Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘Personal’ Category

Installment 34: Meet Me by the Gate

Posted in anxiety, art, books, entertainment, family, Fiction, life, love, Personal, short story, sister, Writing, tagged on April 9, 2016| 5 Comments »


June 29

I tied a ribbon around Grandma’s patterns. They’re mostly for dresses from the forties and fifties. A few patterns for walking shorts, pedal pushers Grandma called them. I guess that’s what they use to call biking shorts.

Each pattern was contained in a yellowing envelope with a line drawing of the outfit inside – smart skirt suits, summer dresses, ruffled blouses, even a poodle skirt, most with matching hats and gloves. All painted with pastel colors.

When I took them, I meant to frame the best of them and display them in my room. But like most of my projects, they were overcome by life’s events, mostly work, stress and exhaustion.

Living wasn’t meant to be so tiring. Had I only started feeling tired recently or was I always this way? It’s hard to remember now.

I slipped a note written on pretty pink paper, under the ribbon.

Dear Allie,

Now these are yours as they always should have been. Please take better care of them than I did. Don’t just shove them in a box in a closet somewhere; find a place where you can see them every day. Grandma would have loved that, just as she loved you, her favorite grandchild, her little Allie.

Love Ya,

Jo

Read Full Post »

Installment 32: Meet Me by the Gate

Posted in art, books, entertainment, family, Fiction, health, life, love, Personal, sister, Writing, tagged on April 6, 2016| 7 Comments »


June 27

Item # 4 – Silk ivy in the brass pot

I keep it in the kitchen. Logan, this is yours. You were in second grade and having so much trouble learning to read. Your teacher gave each student a ticket for reading five pages. At the end of the year, she had an auction. You had the least number of tickets. At the beginning of the auction, you spotted this plant and wanted to get it for me.

You saved all your tickets, scared someone would out bid you. After you brought me the plant, I took you out for an ice cream sundae, just the two of us. I know you don’t remember, but this plant has been my favorite plant living, dried or silk ever since.

***

 I’ve decided to write Logan a letter. I remember how Allie was so desperate to read Dad’s will. Everyone kept telling her there was nothing in it, just standard legal jargon. As a matter of fact, it read like a form letter.

She had been hoping her Daddy had left her a message. Some personal indication of how he felt about her.

I think she’s still searching for that acceptance, even today.

I want to be sure I leave that for Logan and Allie, too. I don’t want Logan to have to wonder. I want him to know for certain how I feel about him. There are so many things I wanted Logan to know – that I’m proud of him and I love him.

I want to write him a letter for when that first girl breaks his heart, when he graduates from college, gets married, and has his first baby.

I want him to know that pain does not last forever, but love does. Cherish the little things. Money does not matter. Do what you love, because life is too short to work for money. In the end; memories are what you long for. Stay close to your family, because that’s all you’ve got and when everyone and everything seems to abandon you, you’ll know they’ll still be there for you. And if I can’t be there for you, you can depend on your Aunt. These are things I wish I had learned earlier.

Read Full Post »

Installment 31: Meet Me by the Gate

Posted in art, books, entertainment, family, Fiction, health, life, love, Personal, short story, sister, Writing, tagged on April 5, 2016| 6 Comments »


June 26

I don’t know if I can do this for six more weeks. I don’t know if I want do this for six more days. Please God, please make this stop. I don’t care how. Just please stop it.

I put together a just in case box. I gathered my will, insurance, burial wishes, and pictures of me and Logan in a box under my bed. I want everything to be together so that no one has to worry and make those decisions later.

I remember how hard it was after Dad. No one knew where anything was or what he wanted. I remember having to answer questions and make decisions a thirteen year old shouldn’t have to make.

I wanted to leave instructions and messages about the important things. I wanted to be sure nothing was lost or missed. I need to take an inventory of everything in the house and explain each item’s significance and who should keep it after me.

There was a little picture of Allie with Mom and Grandma. Mom was wearing a blue and white cotton dress and Grandma a green striped dress. Grandma was wearing red lipstick. I think everyone wore red lipstick then, even Grandmas.

