Waving Goodbye

We sat in the car.

We waited for a moment for the air conditioner to dissipate the humidity clinging to us like cotton candy blankets.

We looked at each other and at the dark house we had just left.

It had been a long, long drive from Phoenix to San Antonio, but seeing our son had made the butt numbing miles well worth the effort.

We'd had a fun day, laughing and visiting, and now we were getting ready to drive back to our hotel.  

We sat in the dark for a moment, and I told Mr. Jenny that it felt sad when there was no-one waving  goodbye.

Of course we had all hugged inside after we had made our plans for the next day...

...but...

My husband and I have  a custom of standing outside and  waving goodbye to our kids when they leave  from any family gathering.   I've been known to run down the street waving goodbye and shouting, "I love you," as their vehicles grew smaller in the distance. 

I'm sure our neighbors think we're crazy, but I don't care.  

You never know what might happen.

You never know if you will see someone you love again.

In the quiet, dark interior of the car, Mr. Jenny took my hand.   I held onto his tightly...or perhaps I should say our hands stuck together.   The humidity in Texas is pretty foreign to us desert dwellers.

We looked sadly at each other for a moment, and then he started to back out of the driveway.

Just as he did, a glorious spill of light came from the now open doorway of our son's house.   

There he was silhouetted in the glow from inside!

He ran quickly out to the middle of the yard and jumped up on a large, landscaping rock.

"Goodbye!   Goodbye!"  he yelled.  "See you tomorrow!   I love you!"

You know how when someone knocks at the door...

...and you open it up to see a bunch of camera men...

...and  a slightly familiar looking person...

...holding a check for a gazillion dollars...

...and it's from Publisher's Clearing  House...

...and you cry and look ridiculous and accept the check even though you're having a serious bad hair day...

...and then you cash the check and get all excited...

...having so many numbers in your checking account, so...

...you book a trip to go to every cool place you've ever drooled over...

...so then you have to run out and buy new wardrobe...

...including sandals that don't hide your baby toe and make you look malformed with only four toes on your feet (don't say 'huh'?   If you have freakishly short baby toes you know EXACTLY what I'm talking about here...if you don't...well...ummm... never mind!)...

...and then you have to buy new luggage to pack all the stuff in...

...all the while trying to avoid media interviews and people wanting to borrow $10,000 bucks until payday?

You know how when that happens you don't post on your blog?

...

...

Well.

It, technically, didn't happen to me...

...but it might have...

...and if it would have...

...I wouldn't have been posting on my blog.

So, see.

This does make sense.

Right?

...

...

Ummmm... ...

...anyway.

...

...

I have to go now.

Blush.

Sweet little me...

THAT'S WHAT 'FRIENDS' ARE FOR!

I cream together butter and sugar to give you a treat

Because I’m a good person…and I’m very sweet…

I add chocolate and sugar and vanilla precisely…

Because I’m thinking of you and I’m showing it nicely.

Oh taste!

They are warm!

They are melty!

And gooey!

Oh taste!

They are soft!

And a tiny bit chewy!

I’m happy for you!

Really.

You’re doing great on your diet!

But me, not so much, even though I’ve been trying…

I’ve been noticing, though, you’ve gotten too skinny!

You’re looking quite sickly and a tiny bit weak!

So I baked you these cookies…

Because I’m really sweet.

This evil little poem is linked to Saturday Centus.  This weeks five word prompt is in bold.   To read other sweet offerings, just click here.

 

Saturday Centus - Cream together butter and sugar

Welcome to week ONE HUNDRED and six of Saturday Centus.

We're home!   I'm recovering!   I'm behind!   I'm dieting!   I want cake!  or cookies!  Thus, this weeks prompt! 

The prompt this week is: "Cream together butter and sugar..."
Number of words: 100 PLUS the five words of the prompt for a maximum word count of 105
Style of writing: Any
Pictures: As many as you like

The regular restrictions apply: PG, no splitting of the prompt, play nicely and visit the other entries, any style or genre of writing you prefer. Please display my link button or just a hyper-link back to Saturday Centus. Be careful to link your SC URL to the Linky and not just link to your main blog.

E-mail me directly with ???'s or ask your question in a comment and I will do my best to get back to you as soon as possible.

Feel free to link up anytime between now and next Saturday.

Farmstead Memories

Miranda Lambert tells us so plaintively in her poignant song, The House That Built Me, that 'you can't go home again'.

I rarely listen to these lyrics, because the truth of them hurts so profoundly...

...and even thought I am happy and content with my life now, that song can take me back instantly.

The years I lived at the old farmstead were ones of extreme contrast...the peace and beauty of history, gardens and wavy old glass turned rosy by sunset juxtoposed against the ugliness of cruel words and destructive anger.

I left there both running from and searching for a path to save a destructive marriage that had filled my entire soul with self-doubt and self-hatred.  

I left there too stubborn to realize that sometimes vows have to be broken in order to survive...

...and too proud to let anyone know how totally and completely beaten down I had become.

It is not a new story.   We all have relationships with people determined to bolster their own lack of self worth by making us feel like less than we are.

