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Riding on the back of a Road King for many years was a kick in the ass, however sliding into a Ferrari carries me into unimaginable dreaminess. The luxury Italian automobile grabs the road’s pavement, the gear shift guiding way into unlawful speeds without my permission. My smile turns into laughter, tears blur my vision forcing me to pull over. My handsome passenger and owner of this fine piece of machinery kisses me on the cheek. I believe he is somewhat relieved we’ve landed.

The House Across The Street

It looms in obscurity, the  tri-level with well kempt yard and garden.  Darkness hoovers about even during daylight. Families move in and out whom we’ve never met.  During  summer bliss, a large man sits calmly  on the steps smoking a cigar, drinking liquor from an old bottle, his dog howling in discontent from the backyard.

Sometimes he looks over at me while I sit on my  porch. I wave. He nods.

Nighttime brings uncomfortable sounds from that house. Children cry… a woman screams. The man on the porch hurts her. He damages the dog more.

Don’t get involved, don’t call the police. That seems to be the policy of our neighborhood.

I can’t stop thinking about the way the dog whimpers all hours, his cries of abandonment.

My Silky Terrier, Mandy and I walk the floors two am every morning, insomnia plaguing our sleep. I go into the hall bathroom, window is slightly ajar. I hear sobbing. Poking my head through the small gap I whisper, “Hello?”

“Shhhh.” comes from a masculine voice. I hear him lifting her,carrying her back to  hell. Not caring about  consequences, tired of doing nothing I dial 911.

Turning  off the porch light, I sit silently  in my chair, watching police cars surround the house across the street.

GMA HAPPINESS

We are enjoying  Burger Saturday at Bono’s BBQ. Nick and I share our tradition this snowy December afternoon with Beau, Austin and Blakey.

Blake calls me from the hospital, Elise is in labor. Oh my gosh, I’m going to be a Grandma!

I feel many emotions, my heart pounds, palms are sweaty, pretty much as when I gave birth to Blake, July 4th,1984, 11:58pm, induced after fifteen hours to have him here for the holiday.

The night is long, the waiting room chairs uncomfortable. Elise’s mom and dad are visibly anxious, soon we run out of conversation and try to sleep.

In the wee hours of December 27, 2009, Blake and Elise welcome precious Kylee, born 5:15am.

This year my beautiful Granddaughter turns five. I wait for the day when she realizes her birthday is between Christmas and New Years. I for one will not be combining presents.

Is That A Serial Killer Behind Us?

Veterans Day, my son Beau and I head out to dinner.  He warms up his car in  bitter cold and we  brave the snowiest November Colorado has seen in ninety-three years. Traveling via Hampden Ave to Parker Road,  the car stalls in a small curvy corner on one of the busiest five lane streets in Aurora. We have run out of gas.

“How can you run out of gas?” I ask mom like.

“Well I had fifty miles left when I left Metro.” Confused he taps the fuel gage.

“Ok, so you left downtown, came home, drove to work out and back home. That’s more than fifty miles.” I smile.

The roads have become dangerously icy in the darkness, cars are taking the overpass to fast. I’m sure we will be rear-ended. Beau flicks on the hazard lights and I turn on the dome praying everyone will know we are there. Vehicles of all sizes zoom by narrowly missing us. My heart is in my stomach , the windows fog up from our breath and the freezing temperatures flow in from the floorboards.

I call my oldest son Blake, “We have an emergency. Beau ran out of gas, we are stranded.”

Without hesitation he comforts, “I am at Lowes, I will pick up a gas can and be there in fifteen.”

We wait. We joke, we talk, we wait. Time goes slow, my toes cramp in my boots. A car with one headlight pulls up behind us…  someone nice has stopped to see if we need help.

The car with a broken headlight still lingers behind us. I can’t see the driver. Why would they just be sitting there? Creepy.

A bit of panic sets in. “Ok that’s a serial killer behind us trying to see who’s in our car.”

“Mom! Are you serious?” Beau stares into the rearview, his face mirroring my edginess.

The warmth inside is all but gone, shivering we watch the roadside murderer inch up behind us.

Blake flashes his lights, here to save us.

Our focus remains locked on the bundled up, hooded killer pulling into traffic, staring us down as he passes by.

Sigh of relief, we will eat tonight.

Beau is the one in the middle.

Brat

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The sound of playing cards rhythmically slapping against bicycle spokes echoed down the poorly paved road. Dusk settled gently,summoning neighborhood streetlights to begin their flickeringbeam dance.

Moisture laden air pasted Belamie’s bangs against herforehead. Her light cotton tank top cringed against dampglistening skin, an occasional faint breeze shifting wisps of longlight brown hair across her shoulders. With a firm grip on theturned up handlebars, Belamie effortlessly steered the stolen bike.

Placing her left hand behind her she twisted around, checking onher best friend peddling methodically behind.Sari seemed as if she just stepped down from pages of aglamour magazine, even eloquently supporting a heavy whiteplaster cast, resulting from bunion surgery in late April. Thehospital casing surrounded her in certain fame, enveloping aroundher as a fairytale. Every inch of plaster from toes to kneecapsshared heartfelt wishes, funny drawings to make her laugh andphone numbers by the dozen.

Belamie’s homespun “girl-next-door” cuteness, as…

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Sand stamina… Nick and I  share half of what the boy has. He trudges without us  to the top of the highest dune, sledding back down while we watch, drinking cold bottled water.

 The ride fills him with adrenalin. Wanting more, he races past us to the edge of the dune we stand on.  

Cloud Riding to The Great Sand Dunes

I am cloud gazing, Nick is singing to Boston on the radio and the Boy is sleeping in the backseat.
We are on our way to one of the most amazing places in the world.

Best surprise of all, the Boy will be sand sledding  the Star Dune, 750 feet straight down.

Dress Up

Dress Up.

Preparing for a Death

Preparing for a Death.

Preparing for a Death

Mom went into Hospice care, Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s  claiming completeness  of her body and mind.  My beautiful mother is a shell, unable to eat because simple acts of chewing or swallowing have been crippled.   Her movements are seldom, her rapid weight loss shocking .

I pray I don’t remember her this way, diving into more pleasant thoughts of a vibrant, loving, fun, truly the most kindest human being I have ever known.

I pray God in his divine mercy takes her swiftly to be with ones who wait patiently for her arrival.

I pray my family will be strong.

I pray she is in no pain as she is unable to speak or show emotion.

I pray I was a good daughter and that she knows how much I love her.