Searching...Endlessly

Like losing your child in the grocery store....

I have lost my dad.

Wandering past the isles hoping they'll pass by at the other end and that the beating of your heart will rest once again.

Endlessly,

Faces rush past you that do not know you,

that would not call your name.

Endlessly,

calling to them in the silences of your brain.

Endlessly,

I search for dad.

Calling to him before I fall asleep.

Hoping he will hear me.

Endlessly,

my words echo in the darkness.

In the far recesses of my heart.

Endlessly,

I long for him.

To hear him call to me.

For him to remember me.

To have him visit me just one more time.

Endlessly,

my stomach's torn with longing for his voice,

to see him laugh

and to have him smile at me.

to hold him while he tells me to not be sad.

Endlessly,

I wait for dad.

Endlessly,

I wait for him to call.

Endlessly,

Reaching to find his spirit.

Endlessly,

I mourn his passing.

Endlessly,

I sit in my bed, soaked with tears.

Endlessly......I will love you dad.

I paint.

Painfully.

Wishing dad were here to see.

What normally took 4 days to complete....

seems to last an eternity.

My paint can fills with tears.

I miss him.

My house is covered with thoughts of dad....

in droplets of my memories of him.

He is here....

and I know he's proud of me.

thanks dad.

Wispers in the Wind

The voices in my head that talk to me,

or manage to mumble under my breath ,

they know I listen and hear clearly.

How often is it that they sound as loud

as trains that run on a track whilst screeching to a halt in sudden emergency,

the creaks and the cracks within the screams of metal on metal.

Whistles blowing.

Steam puffing.

It peirces the deepest reaches of my hearing capacities,

sometimes painful,

yet instantly comforting.

Once it's there, it blocks out the noise of those who speak around you.

Invisibility is a superpower..

sometimes worn on purpose,

it overtakes you,

smothering,

enveloping,

seizing,

gripping,

choking,

and you just want it to end all things.

But then it all goes silent.

You look around

and their mouths are still moving,

and their bellies are laughing,

and everyone is hugging

or telling stories....

and all you see is movement.

while you fade into the wall.

I stand in a room

surrounded by food

and flowers

and pictures of dad.

And I know he's there

and everyone knows he's there

...but invisible.

Dad's the only one who sees me...

because he hears the whispers

and the soft mumbles beneath my breath.

He sits by me and says nothing.

Invisible.

Like me.

and we watch...

and we breathe...

and I lean on him.

Because he knows the superpower full well.

I love you daddy.

flowers faded

a tulip hangs on her wall...

painted,

by me,

representing me, ...us...

a painting representing a connection.

evisioned through a window,

she took notice.

the red curtain... now a representaion of relationship torn,

a separation

a death,

a violent death, and the tulip dies,

tilted in it's vase,

petrified forever in death...

the vision in the window is forever dim...

and masked by rain that blurs the view between those on either side.

I want my painting back.....

but I know it will never reach me...

that painting was a breakthrough for me and then an investment of relationship...so hard to give...and now lost forever....

I can only see it here when I write.......

It has inspried me to write more.......

Where's my lip gloss?

Invisible....
I sit here, invisible, reading my book in this hallway. Sharing my breathing space with that little black fly that ever seems to follow me.
Doctor's and nurses pass me by wih no hellos....
my world is quiet..yet noise rushes in one ear and out the other.
I read my gardening book, learning of root maggots and meal worms, insect's that devour and slugs that ruin everything...
The things that also appear nvisible at most times but are there nonetheless.
I am surrounded by bugs.
The fly passes me again. I swat at him.
He laughs and carries on as he has for years.
Funny....everyone seems to laugh when you're invisble.
They laugh with each other.
they laugh at a story, they laugh at a joke and then when you ask "What's so funny?"
they stop laughing....and talk over you like you were never there.
They don't even look at you.
The fly brushed my nose.....
did he not see me?
...or was he coming in for a closer look.
Still he laughs as I brush him away.
It doesn't matter that someone thinks your smart, or "Lovely" or that your hair is "fabulous".
It doesn't make you visible...not permanantly anyway.
Invisible.
I fade into the chair I'm seated in and allow the weeds from my gardening book grow up all around me.
I am comforted here....
maybe they will see me if I put on more lipgloss.
mmmm....lipgloss.
invisible but shiny....
like glass!
I'll probably need a good weeding after this.
"WHERE'S MY LIP GLOSS???"

