sharing

recently i have had a lot to say. the filter between my brain & my mouth is more porous and i feel pretty good about it. as we say in the South, hope you do.

i need to share something about myself. the other day i sent an email to Steve Jobs. i had an idea for an application that i thought was 100% Apple-worthy, but i didn't really care to be the one to work on the development of said multi-billion dollar concept. i read online how he routinely responds to email, so i gave it a shot. and wouldn't you know it, he didn't respond.

i'm not shocked at all at Steve's silence. he's a busy man with a family, a huge company to advise, and an illness i wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy. i'm sure he's flooded with multi-billion dollar concepts hourly and if i were him, i wouldn't give two shits about my email either.

here's the important part: i was prepared for the lack of a response. you see, Steve is not the first celebrity i've attempted to contact in my life. when i was a tween - well before that phrase was coined - i wrote to Paula Abdul. i don't remember what i said in my hand-crafted letter, i probably asked her for an autograph or photo. i received no response from the American Idol. and then there was that time in 2007 after my Mom-mom passed away when i wrote to the Dalai Lama, asking him how he suggested i cope with such a tremendous loss. His Holiness didn't respond either.

but that's okay! i'm sharing this not because the lack of their collective response caused some sort of intense grief or anxiety for which i will need to return to counseling, but rather that, on each occasion, i chose to keep the fact that i wrote to them a secret.

and i don't like secrets.

sometimes you have to put yourself out there, whether it be by revealing who you really are to a bunch of strangers or finally explaining what you aren't saying to your closest friend. i've redacted my thoughts, i've censured my feelings and it brought me nowhere closer to understanding myself or others. so i'm not going to do that anymore. pardon me in advance for speaking out of turn, hurting your feelings with honesty or being the new T.M.I. girl at the office, but this is just the beginning of my real voice. i kinda like the pitch. hope you do!

proud

i've stated before in a previous post that i've never been a good chef. 

Lily has made me try harder, and it seems to be paying off. 

thanks goes to my Mother, for teaching me how to make lasagna,

& to Lily, for helping me want to perfect it.

bad dreams

back in college, i dreamt of tornadoes. for six months straight i found myself face-to-face with a tornado every night. i collected different types of them, my favorite being that one that was on fire and scorched what little Earth it left behind. there were nights of multiple tornadoes; i would look out a window to find i was surrounded by columns of swirling white wind. sometimes i would follow them down streets near my house in Hickory, through the middle of town. other times they would be behind me as i ran blindly across cornfields in Burke County. i rarely knew what direction they were moving in, yet i always felt they were coming for me. there was an immediate sense of danger followed by the longing for safety, for home. and most of the time, after a deliberate decision and change of direction, that's where i would end up, in my Grandmother's basement in Burke County.

my last tornado dream was so powerful that it has changed my attitude every day since. it has yet to leave my consciousness and even now, a month later, i am still (over)analyzing it. it still hurts.

it begin as usual, i was somewhere else doing something besides obsessing about the weather. i think i was shopping, because i remember being in a mall-like building. maybe it was an office complex, there were strangers wandering everywhere, mostly professionally dressed adults. i don't remember seeing any children. the building itself was vast, tall, and i could see the sun shining through the windows which were high enough so they acted like skylights. it was bright inside at first, then as i walked further into the building the light began to fail. i could see as i walked around that the people around me were more agitated than before, some were running. i looked up at the skylight and saw the first of many drops of rain. it was then that someone in the distance said, 'there's a tornado'.

i immediately did what i always do in my dreams, i went to lay eyes on the monster. i went outside and scanned the horizon but i couldn't see anything except a black squall line on the horizon. it was the commotion around me which lead my instincts to believe i needed to get to a basement. i blinked, and i was in one.

it took me a minute to recognize my Mom-mom's basement, only because i was expecting my Grandmother's basement in Burke County. the old, black, rotary phone that sat dusty on a home-made shelf under the stairs was the only clue i needed, and i knew i was in Chase City. the whir of the three freezers hummed in the background. i could smell the dirt, i could feel the cold familiar concrete on my bare feet. everything was in place, just like the last time i was there. and then everything started to shake.

a tornado hit her house as i hid under those stairs. the only home i've ever loved, and lost, was violently uprooted. never before in a dream has a tornado touched me, never before have i ever been directly hit by one. the entire whirlwind took mere seconds, and when i left the basement and walked up the outside steps, i couldn't and still can't believe what i saw. it was gone. everything was gone. the beloved Zoya grass planted by my Grandfather was ripped up and only the Earth below remained. there was no bamboo forest, no brick incinerator, no walnut tree, no chicken coop, no clothesline, no muscadine vine. there were pieces of the Savane green wooden siding from her house floating silently in the air around me as if it were outer space, but that was it.

i woke up and cried, and have cried several times since. the damage from that dream is deeper than it should be. it represents not the physical but the mental and emotional loss of Home. it's been years since we sold the property, it's been years since i sat in her backyard and felt safe listening to the perfect cadence of cicadas and tree frogs. i have come to understand i cannot physically return. but this particular tornado dream is destroying the ability to escape there in my mind. it is permeating the true memories i have, and is actively challenging the very same security that was forged in her backyard.

