If you've come to my Blogger blog, I'd like to redirect you to my new WordPress blog. Now would be a good time to update your readers and blog rolls and such. Some of you newer readers will probably already be over at the new site, because you have my domain saved instead of my Blogger url. Good for you. For those of you old timer, loyal fans (*snicker*).. you'll need to update. I'm still working on getting everything set up over there.. so be patient with me.
Thank you!
Embellished Truth and Polite Fiction has moved!
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Friday, August 7, 2009
The Lacey Blanket
Darla leaned back against the wall as she sat on the dusty attic floor, wiping the perspiration from her forehead with the back of her hand. She held back tears as she gazed at the murky sunlight timidly spilling through the little round window and mingling with the dust and cobwebs. It must have been at least two decades since anyone had been in Grandma's attic. She wished she could have been up here under happier circumstances, that she could have sorted through these things with Grandma instead of doing it alone. She struggled against the sting of regret as it threatened to drag her down again.
Darla remembered playing in this attic as a child. She's spent many an hour digging in the large trunks and peeking in boxes, hunting for little treasures from her Grandmothers life. Mementos and heirlooms and trinkets filled the space waiting to delight and entertain her. The attic was messy and cluttered, as it always had been, and probably not the safest place for a child to play. But it became a second home to Darla. It was her hiding place, her refuge. As she'd grown her visits changed from treasure hunts, dress-up sessions, and tea parties to quiet time and contemplative moments spent scribbling in a notebook or drawing on a sketch pad.
Tears rolled down her cheeks and dripped from her chin to her chest as the memories washed over her, dissipating in the sweat that was once again accumulating on her skin. The weight of it all was matched only by the heat of the Wisconson summer, and Darla decided it was time to take a break. She pulled herself up off the floor and brushed the dust off her pants as she headed to the narrow staircase that lead down into the turn-of-the-century Midwest farm house.
Coming here from her California home was like a time warp, a real life twilight zone. The stark contrast between the hustle and bustle of her life in the Bay Area and this quiet piece of country in Excelsior still came as a shock to her. From the fast-paced, every man for himself attitude in California to the outskirts of town with little more to offer in amenities than the abundant hospitality and friendly smiles.
Finishing her descent from the second floor to the first now, Darla entered the large kitchen in the back of the house. She paused at the kitchen sink for a moment, gazing out the window at a garden now overgrown with weeds. As much as she loved it, Grandma just couldn't keep up with tending the little plot after she'd fallen ill in late June. Darla felt a twinge of guilt at not coming sooner, but she had been laid up herself because of morning sickness.
She let out a sigh as she poured a glass of lemonade and pondered the irony of it. Sickness. Sickness had kept them apart as one life began and another drew to an end. Her heart ached over the separation and the realization that this woman, who'd been such a precious part of her life, would never meet this unborn child. Exhaustion set in and Darla sipped her lemonade as she stepped out onto the shady wrap-around porch and seated herself in Grandma's swing.
A rapid fire flashing of memories raced through her mind. She could replay nearly her whole life in snapshots of her and her grandmother in that swing together. Right up to days before Grandma's passing when they had lounged there together on a breezy afternoon. Her grandmother snoozing peacefully in the swing under her favorite blanket. A pale blue blanket, edged in lace. A lacey blanket that still sat, folded neatly, at one end of the seat.
A light breeze struggled against the oppressive heat of the day and Darla layed down on the swing, resting her head on the blanket. She let the lingering scent of her grandmother's perfume comfort and lull her to sleep as the condensation rolled down the sides of her glass mimicking the tears on her cheeks.
Darla remembered playing in this attic as a child. She's spent many an hour digging in the large trunks and peeking in boxes, hunting for little treasures from her Grandmothers life. Mementos and heirlooms and trinkets filled the space waiting to delight and entertain her. The attic was messy and cluttered, as it always had been, and probably not the safest place for a child to play. But it became a second home to Darla. It was her hiding place, her refuge. As she'd grown her visits changed from treasure hunts, dress-up sessions, and tea parties to quiet time and contemplative moments spent scribbling in a notebook or drawing on a sketch pad.
Tears rolled down her cheeks and dripped from her chin to her chest as the memories washed over her, dissipating in the sweat that was once again accumulating on her skin. The weight of it all was matched only by the heat of the Wisconson summer, and Darla decided it was time to take a break. She pulled herself up off the floor and brushed the dust off her pants as she headed to the narrow staircase that lead down into the turn-of-the-century Midwest farm house.
