My Grandmother

My grandmother had a gold box that sat on the table next to her chair. It was a large table and on the other side of the table was my grandfather’s chair. His was more worn and sank deeper when you sat since it had held his large frame so many years. His sat empty for a few years while my grandmother still occupied her chair on her side of the table. He chair faced the TV and the only thing I clearly remember her watching was the Cowboys. The gold box that was on her side of the table within her reach held things that she needed on a regular basis, an emery board, needles for needlepoint, a tiny pair of scissors, an extra pair of reading glasses, a thimble, a twenty dollar bill, and mints. These are the things I remember being in the box. The box was the length of a legal sized envelope and a few inches high. It was lined in a dark fabric, no latch or lock. The gold was dull and I remember there being some sort of pattern on the lid.


I don’t remember her ever telling me I could not look in this box and I don’t think I ever snuck a peek when she was not in the room, but I do recall thinking that the box was private and grown up. Looking back I think it was just a simple box to control clutter and hold things she used on a regular basis. I am sure there were other random things in there that I don’t remember or never saw.

Public Restrooms + Skittles

I was driving to Fort Worth to visit my mother. I stopped at a random gas station to use the restroom. I walked into the woman’s bathroom where there were two stalls. I don’t know who had been in there prior or what exactly they had done, but they left one of the worst odors I have ever experienced in my life. I held my breath and ran into a stall. Right behind me was a mother and her little girl and they went into the other stall. I hear the little girl say, “Mom it smells like Skittles in here.” The mother started laughing and so did I. I am not sure how the little girl connected the two odors because for me they were worlds apart. I now laugh whenever I hear someone say Skittles and I will never be able to eat them again.

Coffee Shop

I am sitting in a coffee shop late on a Wednesday afternoon and a young guy and girl are here to hang his art. It looks to be silk screened onto some sort of canvas. He is using push pins in the wall and then precariously balancing the frame of the canvas onto the wall. He also looks like he is going to jump out of his skin due to nervous energy. He is wearing a floppy fishing hat and seems to want to crawl inside so no one see him. No one is paying attention to him really. I can only assume that this is a relief as well as adding to his anxiety, “What do they hate my art? Do they not even see it?” No one has said a word. One man just looked up annoyed, I am not sure at the art or that the girl that has arrived with the young man is straightening the piece just hung behind him and it has slipped from the push pin and made a loud noise. I think they may be depictions of celebrities, though exactly which ones I am not sure.


It has been ten minutes since the young man and woman left. One of his pieces just fell from the wall. Everyone looked around wondering who was going to care enough to pick it up. A girl with long brown hair just slowly rose from her table and walked over pulling the piece from the floor and propping it up so that at least it is no longer face down.

Marriage

I picked up Elizabeth Gilbert’s newest book “Committed: A Skeptic Makes Peace with Marriage” today. I was a big fan of her “Eat, Pray, Love” and I happened to read it at the end of a nine year relationship that I had not anticipated the end of. I got to go on a healing journey through a book and I do believe it helped me. I am not a big fan of so called self help books and I truly do not believe that is what Gilbert wrote. I think she simply wrote her story and people related to it and found solace and familiarity in her words. I have also read another one of her books, “The Last American Man”, this work was what she was more known for before “Eat, Pray, Love” she wrote about men and maleness. “The Last American Man” is about Eustace Conway and his struggle to live with and off the land as early American Indians did. He wanted to help pass on this knowledge to others. He also struggled with doing this in a modern society and proving himself as worthy to his father. It was a great book. Gilbert became good friends with Eustace and you got a very good idea of his life and the struggle that seemed ever present in his mind.


Gilbert’s latest book picks up where her last left off, in love with a man and happy. From the reviews and previews the book covers Gilbert coming to terms with marriage. In order for the man that she loves to stay in the states they must get married (he has Australian citizenship I believe) and Gilbert is willing to do this but it sounds like it is not something she is looking forward to.