it might as well have been real. 

malindi+

i've needed a new hobby for some time now. something interesting to reactivate the furthest corners of my mind, as an outlet for all the pent-up creativity stored there. something to energize my body, something intellectual yet useful at the same time. over the past two weeks, there has been entirely too much discussion regarding the hobby and no movement made towards any one opportunity.

it hit me in the car on my way to work this morning. it was as if the signs were pointing inward instead of to the John Belk Freeway. they reminded me that i am the daughter of a Renaissance Man and a dedicated, passionate Woman. i don't have to choose one hobby! by doing so, i have to neglect all the other possibilities, and that, folks, just ain't in my genes.

so i'm going to learn how to cook... one vegetable at a time. starting with butter beans, which strike a cord so deep in me that you can probably hear it resonate as you read.

so i'm going to exercise... by swinging a golf club. my Father tried to teach me when i was younger, and all i found out was how horribly i handle frustration.

so i'm going to pay attention to my surroundings... one bird and one tree at a time. for years i've complained that we humans rarely look around to appreciate that which nurtures us.

so i'm going to write... a short story, for my daughter.

my hobby is going to be getting better, little by little, at everything that i can do, and i'm going to start by paying close attention to the details... beans, balls, spots on a hawk, leaves on the ground, and the moments i've spent calling Lily my Pea-pie. or is it Peep-eye? you'll have to read the novella to find out!

her first Autumn

"Each year, the Great Pumpkin rises out of the pumpkin patch that he thinks is the most sincere. He's gotta pick this one. He's got to. I don't see how a pumpkin patch can be more sincere than this one. You can look around and there's not a sign of hypocrisy. Nothing but sincerity as far as the eye can see." - Linus, It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.

dear Mom-mom

today makes 4 years.

since i last wrote, i've become the Mother to a beautiful little girl named Lily Rayne. she's named for your favorite flower; a picture i took of one of your gorgeous orange tiger lilies hangs framed above her crib. everyone says she looks like Michael and i tend to agree even though her eyes are steel blue, and her hair, blond with a tint of copper. kinda like yours when you dyed it. she has our bulldog cheeks. she is perfect.

you'd be proud of your son. he is working so hard to preserve and document our family's history, a passion that takes him all over the State of Virginia and introduces him to far-flung cousins and miscellaneous relatives. a true Historian, he's turned out to be. his book will be flawless, i have no doubt. and he takes with him on his travels photographs of his grand daughter, claiming to thoroughly enjoy his new role as a grand father. he has done an incredible job taking care of me, too. i look up to him in every way. his only flaw is that he's been to Lowery's umpteen times this year without me!

your family remains tight knit. i hosted Thanksgiving dinner last year, the first in our new house. we all sat around Pop-pop's walnut dinner table, elbow to elbow. there was no kiddie table for the first time in my recollection; Wil was the only kiddie at the time and nobody wanted him to eat alone! we used your blue and white china, table cloth and the family silverware, and although there was no congealed salad, i'm pretty sure you would've approved.

Wil and Lily met for the first time last month. Wil is such a wonderful little boy, so well-behaved and kind. he gave her kisses and she couldn't take her eyes off of him. i hope they have the opportunity to grow up like Kevin and i did, free from worry, loss and illness. all they need now is a little brother to tie to walnut trees and a few mason jars with which to catch fireflies!

next month, we all head to the beach and we've decided to go to Hilton Head instead of Duck. Lily has never seen the Ocean before. i plan on video taping the look on her face when she feels the sea breeze and tastes salt in the air for the very first time. she helps me relive some of my most favorite memories.

i still miss you. every time i look at my wedding ring, i picture how it looked on your finger. your phone number is the password to my email; i "call" you at least ten times a day. every morning, while Lily watches, i put on my make-up and do my hair at your vanity. there are remnants of your house all over my house and as i lay eyes on those objects every day, it's impossible not to know exactly where they - and i - come from. but thinking of you rarely makes me sad anymore, save days like this. the sadness, for the most part, has dissipated, and in its place, i just feel love. you loved me so completely, your love will never truly run out. it flows on through me to Lily.

the morning i was to give birth and meet her for the first time, i sat, humongous, at your vanity and stared at myself. i caught glimpse at your picture and started to cry, thinking how scared i was and how you weren't there to make me feel better. guilt overcame me and i scolded myself for not having her 8 years earlier, so that you could have held her, fed her, smiled with her. like a flash, i realized you never taught me how to be a Mother. i started to panic and sob. Michael walked by and rubbed my back and asked me if he could do anything, and as i explained myself to him, i paused, and through my sniffles, i heard you say, 'Everything is going to be alright'. just like you did when i told you Mom had cancer, in the same tone and with the same assurance.

and i realized that you are Lily's Great-Grandmother. 

and that you did teach me how to be a good Mother to her.

and not even Death can keep you from my side. 

with Kevin and myself

i love you, Mom-mom.

Malindi

Summer with Lily and my family