Plain Jane Librarian

"It's nice to see you back to work with your shelving, Jane."

I pretended to smile as I struggled beneath the weight of books I held cradled in my arm. I had found all the volumes I had reluctantly left beneath my bed, after changing my room around.

"What are these, Jane? We've never seen these books before!"

I continued to shelve and reshelve, trying to remember their order for they had not been numbered except for in my memories.

"What are these titles? What do they mean?"

"Yes, Jane. Who are they?"

I wasn't sure what to tell them...knowing the criticism they often throw in my direction. These were books , chronicled by me, of friendships found and lost....and this shelf was thier graveyard. Each spine, a headstone in their memory. A collection of works, so rich, yet tales ending in tragic death.

Titles listed as, Pamela, Tracy, Jennifer, Rae-lynne, Nicole, Andrea, Michelle, , Paula, Sara, Tammy, Marc,Deborah, Noel,Stacy, The Ripplers, and Juanita. Each volume embossed with silver elephants, that when placed on the shelf next to each other it gave the illusion of tail linked to trunk.

"Why the elephants, Jane?"

"Aren't they Pretty?", I asked them?

I used to be the elphant. The obtrusive thing in the room that no one wanted to be around...the invisible elphant that everyone knew was there...but pretended wasn't. The one that took overbearing footsteps and intruded into people's lives without intentionally doing so....but everyone made it clear that I did....

Silver sometimes appears invisible, reflecting light and color, causing it to fade into it's surroundings.

That's what I did.

.....But now immortalized the former friends into the silver form of an elephant. Putting to death the endagered species of friendship. Causing them to fade in the shadows that surround them.

Life becomes quiet in an elephant graveyard.

Elephants will carry the bones of the deceased elephants for miles and miles, grieving their passing, leaving a long line of mourning, a pathway to healing, and the determination to move forward, still.

"Can we read them, Jane?"

"Not today....but, maybe someday , I will read them to you." .......I smiled , reassuringly.

"How exciting!" the librarians exclaimed, chattering about the mysteries encased within as they wandered back to their quarters.

In my heart, I have excavated too many of these cadavers....and my heart grieves...but their order, and their display remind me of something invested in, worthily.

I am saddened at the opportunity to stand in my own elephant graveyard, laying them out in a line, burying the bones of those who once lived in my life, in my heart, in my memory.

Today I leave their bones behind....annd stretch forth into the sun.

I place Juanita on the shelf. The latest of the collection. A deep breath passes from within me. Like lowering a casket into the ground as the preacher says," Amen."

And I turn and let her go.

"I am Jane....and I will begin again...."

Wasted!

I woke up in a bed of debts today.
...heavily weighing me down as I bought gas for my car and the machine declined my card due to insufficient funds.
I am smart with money.....
the blanket of bankruptcy held me there.
...trapped by my ex-husband who left it for me to care for for the last 10 years with no reprieve.
....and still I pay.
I make good money,
I'm smart with money...
But when does it go away?
Like the winter snow and the chill in the air.
When does light break forth and I start to feel free?
When do the layers peel back and release me to live the life I was meant to live...
without Marc's past haunting me every month when the "balance is due"?
Today overwhelms me with Grief as I tear away the layers of my household.
Obsessively
Compulsively
removing the things from my house I haven't used in a year.
Such waste.
Wishing I could remove all that he left behind....and my working all to pay off his waste....

...what a waste....

Plain Jane Beautiful 3

"DO you really need to wear that stuff Jane?"

The voices in the mirror stared at me while I put on my make up.

I always struggled with red hair,

and freckles,

wishing I was someone else...

like those pretty girls I alway s saw in the hallways at school or in the mall.