Allie was about twelve months old, a big, chubby baby with red hair. Mom’s hair was still dark. It wasn’t long after that picture was taken that Mom started dying her hair. She loved Allie’s hair so much she took Allie to a salon and had her hair dyed to match.

The top of my head is barely visible at the bottom of the picture, cut off by the camera. Even then the world revolved around Allie.

I put a yellow sticky note on the back of the picture.

Allie,

I know you always hated your hair growing up, but Mom loved it so much, she had hers dyed to match yours. Love Jo

I deposited the picture in an envelope with her name on it and placed it in the box.

Next I picked up a spiral notebook, brown with pink flower. I didn’t want a yellow tablet or a plain spiral notebook, nothing generic. I wanted everything in this box to be an expression of my personality, so that, if later didn’t come, anyone looking in this box would have a sense of who I was.

I began my inventory in my spiral notebook. This was an inventory of my worthless things and what they mean to me. So that maybe when I’m gone, someone will understand and cherish them too. I think everyone should have a just in case box.

 ***

Item #1 – Fondue pot

I love chocolate and cheese, separately, not together. What’s better than something you can use for both? Allie, this is yours. You are the only one I know who loves cheese almost as much as me and maybe loves chocolate a little more.

Read Full Post »

Installment 30: Meet Me by the Gate

Posted in art, books, entertainment, family, Fiction, health, life, love, Personal, sister, Writing, tagged on April 4, 2016| 10 Comments »


June 25

Charlie received a letter from a colleague he had traveled with. When the group bringing medications returned to a village, they found most of the twenty some odd inhabitants dead or dying. They did what they could to try to ease the suffering and save those that weren’t too far gone. However, they arrived too late. They were only able to save two of the twenty. Eighteen were lost. It really wasn’t a village as much as a cemetery now.

I feel guilty for hijacking Charlie from these people. He’s so close to finding a solution. I watched as he finally resigned himself to moving their pictures from the right side of his board to the left. He took each picture, stared intently at the smiling face and then tacked it on the left side.

He left his office, quietly shutting the door and began preparing me tea and crackers. He shut the door on his dream, his promises and his friends. I called Allie; I couldn’t let him do it. I couldn’t let him do what I had done. I have to find a way for him to continue his work. I am not going to be the reason he had to quit.

Allie took Charlie aside. She had a list all of my treatment and doctors’ appointments. She had names by each appointment date and phone numbers. Some I knew and some I didn’t. She had organized volunteers, so that Charlie didn’t have to choose between me and his work. Of course Allie’s name appeared almost daily.

She told Charlie she didn’t want him getting sick trying to handle it all. That he needed a break too. He was already looking exhausted and stressed. She knew he wouldn’t ask, so she decided to help him out.

I insisted he go back to work on his project. People were depending on him. At first he seemed reluctant and then relieved.

When did Allie become someone who I could trust with sensitive issues? When did she start thinking beyond herself? Sometimes, given a challenge people rise to the occasion and even go beyond your expectations. Beyond what you or even they thought they were capable of. I’m glad Allie turned out to be one of those people.

Read Full Post »

Installment 29: Meet Me by the Gate

Posted in art, books, entertainment, family, Fiction, health, life, love, Personal, short story, sister, Writing, tagged on March 31, 2016| 4 Comments »


June 24

I’ve been sick for the last few days. I’m too tired to make one more trip to the restroom. Charlie brought me a bowl and I just lie on the sofa, while he and Allie take turns dumping it. I know they’re both worried. I can hear them talking in the hall.

“I don’t know how long she can do this,” I heard Allie say.

And I agreed with her. I don’t know how long I can or want to do this.

You think you’ll do anything, give anything to live, but when it comes down to it, sometimes you wonder if it wouldn’t be easier just to let go. I’m worried I’ll feel that way before this is all done and over. Maybe that’s how Mom felt, she just couldn’t go on.

I heard Livia join in the conversation in the hall.

Livia brought Logan in to see me before they left. She wanted to show off his new outfit. I didn’t know which to look at first, the blue argyle sweater vest and plaid pants or the fact that he and Livia were wearing matching outfits.

“Shouldn’t I stay here and help with Mom,” he silently begged Allie for help.