Coming here from her California home was like a time warp, a real life twilight zone. The stark contrast between the hustle and bustle of her life in the Bay Area and this quiet piece of country in Excelsior still came as a shock to her. From the fast-paced, every man for himself attitude in California to the outskirts of town with little more to offer in amenities than the abundant hospitality and friendly smiles.
Finishing her descent from the second floor to the first now, Darla entered the large kitchen in the back of the house. She paused at the kitchen sink for a moment, gazing out the window at a garden now overgrown with weeds. As much as she loved it, Grandma just couldn't keep up with tending the little plot after she'd fallen ill in late June. Darla felt a twinge of guilt at not coming sooner, but she had been laid up herself because of morning sickness.
She let out a sigh as she poured a glass of lemonade and pondered the irony of it. Sickness. Sickness had kept them apart as one life began and another drew to an end. Her heart ached over the separation and the realization that this woman, who'd been such a precious part of her life, would never meet this unborn child. Exhaustion set in and Darla sipped her lemonade as she stepped out onto the shady wrap-around porch and seated herself in Grandma's swing.
A rapid fire flashing of memories raced through her mind. She could replay nearly her whole life in snapshots of her and her grandmother in that swing together. Right up to days before Grandma's passing when they had lounged there together on a breezy afternoon. Her grandmother snoozing peacefully in the swing under her favorite blanket. A pale blue blanket, edged in lace. A lacey blanket that still sat, folded neatly, at one end of the seat.
A light breeze struggled against the oppressive heat of the day and Darla layed down on the swing, resting her head on the blanket. She let the lingering scent of her grandmother's perfume comfort and lull her to sleep as the condensation rolled down the sides of her glass mimicking the tears on her cheeks.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
My Darling Joella..
Every day I look at you.. and I am amazed. I am amazed and frustrated, and envious and terrified. I fear my heart may burst with all of the emotions you evoke. Everything in your world is beautiful and funny and exciting. You run at life head on, with no fear, pushing your limits and eager for your next adventure or challenge. I hope and pray that no one ever scares you enough to shatter that courage. But if that does happen, I pray that you may find your voice and speak out against the wrongs done to you.. that you may pick yourself up, put yourself back together, and bravely move forward.
When you climb on furniture or run down the driveway to the street, I want to pull you back, to hold you tight, and protect you. I want to hold you back, to keep you to myself, just as you are. I might go so far as to point out that no one else is doing such things, and wonder what put the idea in your little head? But I know it doesn't matter to you. What those around you are doing is of little consequence, you truly march to your own beat. The world is your playground and everything in it is a new experience waiting to be devoured. And I smile knowing you have a mind of your own and you will go your own way, forge a new path. I admire your ingenuity and creativity.
Many parents have plans or hopes for their children, ideas about who they'd like them to be or how they'd like them to turn out. But I'm not out to mold you or shape you into who I want you to be. I want you to be you! And I delight in learning more about you each day. Your growing vocabulary and your new found ways of communicating surprise me everyday, and my heart aches as I watch you grow up right before my eyes. I can't wait to see the young woman you become! Watching you discover yourself and who you are is a privilege I wouldn't trade for anything in the world. I realize you won't always want me along for that ride, and that's okay. You are your own person, don't ever let anyone tell you differently. But please know that I will always be here to catch you when you fall and help you get back on your feet.
As you lavish your innocent love and affection on those close to you, I am in awe of how freely you dispense it. I yearn with every ounce of my being to protect you from ever having someone break your trust, betray you, or take advantage of your love.. perverting and twisting it and turning it to pain. But I know that I can't always be there to watch over you and I just hope that, over the years, you can trust me enough to be open and understand that I love you, no matter what. I will be here with an open heart, a welcoming shoulder, and a willing ear. If you ever need to fall apart, I promise to help put you back together.
Your laughter is like music. I step out on the porch in the morning, greeted by the sound of hundreds of birds chirping and chattering, and I can't help but think of you and your darling giggle. Like a lilting melody, sweet and precious. It warms my heart and makes me dizzy and euphoric, I can't help but stop and smile and laugh right along with you. The way you spin and dance and sing songs in your own tongue may not draw an audience but it is enough to make me wish I could dance and sing with you. But grown-ups have little knowledge or understanding of your world. To be so tiny again and free from the weight of adult responsibility upon you seems unfathomable at times. It is so beautiful to watch. The magic and mystery of childhood still fresh and new. You make me want to be a child again and I do my best not to intrude on your world, preserving it and protecting it from mine. Adulthood and maturity come soon enough and I want you to enjoy your carefree innocence for as long as you desire.