I think it was mandatory that all red heads have an ugly childhood.....

"How will anyone see who you really are with all that makeup on, Jane?"

I don't wear much..just enough to hide the blotches of my fair skin and some mascara to bring out my eyes .

Don't they know that blonde eyelashes just make you look invisible?

I ignored them as I powdered my face removing the shine.

"Who are they to judge me?"

At school i started to blossom in grade 12...started to discover my beauty.

I came to terms with my red hair and the mole on my face.

I started to tell people it was my other nose.....just in case I needed one.

ALl of my self worth was wrapped up in that mole on my face...

my friends tell me they don't notice it...I still do...

I'm sure the mirror just ignores it...and so do I....

not bothering to ask it the infamous question of...

"....Who's the fairest of them all?"

"Jane you have fair skin."

"Why do you always have to compete, Jane?"

It wasn't competition...it was just to be visible...

to be someone and stay someone....

I continued to not comment. to see past them and apply some lipgloss to finish the look.

I'm not there anymore.

School has long passed me by...but the voices in the mirror still linger ...

trying to tell me who I am.

They're wrong.

I still hear them. but I have to choose when to listen...and to whom...

I look at them in the mirror and then past them to myself and smile.

Their eye's stunned and silent.

They see the difference.

and they wish they could be more like me somewhere deep down.

Polished,

Pretty,

Plain Jane,

...... Beautiful

With eyes and fair skin,

rosey cheeks and kissy lips.

"HAH!"

I laughed at them.....

And left.

A Warrant Out for Coffee

Yesterday, I sat , babysitting a guy coming down off meth. Watching him bang his head on the walls, and running in to stop him from doing it every so often. He talks to me in an Irish accent, telling me his name is Liam.....But it's not. Just previously he spoke to my co-worker, in fluent canadian accent, explaining his life's trials and what led him to meth.
As much as I want to invest in the lives of others, I did not want to invest in this. Too many personalities, and pretences. I don't have the mental capacities to keep up.
I just wanted my hot coffee.

Later a soccer player comes in,
Head injury,
17 yrs old,
And it took 8 of us to hold her still while they injected her with something to anesthetize her long enough to do a scan of her head.
God, was she strong.
God, do I hurt.
God, why did I even buy a coffee this morning when it exists in another part of the hospital?
All this travelling from different departments.....My coffee has become foreign...possibly cold.

Police asked us to keep an eye on a young offender waiting to see the Psychiatrist.
Apparently he had 6 warrants for his arrest...and now we have to keep an eye on him so he doesn't run away....
All I asked myself was....am I ever going to be able to sit and just enjoy the rest of my coffee and read a bit from my book.
Everyone seemed to demand attention from me yesterday.
Even the most delightful taste of my coffee set between three rooms with volitile patients....i was becoming more volitile as it sat there getting cold...

Eventually while I was tending to something else...Housekeeping came by and found a cold coffee sitting there alone and dumped it down the drain thinking it had been abandoned....

My pockets were empty. I could not buy another....
....and it had English Toffee syrup in it.....I paid extra!

I came home exhausted.
Sat in the car for 4 minutes after shutting the engine down just to breathe. I looked over at my backpack and dreaded the burden of lifting it to my shoulder , should I ever decide to get out and go into the house.

But Surprise for me that day, The love of my life had come over, with pizza ordered and tulips for me.
The tulips I had always prayed for, the tulips I envisioned I would carry if someday I would marry.
White ones, with a bit of yellow ones and a hint of orange. I opened the paper and saw them and hugged them with my face deep inside the wrapper and smelled them....Breathing in.

My day at the hospital dissapeared then, as I sat to eat with the two I hold so close to me right now. My tulips set at the table where we eat (....minus a few because Tim wanted my daughter to have some for her room.)
and when it was all over, he still got up and kissed me for being such a good cook.

This morning...my tulips are awakening, more of them crawling out of the greenery to greet me.
Beautiful....
fabulous....
romantic....

...especially with my coffee....

The Tint of Red.

My hands were covered in blood today.

