open and shut them a game with toddlers to still their hands to make them giggle I play it in my head to still my fears open and shut them ambulance out the window stretcher in the hall two paramedics in blue electrodes on his chest it’s not like last time give a little clap, clap, clap take me back to stillness no ripples spreading out just flat glassy ease a breath and a sigh open and shut them pajama pants, slip-on shoes home before sunrise coffee while he sleeps hugs when he wakes put them in your lap, lap, lap
“Way out in the country tonight he could smell the pumpkins ripening toward the knife and the triangle eye and the singeing candle.”—Ray Bradbury
October was a blur of busyness and I’m behind in everything—laundry, dishes, yard work, and blogging. Life is like that sometimes.
My month included poetry night. Housesitting. A music festival. Helping my sister-in-law after emergency surgery. Becoming a godmother. Dungeons & Dragons. Five pumpkin patches with my nephew. Halloween traditions. Movies. Haunted houses. Lots of treats.
My photo assignment, which I’m posting four days late, was to capture the fall season. I took these photos at our annual family outing to Rickey Ranch last week. Not my best work, but who doesn’t love cute animals and a beautiful sky.
To everyone starting NaNoWriMo—happy writing! I’m not participating this year but I’ll root you on. Bring on November!
sometimes i let the neighbor cat inside to wander my things. tail held high he weaves through rooms, king of the castle, purring. today he finds grandmother’s wood hope chest with the carved letter K, for Kate. “what’s this?” he asks rubbing against my bare legs. “let me show you,” i say lifting him from the lid. her smell is gone, but her things remain, tucked inside mine. old and older. dear grandmother and granddaughter. here. gently i pull out a dark blue handkerchief, tracing the small K. “see?” we walk into the backyard, cat at my heels, and place it upon the bright flowers. she loves being outside. sunlight warms my skin. twice.
Shakespeare’s measured love Kubrik’s fractured time Photography’s micro-moments Nature’s meditative breath Animal’s magical simplicity Book’s escape plan Quiet’s unspoken pain Legacy’s abandonment core Love’s imperceptible gaze
This is me and my dad in the late 1970s. The books above are from a collection I won as a child with my dad at the Fair Oaks Shakespeare Festival. Although I’m always pushing for more, I’m grateful for my hippy animal-loving father. Happy Father’s Day.
with picking out bright yellow sunflowers from Trader Joe’s and hoping my eyes aren’t still puffy from crying myself to sleep last night
with wearing my expensive Dior lip gloss 026, intense mauve shimmer, because it makes me feel fancy
with drinking water from the turtle cup with the metal straw, the one my best friend made for me, because it makes everything taste better
with seeing the text I sent my dad about my feelings was read on Sunday but he’s still not responded, and deciding not to send another one
with wearing the colorful flower dress my four-year-old nephew said was his favorite because it makes me look like a garden
with playing the absolute stupidest game ever on the Nintendo Wii with the teens, drinking Grimace’s birthday shakes, and laughing so hard I remember kegel exercises are important
with waking up early to water outside and saying hi to three bumblebees and one hummingbird who lingered close enough I could see how incredible their wings are
with moving my watermelon plant to another part of the yard because it’s getting choked out by the enormous pumpkin leaves and wanting it to have a chance to survive
with watching all 10 episodes of Drag Me to Dinner with my daughter and wanting to hug every LGBTQ person on the planet and tell them they are loved
with having teary conversations with my teens about respect and communication knowing they will always have me and each other in their corner no matter what
with replacing the bowl of old candy on the counter with a bowl of fresh apples because I can’t make others love me the way I want to be loved, but I can eat healthier
with turning to words again and not worrying if they are good enough because that’s not the point and I can show up exactly how I am
what if my family was big enough to fill the movie theater? would i grow weary of so many arms hugging me? so many pies to eat? or would I finally be full?
“Things blossom in their time. They bud and bloom, blossom and fade. Everything in its time.” —Neil Gaiman
This week my assignment for the 52 photo challenge was to create an image with a blurry foreground. My daughter and I went to the McKinley Rose Garden in downtown Sacramento at sunset, but I found it hard to not focus on close-up photos of the gorgeous petals. I spent hours messing around with the settings on my camera and getting very annoyed at myself. I left grumpy, covered in mosquito bites, and feeling like a fraud.
On Friday, in an attempt to feel better, I grabbed the camera and took a few shots of my darling nephew. Unfortunately, I’m not sure about those shots either. It seems I’m discontent with everything I create right now. It feels like I’m stagnant or perhaps I’m too close to see my own growth. It’s making me feel insecure, needy, and impatient. Ugh.
All this to say, I really need help in picking an image to share with the photography group this week. Any favorites? Also, any advice on beating the creativity blues is more than welcome. Thank you for stopping by and smelling the roses. I hope you have a fantastic week!
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Photos were taken with an Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW
If you want to join the 52 Photo Challenge, you can find all the information at nicolesy.com
you get stoned say you’re proud say you’re sorry say I’m beautiful
I believe you motherhood cuts deep your scars shine
like mine
My Daughter
you’ve inherited broken glass jagged-edged shattered dreams that are not yours
I tried smoothing them with cold ocean waves deep muddy lake dives but they still cut
you don’t believe me because fresh wounds sting lines etched into softness but I see you
I’m proud of you I’m sorry you are beautiful
Mother’s Day isn’t an easy day for many, but I hope today you find solace in knowing motherhood binds us more than separates us. We all come from birth. We all are broken. We are all doing our best. May you find a piece of love to hold today and every day.
Bridgette Tales 