And then come the rare delicious moments when our worlds collide and mingle. Catching fireflies together as the sun sinks low in the sky, sitting in a tent in the backyard just because, tea parties and baby dolls and painting our nails on the back porch. They remind me that our bond is growing, they show me we are connected, and I will treasure those moments always.
Watching you play and interact with your siblings is breathtaking. The adoration and curiosity is palpable when you are with them. The way you watch them and communicate with them reminds me that this is the very definition of family. Our bonds are still new and seemingly unbreakable, I pray that they stay that way. This kind of love is what all families should be made of.
The more I get to know you, the more I adore and admire who you are. Your bold and courageous spirit astounds me and I love the way you delight in every new thing in your world! Ever eager to learn new things and explore new ideas, I thrill at the thought of knowing who you are when you are grown. It makes me want to be more like you.
When you climb on furniture or run down the driveway to the street, I want to pull you back, to hold you tight, and protect you. I want to hold you back, to keep you to myself, just as you are. I might go so far as to point out that no one else is doing such things, and wonder what put the idea in your little head? But I know it doesn't matter to you. What those around you are doing is of little consequence, you truly march to your own beat. The world is your playground and everything in it is a new experience waiting to be devoured. And I smile knowing you have a mind of your own and you will go your own way, forge a new path. I admire your ingenuity and creativity.
Many parents have plans or hopes for their children, ideas about who they'd like them to be or how they'd like them to turn out. But I'm not out to mold you or shape you into who I want you to be. I want you to be you! And I delight in learning more about you each day. Your growing vocabulary and your new found ways of communicating surprise me everyday, and my heart aches as I watch you grow up right before my eyes. I can't wait to see the young woman you become! Watching you discover yourself and who you are is a privilege I wouldn't trade for anything in the world. I realize you won't always want me along for that ride, and that's okay. You are your own person, don't ever let anyone tell you differently. But please know that I will always be here to catch you when you fall and help you get back on your feet.
As you lavish your innocent love and affection on those close to you, I am in awe of how freely you dispense it. I yearn with every ounce of my being to protect you from ever having someone break your trust, betray you, or take advantage of your love.. perverting and twisting it and turning it to pain. But I know that I can't always be there to watch over you and I just hope that, over the years, you can trust me enough to be open and understand that I love you, no matter what. I will be here with an open heart, a welcoming shoulder, and a willing ear. If you ever need to fall apart, I promise to help put you back together.
Your laughter is like music. I step out on the porch in the morning, greeted by the sound of hundreds of birds chirping and chattering, and I can't help but think of you and your darling giggle. Like a lilting melody, sweet and precious. It warms my heart and makes me dizzy and euphoric, I can't help but stop and smile and laugh right along with you. The way you spin and dance and sing songs in your own tongue may not draw an audience but it is enough to make me wish I could dance and sing with you. But grown-ups have little knowledge or understanding of your world. To be so tiny again and free from the weight of adult responsibility upon you seems unfathomable at times. It is so beautiful to watch. The magic and mystery of childhood still fresh and new. You make me want to be a child again and I do my best not to intrude on your world, preserving it and protecting it from mine. Adulthood and maturity come soon enough and I want you to enjoy your carefree innocence for as long as you desire.
And then come the rare delicious moments when our worlds collide and mingle. Catching fireflies together as the sun sinks low in the sky, sitting in a tent in the backyard just because, tea parties and baby dolls and painting our nails on the back porch. They remind me that our bond is growing, they show me we are connected, and I will treasure those moments always.
Watching you play and interact with your siblings is breathtaking. The adoration and curiosity is palpable when you are with them. The way you watch them and communicate with them reminds me that this is the very definition of family. Our bonds are still new and seemingly unbreakable, I pray that they stay that way. This kind of love is what all families should be made of.
The more I get to know you, the more I adore and admire who you are. Your bold and courageous spirit astounds me and I love the way you delight in every new thing in your world! Ever eager to learn new things and explore new ideas, I thrill at the thought of knowing who you are when you are grown. It makes me want to be more like you.
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