“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan


i don't know jack about probate, estates, wills, or the difference between an executor and an administrator

i sit waiting for traffic to clear
catawba blossoms christening me,
sliding down the windshield,
skittering across the street,
a different catawba tree reminding me i can go -
from this place, from this neighborhood -
and traffic clears and i do.

i don't know jack about what sells a house
but a realtor says it ain't gray walls,
they need to be more brown,
and in this one-cupcake-shop town,
itself brown with dark tinted windows
(i can say this because no way no how will they see this,
but anyhow it's true and it tells me how much i do not fit in),
i am not surprised,
but i am painting these walls for myself
and i don't do brown.

i don't know jack about how to move forward;
i keep thinking words about something else will appear,
but keep writing the same old same in notebooks,
keep lying to myself that it is better when it's not,
keep feeding the cats, keep showing up to 3 places,
here and there and another there,
keep spending not enough time anywhere,
keep getting nothing done.

this place - right here, this shade under the emma tree -
was the place i came for shelter,
but i have lost the trail.
weeds have covered it over,
and i only find my way here by accident
and when i do, my hands are still empty.
i am holding them out, palms up,
angry that they only fill with tears.

i don't know jack about honeysuckle
or late blooming dogwoods
or red oleanders
or why the turtle wants in the house.

i move us both away from the door.



  1. None of us know jack about loss and how to lurch from day to day until we find a way to bring our hearts back and mend the holes in them.

  2. Even in the best of times (economy wise, emotionally) these matters are difficult; with a loss, all of these details to attend to add such insult to injury.

    I hope, even though there is such frustration now (oh yes, I know what trapped is) your tears will wash the weeds off the trail and you will find your way again.

  3. Keep writing. And it's OK to be sad and lost. It's another edge to this thing called life. Just keep on keeping on.

  4. that is alot .. i hope you know that i hold you close in this time of figuring out the next step...

  5. Thought I'd stop by 'the emma tree' today. Sometimes we get stuck on worries and more thoughts on worries, but we can't turn loose. We need the help of the gateway that resides in our brain to enable us to re-focus on one thing at a time.

    Worrisome thoughts pumping adrenaline and amking us nuts; what to do.

    Visually, take yourself to a quiet place. Breathe in, breathe out, keep doing that. Long slow breaths; feel your abdomen rise as you take in air.

    If you need immediate help before doing some breathing.. yell, out loud, the word, "STOP". Tell those pesky thoughts to stop. Then breathe for a few minutes, clear yourself of hurt, anger, disappointment... the adrenaline will subside and you'll face the challenges in a better state of mind.

    Not to offend you but I thought this info might help. Take care.

  6. oh chica, the air will get lighter, i promise. just right about the time you think it can't get any heavier, if my own experience is testament. but the new lightness, when it comes, is indescribably golden. hang in til then.

  7. love you
    miss you
    thinking of you
    wishing peace for you
    hugging you

  8. oh my. is it wrong to say that even when you are in this painful place, your writing still sings? (i hope not 'cause i just said it).

    i don't know, do any of us know jack about grieving? and even if we did, would that make it any easier?

    maybe right now the only thing you can do is move away from the door, to safer ground. maybe that is all you are supposed to do, right now.

    the moving froward will come when your feet are ready to move. until then, hug yourself, hug those kitties, and "stay stupid." (I only say that because you will know what I mean.)

  9. Trails
    thru weeds
    often find
    on the same
    journey home.

  10. Welcome to my blog


  11. ..i come as i always do for your words. even when you are lost, your words have huge impact.
    for some time, i was lost. maybe i still am. journeys are difficult. painful. but we learn. even when your writing is dark, we know it comes from your heart and soak it up like a sponge. many of us have been where you are. it is a journey we take alone, grief is not written down in any wise guidebook book to follow. it simply is there, enveloping us in every breath. we simply have to get through each day, in the hopes that the next will be better.
    one day, i promise, you will heal.
    one day, i promise, you will smile. even for the briefest of moments. it will start a process of smiles.
    ...i promise.
    in fondest of thoughts, Tilda

  12. who ever knows jack about how to walk through all the crap that comes with the loss of a parent. we think we know what to do, how to feel, we have no idea, we have no control over those feelings we just feel them and i guess that has to be okay, how do we not feel them???? everyday should get a little better they say crap it doesn't it can be years, i hat to say it but it can and we walk one foot stumbling after the other hoping not to fall too far today. somedays we just sleep and cry and then scream and cry i know it sucks it does but that is it. it's your time your way through your grey not brown its whatever is right for you today and tomorrow.
    hugging you

  13. you do not yet know how magnificent your light is, even in grief. your words and your gift of threading them together stun me, whether you are lost or found.

    to me, you are always found.


  14. The turtle just wants to keep you company because it also feels lost.
    Thank you for your visit, I am so glad you found me too ;-)

  15. This is what is inside my head. Has been. Comes back. I fight it. Tell it to go away. But, it lurks like a stain that won't come out.
    I sit here and cry when I read this because it too often describes what is inside me. It resonates with the very being within me.
    Can one really find comfort in knowing that they are not alone in what they are feeling?
    It is my mother's voice that keeps me pushing forward. Telling me to just put one foot in front of the other.
    So, that is what I do. And, put on a happy face.
    Most people don't know this about me.
    But, I am sending you positive thoughts and prayers to you in hopes that it will help you to put one foot in front of the other.
    Showing up is good even if don't know why.


come. sit under the emma tree & let's talk. i have cookies . . .