Somehow, within the constraints of those destructive relationships, our lives become a made-for-TV movie.    We tolerate ugliness  because of fear or love or pride or just sheer stubborness that the focus of our wills can change things. We tell the stories of our lives through brightly clenched teeth and glittery eyes...edited to protect our egos and fictioned up to protect our hearts.  We turn around and around in dizzy circles unsure of how we arrived at that point in time...and even more uncertain how to change things.

It took me years after I moved from my beloved old farm to gather the courage to return.

When I finally felt I could manage it, I drove there alone and walked to where the lilacs marched along the property boundary.  It was mid-summer and the heart-shaped leaves shielded me from view.

'I thought if I could touch this place or feel it

This brokenness inside me might start healing

Out here it’s like I’m someone else

I thought that maybe I could find myself...'

I can't write this even now without remember the anguish I felt on that sticky July day. It makes my heart ache still...after all this time. I stood there and cried until my eyes hurt and my nose burned and my chest heaved and it was still not enough to exorcise the painful memories.  

I made myself sick with sorrow until finally I said, "Enough.  Just enough."  I walked away not really healed but fortified with the knowledge that I could and would survive my past and could and would allow myself to have joy and peace in my present life. 

The visit began the long, arduous process of healing, even though I buried a part of my heart in the gardens at the farm... a piece of me that has never grown back.

Since then I have learned confidence and self trust.  I have learned to forgive, although I have not yet mastered the art of forgetting.    

You can never, ever really go home again...but sometimes you have to start the next part of your journey by going back to where the pain began.

'If I could just come in I swear I'll leave

Won't take nothing but a memory

From the house that built me...'

"You can't go home again." I know this. And I know that home is here and home is now, but...

...There is a part of me that aches to live in that glorious beauty again...without the pain...

Or perhaps it was the pain that made that time especially beautiful.

This post is written for Alphabe-Thursday's letter "Y".   Y is for you can't go home again.

To read other Y posts, just click here. 

  

Alphabe-Thursday's Letter Y

Good morning class.

Welcome to round four of Alphabe-Thursday! Today we will be studying the youthful letter:


Please link directly to your Alphabe-Thursday URL (if you don't know how to do this let me know!) and please continue to visit the five links before and after your link and leave a comment. Minimum of 10 links visited please. You can visit more if you like, of course, and please try very hard to visit the blogs that visit you for this meme.

I also want to let you know that since I was in Texas last week I have not yet visited the X links. I will be catching up over the next week...but I have NOT forgotten you.
If you have any difficulties with your link, please make sure to include the number of the link when you e-mail me. It is really difficult for me to find you easily otherwise.

If you have any questions about Alphabe-Thursday or problems doing your link just post it in a comment or send me an e-mail. I'll do my best to help you as quickly as I can.

The McLinkey will be live from 1:00 pm MST time Wednesday afternoon in an effort to assist our lovely "friends across the pond" and continue through 10:00 am MST time Friday morning!

And remember.... link back to this post, you need to be registered as a follower of my blog, PG posts only, and you must visit at least 10 other posts...perhaps consider starting from the last posts and work backwards. The links will stay live after the final post deadline has passed so you can even wait and visit over the weekend or whenever you have more time.

Please link your yummy Y post now!

Mooooo?

I tried counting cows last night.

Longhorns, to be exact.

When in Texas, do as the Texans do...right?

Alas...

Our hotel had a few other ideas!

I was all excited to find that the room we checked into yesterday (Mr. Jenny has a few meetings this morning in Dallas, so we left San Antonio mid-afternoon) had a...

PREPARE YOURSELF...

...

A SLEEP NUMBER BED!

Yippie-i-o-kie-YAY!

Before that moment, I'd only seen those on TV.

And have you ever noticed how stinkin' rested everyone looks after they... ummm... rest in them on TV?

...

...

Yeah.

Ummm.

I set my side of the bed to 72.  It felt perfect.   I wiggled.   I snuggled.   I sighed in comfort.   And about an hour later I woke up sunk wayyyy down in the shadow of the valley of the mattress.

I tried rolling toward Mr. Jenny's side of the bed so he could rescue me.

I couldn't.

It was too uphill.

I tried poking him awake.

I couldn't.

I tried harder.

He didn't wake.

I verified he was actually breathing, and then gave him a break.

The poor guy was tired. 

And it was exhausting trying to reach the higher ground of his side of the sleep number bed.

Finally I heaved myself out of the deep ravine, over the hard edge of the side of the bed (suffering momentary flashbacks to my brief foray into waterbeds back in the 80's) and found the remote control.

5!

5!?!?

My sleep number was 5?

I scrabbled around in the dark to change my number back to 72.

There was a whining, pumping sound as the bed strained to pump air into the mattress.

Geez.

What was the weight rating on these mattresses anyway?   I wasn't even IN THE BED.

Finally after a lot of tortured wheezing, the sleep number finally increased to 47.

I climbed back in.

And rolled back down into the much shallower valley.

Ahhhhh...

I felt the mattress deflate.

Grrrr....

I tossed and turned all night and finally reached a few conclusions.

a)  I definitely need to go on a serious diet

and

b)  my sleep number is WHO THE HECK KNOWS!!!!!

grrrrrrr!!!!!

ACCCCKKKK!!!!!

Poor Mr. Jenny.  I hope he doesn't want to have a conversation while we're driving to El Paso later today!



Sigh...

BTW, what's YOUR number?