already! It’s annoying,” Ashley snapped.
“Well, if there was music,” Belle said rubbing in the fact that she wouldn’t agree to music everyone else wanted in the last hour.
“How about country? You like country right, Ashley?” Kyle assumed.
“Love songs,” Belle argued with a grin.
Kyle turned the radio on. He tuned to a song he remembered as a child: “Leader of the Pack”.
Ashley began bouncing and swaying in her seat along with the tempo. She tried to sing the words skipping the ones she didn’t know, but kept singing anyway.
“I’d rather hear country than your version of an oldie’s song,” Belle complained.
“Ha, ha,” Ashley said sarcastically, “not everyone can sing, Belle, miss perfect-voice.”
Belle smiled at Ashley and said, “No just you.”
Ashley pouted her face. She whirled her head and looked out the window on her side of the car. She rewrapped her arms and rested them, once again, on her stomach. She turned her knees along with her whole body towards the door.
“Where’s your boyfriend?” Ashley teased keeping her face away from Belle. She shaped a smirk on her face thinking her comment would do to Belle what began to feel.
“Ashley!” Kyle yelled trying to get the bickering to stop before it continued further.
“I don’t know, you tell me,” Belle said.
“Girls!”
“I broke up with him,” Belle revealed, “but you knew that. In fact, you’ve talked to him since he’s been gone.”
Ashley snickered and criticized saying, “figures, you’ve always thrown away the things you care about the most like their worthless.”
“As opposed to someone who throws away the people that care about you by the way you treat them,” Belle argued, “Kyle and Oscar don’t wanna be forced to do things. I would know.”
“Since when do you care what they think or what they want? You take what you want and push it off and want nothing to do with it. But only now, your gonna end up hurting Kyle worse than you did Zach.”
Kyle jerked the car into the tight emergency lane and parked. He got out of the car and opened Ashley’s door. He grabbed Ashley by her shirt, pulled her out, and stuffed her in the driver’s seat.
“What are you doing?” Ashley panicked.
“You’re driving,” Kyle ordered, “just drive until you see lights then wake up Oscar, I’m too exhausted to talk to you. He knows where the hotel is so don’t argue.”
Oscar lifted his seat. He looked at Kyle with an eyebrow raised. He gave Ashley a pathetic look.
“You really can’t sing even though Belle’s a singer,” Oscar sided.
“Ha!” Belle instigated.
“And you do throw things away like they don’t mean anything to you, but they really do. Why are you trying to get rid of us, we’re better than Zach and your brother anyway?” Oscar informed, “And quitting the choir. What the hell is your problem?”
Belle took down her hood looking at Kyle pulling on his seatbelt. She set her hand on his shoulder.
“Great trip, Kyle. We’re instantly best friends.”
“You’re not even trying,” Kyle criticized.
Kyle closed his eyes and laid his head on the window seal with his back against the seat. He fought the urge to open his eyes to look at her as he let his body fall into it’s needed stillness.