Memories.

Look at this picture, and tell me what you see.  Do you see weird hair, funny glasses, strange clothing?  I bet you do.  This picture is 25 years old, taken in the 80's, when fashion was at it's most unfortunate phase.

Look closer.

If you know me, (and yes, that IS me), then you can see the joy and adoration in my face.  The calm, happy and content place that I am.  In his face also.  This was from a time when there were many, many carefree, fun, nights, filled with laughter, love, butterflies in the tummy, and sheer happiness.

Twenty-plus years later, I gaze into those two sets of eyes...but others?  They see the clothes. The hair. I wish with all of my hear that others could see what I see.

Look again....these people had no idea what would be in store for them.  Soon, their worlds would crash around them, creating so much chaos, hurt feelings, betrayal, pain, screams, accusations, and gut-wrenching, crying-until-you pass out, sheer agony, one cannot describe.  No words.

And when the dust settled, one thing, one precious, priceless, beautiful, gifted little person was the result of this.  It was all worth it in the end.  Every.single.bit of it.

Sometimes, I return to this place, this innocent and wide-eyed naive girl, so madly in love with this person, and I wonder where she went, because, soon, very soon after this picture was taken, she would be gone forever.

I miss her so much sometimes.  Not true.  I miss her all the time.

An Update.

We have removed our son from school.  He will be home with us until we, and our son, feel comfortable that the school has made the changes which are necessary to afford him a free and appropriate public education.

In the meantime, he will be receiving services at home, as required by law. 

The bullys? Oh, they're still at school.  But that's ok.  Our son is home, safe, warm, and adored.

I Rise, by Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops.

Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don't you take it awful hard

'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines

Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I've got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame

I rise

Up from a past that's rooted in pain

I rise

I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise.

Maya Angelou

Pretties from the kiln!

Glass is magic! 
But, not everyone has a kiln, or the room for one, or the tools, and I feel so blessed to have the ability to make such pretty things.

I made sooo many of these over the holidays for custom orders and gifts, and I ran my kiln 24/7.  I had about 50 of these left over, and, after seeing the wayyyyyyyy overpriced items on Etsy, I decided to offer these up! 

Have fun!  This listing will be removed as soon as I need these in my own store!  :)

Slam Poetry.

Lashes Of Life

The lashes of life you may not see

Just by looking at me

I have hid the emotional scars deep within

And I have pretended my tears were diamonds

My mother beat me most of the time with an invisible whip

made with hurtful words that cut deep

But no one read the abusive signs

I carried like chains

When she thought I hadn't suffered enough

She beat me with anything close to her hands

And each time when she finally let me go I ran

Hoping to find a way of escape

No matter my childhood age

I was a frightened child

For I lived in the devil's rage

Even now that I am a grown woman

That frightened child lives within me

But I hide her so the world will not see

What a "Mother" did to her

When my mother died

People wondered why I hardly cried

I, and the child within me watched

as mother was lowered in her deep dark grave

And I knew she would never again

Hurt the little child within me.

The Ripple Effect: The Heartbeat to Eternity

What a TRIP!

The long and short of it:  Angels followed us, and let us everywhere.  This trip belonged to mom and I, and I will share some, but not all.  Some of it, I have to keep in my heart.  It's only for me.  I love her so much.

It's alot to tell.  B.B. King sang the entire concert to mom.  He had been tipped off that mom is very ill, and this concert was on her "Bucket List"...long story short...We ended up spending an hour chatting with B.B. King, about this and that, after the concert, on his tour bus.  I only took one picture.  The rest of it belongs to my Mom.  I love you.  Thank you, B.B.  We will never, ever, ever forget you.