“How sweet. But your Aunt Allie and Charlie have everything under control. Besides your mother wants you to go out and have a good time,” Livia said, getting her keys out.

“Great,” Logan replied though he didn’t sound the least bit convinced.

Allie shoved a bowl of cream of mushroom soup at me. Usually, it was my favorite, but today it was revolting.

“It’s homemade,” she said, coaxing. “Mrs. Wood at the market made it.”

I would have been shocked if Allie had cooked anything “homemade”. Her children weren’t even sure what a grocery store was for. The waitresses have her number on speed dial. She once tried cooking for a few weeks and got calls from restaurants checking to see if everything was ok.

I lied, telling her I’d try some later. I’d be lucky to keep the crackers down.

Read Full Post »

Installment 28: Meet Me by the Gate

Posted in art, books, entertainment, family, Fiction, health, life, love, Personal, short story, sister, Writing, tagged on March 30, 2016| 7 Comments »


June 23

I moved to the sofa today, perhaps a change of scenery would help me feel better. I was hoping just getting out of bed would be enough to perk my spirits and reduce my feelings of illness. Perhaps if I didn’t stay in bed, I’d feel less like an invalid. I was also hoping if I was closer to Charlie’s office, he wouldn’t feel like he had to spend every minute watching over me. If he was within calling distance, maybe he’d work for a while instead of hovering.

“Is there anything I can get for you, Dear?” Livia asked, as Logan came into the room swinging his tennis racket dangerously close to a lamp.

He was dressed in khaki shorts and a red t-shirt.

“I’m ready for my tennis lesson,” he replied, his backhand coming within inches of a long mirror.

“Logan dear, change into your tennis whites. Club rules,” Livia informed us.

Tennis whites? Both Logan and I were perplexed.

“White shorts and shirt,” Charlie explained.

“I don’t have tennis whites,” Logan said.

Livia picked up her phone, called the club and cancelled Logan’s tennis lessons. But if he thought he was going to get a Livia free day, he had another thing coming to him.

“I can take a hint. I understand the need to shop better than anyone,” Livia said, grabbing her purse and Logan. “There are some days when all you want to do is bury yourself in a little retail therapy.”

With that, she swept Logan from the room for a day of shopping.

***

Allie came as dressed for work as Allie ever was. She was in slacks instead of a skirt. With Allie around, I was able to convince Charlie to work for a while. He’d been neglecting his project and I am tired of his constant reminders to eat and drink. I know he means well, but it gets annoying. I know I need to eat and drink and if I could I would, but I can’t without getting sick.

Read Full Post »

Installment 27: Meet Me by the Gate

Posted in art, books, entertainment, family, Fiction, health, life, love, Personal, sister, Writing, tagged on March 29, 2016| 9 Comments »


June 22

I wanted to paint today, maybe even paint my vegetable garden. I call it my garden, but it turns out I’m in it less than everyone else.  I can see it from my window lying in bed. Everyday Charlie or Logan drag the sprinkler around to water rows of lettuce and cabbages, tomato plants in wire cages, herbs of every sort, and corn stalks waving in the breeze.

Today must have been Allie’s turn. While Charlie was making tea, Allie was dragging the garden hose around. Dressed in a brown skirt, orange sweater set, and heeled sandals, she tromped around in the dirt and mud. Usually the sight of her in a skirt and mud would have made me laugh. Today I’m just thankful to have her.

Once she completed her chore, she came bearing tea. I guess Charlie thought if Allie brought it, I might drink more. It doesn’t matter who brings it, the result is the same. I’m already tired of the concerned looks. But, I’m determined to make a good effort. However my mind had other thoughts. Every time I tried to reach for the cup, I missed as if I couldn’t bring myself to take it. After a few failed attempts, Allie pushed the cup into my hand, holding it there for a few minutes while I secured my grasp.

She sat next to me, shoving another pillow behind me to help prop me up. She clutched my hand so tightly I could feel her desperation.

“Remember how I’d wait for you by the school yard gate?” I asked.

“And we’d walk home together. Sure.”

“Those girls, who pushed you around, pulled your hair, and called you names, like Red Head Fred.”

“Not when my big Sis was around,” she said.