Before I have even started the book it has made me think about my past, current, and future relationships. I mentioned that I was once in a relationship that lasted nine years. We lived together for nine years, never breaking up and never getting married. For a long time I really had no interest in getting married, I didn’t feel that we needed to; I also thought we would last. Do I think that if we had gotten married that we would have lasted? No. I think it would have ended much the same. I have now been living with another man for over a year, we dated a year before I moved in, unlike my last long term relationship where we knew each other for two days and then he moved in. I now want to get married. I am not sitting around tapping my toe wondering every minute when he will propose, but I want one day to get married to this man and have a family. I believe he is the man who I am supposed to have a family with and raise children. I don’t have an exact outline of how this will all occur but I see a big picture which for me is ok for now.

Cape Cod

I had the luxury of spending a good part of my summer in Cape Cod the summer after my freshman year of college. My boyfriend at the time was living in his grandmother's summer house and I was living in Boston but spent much of my time at this house. The boyfriend worked the breakfast shift at a restaurant in town so I woke up most mornings alone under more covers than I usually use in winter at home in Texas. I would shuffle into the kitchen to pour myself a cup of coffee. I would grab my journal and put on my house shoes. I don't remember where I got there house shoes or why because they were not particularly comfortable since they were made of rattan. They were slip on and bulky, they were perfect for this morning walks on the Cape though. I would step out the back screen door and walk through the wet grass into fog. I would start down the street and then take a left down another short street. I made sure to stay on the grass since I could barely see a foot in front of me I assumed anyone in a car would not see me. I don't recall ever seeing a car go by though on these mornings. I would eventually hot the beach and I would sit, drink coffee and think. The fog would start to roll back and I would gradually see a foot in front of me, then the edge of where the water was lapping the shore, and then the sea itself. By this time I could see my journal and the fog would also have cleared from your head and I would write. I would write what I had done the day before, feelings, dreams, anything that came to mind. That summer I lived in Boston/Cape Cod I wrote in my journal every day, I should find the box in my closet where it has been living and see what I did, dreamt, and thought.

Quotes for Life

At the high school I attended many years ago you got an entire page for your senior year photo. Parents would have photos professionally done and then you would submit your photo as well as a quote. I still remember mine without looking back in that yearbook, "There is a thin line between Saturday night and Sunday morning." - Jimmy Buffet I don't remember why exactly why I chose this quote. If I had to chose a quote today nothing jumps off my tongue. I would look around in favorite books or look up what some of my favorite people said. Really,I hope I never have to pick a quote again. I feel as though picking a quote or motto that best describes you is a like a verbal photograph, will that truly be something I live by and preach in 15 years? Unless it is something as simple as "Be nice." I find that most people (no not all) that go around proclaiming what they live by so that others can hear end up being hypocrites. Is that why they feel the need to share what they want you to see in them?

I am thinking about this because I went to the bank today to get a document and as they are supposed to do, the woman helping me tried to sell me some additional services. She asked me what I did for a living. I told her I was unemployed. She asked with a shocked look on her face, "Well what are you going to do?" Ok lady um I don't know you and I don't feel like I need to explain my life's goals. I wished right then I had a one liner that would give me something to say and shock her a little like, "Live life to the fullest!", "Seize the day!" You get the idea. So maybe I do need a quote or as I will call it a little ammunition.

New Year New Start

It is a new year and while I have never been one for New Year's resolutions this year will be full of firsts, I hope. Today I have officially been unemployed for a year. I have looked for jobs with no luck. While the last year has been good I look back and feel as if I wasted so much time. Was it fear, laziness, lack of direction that made me do nothing? I am not one that in the past has sat back and let the world pass me by. I have worked hard, travelled, loved, and have great close friends and family. Instead of dwelling on what was not done last year I am choosing to look forward and do. Writing is one of those things. I have gotten back in touch with people from my past thanks to social media and the thing they all have asked is, "What have you written?" I either ignore the question or reply with something flip.I used to write all of the time and claim I would one day write a novel. One thing I will do this year is at least try to write the novel I have spoken of for years. I have no idea what it will be about, if it will be good, finished, published, but it will be truly attempted. I will write here to remind myself how good it truly feels.

There will be other things I will do of course, work out more in hope a few pounds will be lost, take more photos, and refine my cooking skills, other goals that will keep me doing and moving forward

A new beginning and in a year I will look back and see.