Before last night's shift, All I could think about was the pink sky on the horizon on Valentine's day. It was a wonderful sight. Bird's soaring...floating, really, on the chinook wind that carried them in stillness over the water of the resevior near my house. It was beautiful, and the birds called out, reminding me of my other home on the shores of the UK's Southwest .

But today was red.

Sometimes you forget to put on gloves. or you've run out of them...and the urgency for your hand to help is needed right now.

In a whirlwind of drunken confusion, I stood next to a man who was detoxing from a 2 week binge of drinking. He had no idea where he was...let alone who he was....and his blood was all over the place....and on my hands.

My pink sky turned red today in a sea of casualties and dying people that flooded the room of Emergency.

Yes, I work in Emergency. I have for the last 10 years.

Blood.

it's scary sometimes....

especially when you don't know what's in it...

or what it's gotten into.....

Later I tried to help police undress a man who was soothed by my voice but aggitated by theirs. I only walked 5 feet away and minutes later a tazer was held to his chest.

Police Brutality,

Excessive force,

"Constable Chauchy"...is what everyone referred to him as....actually, it was me that called him that.

Possibly a case of "small man syndrome" wearing a red stripe down the side of his pants.

Now I understand the stuff on the news.

Give these boys new toys and a small dick and they become worse for wear when fighting crime on our streets.

Show offs.

I hate cops

Young cops

New cops.

Adrenaline junkies,

all hopped up on power,

They see blood on their hands and it's of their own doing, their own proddings, their own tauntings...and then when presumed guilty they cover each other and wash their hands free of the speculation.

The good old boys club.

Dirty cops.

A force to be reckoned with.

Oh Lord, Give me strength!!

No matter how much they wash thier hands thiy're still dirty cops.

I wanted to be one some time ago...

Thank God , I was prodded in another direction.

Instead we clean up their mess and tuck their clients all into bed, send them home sober and safe, with someone's business card in their hand for the next bad day they come across.

And at the end of the day we wash our hands.... and are free to carry on.

Guilt Free.

Sound.

Clear headed.

Secure.....with our own abilities to handle the situation....

No stripes,

No tazers,

.....just gloves....if we have time,

Confidence in teamwork,

And hearts that give and voices that soothe.

and as the blood washes away

....it turns pink .....

as it fades down the drain.

I am reminded of my Valentine's Day pink sky....

and the birds....

on the southwest shores of the UK.

Plain Jane beautiful 2

"Jane, It's after 3 am...What are you doing?"
"I'm being inspired."

Charcoal crumbs disappeared from my fingers as a drew a luminous figure on my wall.
Father always saw my talent but did not quite understand where it came from and why at such stupendous hours of the mornings.

"Jane you have school in the morning!"
"I know, Father. I am almost finished."

He closed my door after standing there in his old man underwear, awakened by the light from my room that spilled out into the hallway. I often imagined that it had snuck in under his door and tickled his nose to wake him. It always woke him.
I looked up at my figure, a faceless man in a toppled hat, that hid behind my door when it was open, but watched over me as I slept. He kept me company when I was was left to my own devices in my room.
I looked at my hands.....black with soot.
I wiped them on my shirt and went to bed. My mother would be mad at my laundry somewhere down the road. She always found paint or something there.

She came into my room and saw the figure behind the door
"Oh My Gad!"
My mother didn't like him.
"Where's his face , Jane?"
I drew it faintly because in essence he knew how I felt....how people looked at me...how I sometimes wanted to look at myself.
" It's there mother, You just have to picture it for yourself."
"Oh"....she stared and then commented that i had better clean my room before my father got home from work.
...Then she left.

"
Jane....She doesn't like me..." He said.
"She doesn't have to..... You belong to me anyway.....I like you. Is that not enough?"

"Why do I have to stay behind the door, Jane?"

I closed the door and gave him full access to my room.
I opened the curtains too.

"This is your place when I"m at school."
"You can have it."

"Mrs. Johnson won't let me draw you at school. She says you look evil..."
"SO I'm keeping you here and giving you more space than a piece of paper."