I reminded her of the time I lost her or at least thought I had lost her. I’ve never been so scared. I ran around looking for Allie for what seemed like hours. I found her playing hopscotch with those girls like they were best friends. I was so angry. She scared me to death. I don’t know why I keep thinking about it.

I still remember the look on Allie’s face when I was screaming. I don’t know why I did that.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you. It was stupid,” I told Allie.

“I’m sorry I scared you.”

“I’m sorry I’m scaring you now,” I whispered.

Allie tightened her grasp on my hand.

“You’re cutting of my circulation, Carrot Top,” I said, wincing.

She laughed. It was good to hear her laugh again. I haven’t heard her laugh since that day at the sushi restaurant.

Read Full Post »

Installment 26: Meet Me by the Gate

Posted in art, books, entertainment, family, Fiction, health, life, love, Personal, sister, Writing, tagged on March 28, 2016| 8 Comments »


June 21

I could hardly crawl out of bed. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but I refused to let myself believe it was going to be this hard. It wasn’t just hard for me, but Charlie too. He spent the first few days of my treatment trying to coax me to drink and eat, then watching when everything came right back up. I can’t remember having spent so much time in bed.

I feel bad for Charlie. I thought he’d be able to continue working on his project in spite of my illness, but now he seems to spend most of his time taking care of me. At least he has a break when Allie stops by.

“Do you remember when you first found this house?” she asked, lying next to me as if we were just taking a little nap instead of lying here because I can barely hold my head up.

“Do you remember the look on Gordon’s face when we brought him here?” I asked.

“He thought you’d lost your mind buying some house that would be better off condemned.”

The old house had fallen on hard times. The walls were covered with peeling layers of browning wallpaper. The settling foundation had opened cracks that had torn through the wallpaper, leaving holes large enough to put your fingers through. A beam had cracked breaking through the living room ceiling. The backyard was filled with waist high weeds.

But under all that was a stone farm house built in the eighteen nineties. It was a one story structure that had been added on to over the years. Deep cool porches lined both front and back offering shade from the hot Texas summers. The backyard was almost forested by trees and beyond the weeds was a small creek. I had fallen in love with the tall ceilings; the dark wood floor with planks wider than my hand; and the long windows set into the thick stone walls.

“Remember how you spent almost every day here helping me tear this place apart?” I reminded her.

“And then putting it back together.”

“I thought we’d never finish.”

“I wish we hadn’t. How did we wonder so far apart?” Allie asked, taking my hand.

“We aren’t far apart. We see each other every week.”

I knew what she meant, but wanted to feign innocence.

“That’s not what I mean. How could we see each other every week and not see each other?” Allie asked the question I had been asking myself.

“Just life I guess.”

People continue marching along as if they have all the time in the world, never letting themselves think that their time here is limited. No one can guess how long they have, but we all live as if that day will never come. We all know we should live each day as if there will be no tomorrow, but we don’t. We think that applies to everyone else except us.

There are so many days I regret now. Days wasted in mindlessness. How I wish I had made better use of those days.

Read Full Post »

Installment 25: Meet Me by the Gate

Posted in art, books, entertainment, family, Fiction, health, life, love, Personal, short story, sister, Uncategorized, Writing, tagged on March 25, 2016| 9 Comments »


June 20

The treatment has kicked in with a vengeance. I spent most of the last few days sicker than I can ever remember being. If this is how sick you get with a low dose, I’d hate to see how bad a heavy dose would be. The medication that was touted as taking care of this nausea doesn’t work for me. Despite the illness and exhaustion, I’ve kept on painting. Not for hours at a time like before, but for minutes, whatever I can manage. Charlie moved my easel so I can see it from bed. I study my painting for a while and then work for a few minutes. I’m so exhausted, I can’t see straight sometimes, literally. My vision blurs and I know I’ve pushed myself too far; it’s time for a nap. A little sleep and all is right again.

Allie came by, as is pretty much her usual now. I’d been thinking about Mom lately.

“Remember the day Mom died?” I asked her. “You ran off and no one noticed until dark.”

“Everyone was looking for me, but you’re the one who found me.

“Sitting by the gate to the schoolyard.”

“Do you know why I went there?” she asked.

“Not really.”

“I knew you’d find me and bring me home. I knew everything would be fine if we just walked home together. Mom would be in the kitchen again, fixing dinner. Nothing would have happened. You could fix anything.”

“But I couldn’t fix it.”

“I know but you brought me back,” Allie said.

“I wish I could have done more.”

“Without you, I wouldn’t be here now.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” I said, squeezing Allie’s hand.

“Me too.”

“Hey, meet me by the gate.”

Allie turned to look me in the eyes, like she was searching for a truth.

“Always,” she replied.

I’ll always be waiting by the gate. No matter what, we’ll always have each other.

Read Full Post »

Installment 24: Meet Me by the Gate

Posted in art, books, entertainment, family, Fiction, health, life, love, Personal, short story, sister, Writing, tagged on March 24, 2016| 5 Comments »


June 17

Tomorrow is the big day, first day of treatment. I didn’t want to get out of bed this morning. I wanted to stay there, hiding, hoping tomorrow wouldn’t come. Then I realized this is my last day of freedom at least for a while. I don’t know how radiation and chemo will affect me. Most people have some form of illness with it. I heard of a few friends of friends who weren’t sick at all and even start feeling better. I’m hoping I’m for the later, but fear the former.

I thought I’d paint the day away. I had pictures taped to the wall of landscapes that looked like they’d come from a French fairy tale. The more I worked, adding more color, the darker the painting became. It began to look like a storm was waiting just on the horizon to take over my painting and my life.

I heard Livia’s voice calling to Logan, she had decided to show off her “grandson” to Louise today.

“It was not funny and your etiquette classes start next week,” Livia called after Logan.

She didn’t sound happy.

“Do you know what your son did?” she asked, pacing in front of my easel.

“No, but I’m sure it was an accident,” I tried soothing.

“Accident? Burping the National Anthem isn’t an accident,” she fumed.

It seems Louise asked him if he played an instrument and right there at the table in the middle of the club, he burped the National Anthem. I wish I could have seen their faces. I told Livia I’d have a talk with him.

But she insisted I didn’t.

She laughed, “He’s a pistol, that one.”

She even commented on my painting, saying, “You’re not half bad. Your paintings I mean, they’re actually quite good and I know art. I have been the chairman of the Arts Committee for more than eight years now.”

I heard Livia talking to Allie in the hall.

“She’s painting. She’s really very good. I should have realized. She has that artist personality. Doesn’t care about her appearance, a kind of obsessed with something else look.”

“I don’t feel like fighting,” I called out after Livia left, “So if you’re here for round two, forget it.”

“I’m not here to fight.”

Allie paused behind the easel.

“She’s right, you know. Did you ever think you were meant to be an artist?”

I lied when I said, “I haven’t thought about it in years.”

I had thought about it, not every day, but periodically I would wonder if I could have been an artist or if I could still be one. After a while of day dreaming, I’d put away the fantasy in regards for reality. Knowing that someday when the time was right, when I had less responsibilities and more time, I’d come back to it again.

“You quit because of me,” Allie replied.

“I quit because of circumstances. You weren’t even out of high school.”

“I made you quit. I practically insisted.”

So Allie felt guilty.

“It was my choice. I made a decision.”

“I couldn’t do anything without you. I should have gone to college alone. I didn’t need you. I’m sorry I took your dream from you,” Allie insisted.

“I didn’t quit because of you. I quit because of me. I was scared and you were an excuse. After Grandma died, I had no one to go back to. I was alone too.”

That was the truth. It wasn’t Bryan’s fault. It wasn’t Allie’s fault. It wasn’t my parents’ fault. Ultimately it was my decision and my fault. I had no one to blame. If it didn’t work out now, it was only my fault. I had taken responsibility for everyone else except myself. I had been avoiding myself out of fear. As long as I never tried, I’d still have the dream. If I failed, then I would have the truth, it was just a silly dream. I might as well be dreaming of winning the lottery. At least with the lottery I’d have a chance. Once I tried and failed, my dream of being an artist would be over.

Read Full Post »

« Newer Posts - Older Posts »