He stood over 6 feet tall, his hat slumped because of my ceiling, his back slouched to fit.
He smiled at me.

In my heart he had been given something, given life, a heart, character and he was full of questions...
He wasn't a voice in my head...he was someone that I created. fictional, yet real .
And I loved him....so he could love me back.....
because so many couldn't....

Much like me...created.... to be loved....Plain Jane, yet beautiful.
with a heart and character.
with so many questions.....
Despite the librarians in the mirror or the voices at school.
My mother painted over him years ago....but I still see him behind the door.
It's still his room while I'm gone.

"I've missed you, Jane."
" You look beautiful!"

I smiled at him.
His hat slumped....his smile wide.
"I am beautiful!"

Wrecked at Sea

I remember sitting on the sofa next to my girlfriend watching these movies that consisted of 15 minutes of sheer awe. Teaching us to look at life from a different angle. from the inside and with our eyes allowing our soul to experience wreckage.

So many of us function in this world as the sea does,
with Ebbs and flows of the waves of the working class,
the socialite mothers with their strollers and latte's,
jr high girls dressed the same , tressed the same, talking & walking the same.

Yet to experience actual wreckage on this sea of life as the world knows it is so messed up.
We dispose of our spouses and friends like we do the news paper, and driving to work has to be like microwaving your "minutes only " pasta dinner.
People want to kill themselves beacuase a doctor gives them a bad report and they don't want their family to suffer with them....be burdened.
Children murder their parents because they had a fight.
People freeze to death on the streets because it's -56 degrees out.
These things seems to disappear into the calendar , maybe strike a page in the newspaper. and then we toss it away.....
Like the note in the bottle tossed at sea...hoping someone will rescue them.....

Wrecked at sea.

I've been on that boat.

I've been wrecked.

I stood in the food bank lineup for an entire year...
I had sherriffs repossess everything I had .
My ex went bankrupt and left me with over $10,000 in monetary debts leaving me still paying it 10 years down the road.
My best friends since kindergarten ditched me when I told them I was pregnant....
I was yesterday's news
and my baby became a burden...
My pregnancy was lonely,
Until my daughter arrived.
her birthday a beautiful one and no-one to share it with.
Her father walked out when she was only 2.

Somedays she was the wind in my sails.
she kept me going.
Only two....
telling me how to smile like her
and brushing my face with her tiny hand telling me that she would take care of me.
and so we sailed....
we met many passers by,
people who smiled but didn't say anything...
people who prayed and well wished us.....but never phoned.
we sailed....
and sometimes I lost her. not knowing what babysitter I had left her with...leaving me weeping on my doorstep asking God to remind me of who I gave her to for the night.

for years we sailed...many faces, and still no one stopped to stay...
to linger....
to visit
or be our friends

Wrecked at sea...

No one payed attention.....
No one stopped to ask intently....
they asked how I was but did not care to hear my answers....

they say they miss you or pray for you
they think of you...but no one ever phones....
no one ever looks into your cupboards to see that you only have a block of cheese, some powdered milk in a jug, a large box of rice crispies and not enough peanut butter to last the week.

They didn't know that all I ate all day was water and the crusts she would not eat.

wrecked at sea.....

floating....

waiting...

One day I docked into the north end of this city to talk and listen to a voice I had only heard through her husband's cell phone. and quickly... she saw the wreckage...and I saw hers...and we milled through it...still remembering each other and the children in the midst....
which everyone else forgot....
we built each other up... and then she set sail for manitoba....
But I hear her every day...and see her in the distance. never docking...just sailing...and she's coming back to me...her family too....

"Row, row Row your boat,
Gently down the stream....."

She has the man power. with faith as her rudder and 5 men in her life to do her bidding...because she is highly praised by them....to help her row in faith.

for here their wreckage has supplies and all of their needs met......and a place to dock and refuel.... and a friend....
consistent
waiting.....

Soon they will re-settle...and they will rejoice....and I with them...with her...and our children....

and will sing,....

"Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Merrily,
Life is but a dream."

Wrecked at sea....
row your boat...
faith will guide you if you let it.
Look for the shore...
It is there.
......and there will be people waving you in....

Check the Appropriate Box

Today is a day of Priorities.

A day of order.

I bought a daytimer, through Franklin Covey...the people who help you develop those infamous, "7 Habits of highly effective people"

Walking around with a Franklin Covey daytimer...certainly makes you feel Highly effective...and I know that I am.

So I filled the boxes with my vast array of addresses and lists of Phone numbers, and busines cards.

Finally organized....

But....I'll more than likely have to call Juanita and get her address again...because she knows what it's like to lose those little crumbs of paper with vital information on them.



Today I readied to paint someone's basement. trim and doors, walls......a quick bit of pocket money for me...and helped someone check the appropirate box in their day planner as their renos come to a close with my work.

Today my dear friend checked the appropriate box, after her father picked it up from the greyhound depot, filled with gifts and creations for her children and a game for their family and a ton of supplies for her down time in this middle of this cold winter blast.

Today I will check the appropriate box......(the dumpster outside...and get rid of some of the crap in my house that stands in the way of renos.....if not. I will book a ride to the landfill sometime next week....

Tonight's box consists of pizza...an easy supper...and then opening my boxes of card making supplies and relaxing with my daughter surrounded by her creativity and her eyes wide open as she sees the finished product.



In your to-do list today what boxes will you check off?

Which will wait for tomorrow or another day?

DO you know who marked you off on their list today?

Did you know that you hold an important place in the to do list of your best friend, your wife or husband, ...how about the "Big Guy " Upstairs?



His list always has room for you...and he checks the appropriate box next to your name everyday...sometimes you're too busy to notice....but he's there, while you pick out the appropriate outfit for the day, or set the appropriate dinner for your family, or watch the appropriate shows on TV. He's checked the appropriate box...



Because you are his priority, you need him and he needs you.

Slow down look at your lists...and pencil a check mark into the space where it says, "Slow down... Pray....ask for what you need.......have a coffee...do something for you....."



You are worth it.

Slow down

For you.... For Him...the "Big Guy"...

And then everyone else will know too....

and all will fall into place........

your life will be highly effective......

what's your motivation?

Motivation

Today I feel cooped up.

My application for home renos came in yesterday.

There's my motivation for today.

today I will run around, pricing things out for a kitchen. A kitchen with counterspace and more cupboards. ooohh and a dishwasher.

Everytime I think of dishwashers I envision the heavens opening and shafts of light breaking through, angel choruses singing the praises of a much desired dishwasher.

For three years I have functioned in a 10 x 10 kitchen with pink walls of Pepto bismol and 70's style tile....and no dishwasher...so sad.

Today I dream of it's face lift, as I price out cupboards and sliding pantries, recycle bin storgae and who knows what else. I figure, I kea is a good start....I can sit in their ready made kitchens and pretend it's me that lives there and someday I will live in my ready made kitchen and then I will sell it to someone who needs it more than me.

No money will leave my hands today thanks to a starbucks gift card...I will go with coffe and tape measure in hand, dimensions of my kitchen and motivation to see it come to pass.

At home other passions await. but they will wait for me. Once my quotes are done and my application is in...I will have 3 weeks to dedicate to a painting that sits on my easel eager to be set up in someone's living room.

My motivation.... the farm...my future....

My future husband...

...who wants me out there so bad.

Me first.

Thats what he told me.

He'll help me get my house done first and then I can help with his.

Oh my head is filled with visions of door knobs, and closet organizers, wood floors and pretty baseboards that frame the finished work.

I have two paint jobs coming. cash in hand.. next couple of weeks I see it

get up....move, do whatever it takes to get you motivated.

When it speaks to you

acknowledge it.

move into it.

Ride it, let it push you.

Anticipate where it will bring you.

You will reach the summit.

You will soar to new heights.

You will look back and say..."I remember being there"...and you'll look forward and say..."But now I'm here!."

That is where you will want to be and it will then motivate you to go higher.

to push through.

to excell.

And you will look deep within yourself....

...and smile.

Contented.