Monthly Archives: January 2017

Praying for the Right Girl for My Daughter

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“Is Camille married?” She asked me. “No, not yet. I am just praying for the right girl to come along.”

She choked on her response.  “Oh. Oh. Oh. I am so glad you are okay with that.”

Yes, yes, yes. I am okay with that.

I was at a wedding in Montgomery, Alabama this summer.  A town I love and have called home since I was in the 9th Grade. I left there when I went to college. My husband, a lawyer, and I returned to Montgomery when we first got married, and he began his first job after law school. I was an attorney’s wife. I was in the Junior League. My children went to the best schools. We were members of the best church. We were in many social groups. Camille was a debutante. Yes, she was a debutante.  

Camille was raised going to etiquette classes which I taught, was a member of cotillion and made her debut at one of the best balls in the South. She had boyfriends, and we did all the right things to teach her right from wrong. Camille was an acolyte in the church and as a high student became a lector because of her ability to speak well before an audience.  And, she is gay.

Camille evolved into who she is. She was born that way but did not find the courage to live true to herself until she moved to Atlanta.  

She didn’t officially “come out” she just “evolved into”  being who she was born to be.  A gay person.

 

I have many friends in Montgomery as well as other small towns in the South who are supportive of her and do not believe she is going to hell.

But, I do have those who have told me they are praying for her and for me. I also officiate same-sex weddings. I have had people ask me why don’t I just pray for the right person for her or perhaps wait awhile, in case she decides she wants to marry a guy.  

No, I will not wait. I am a mother who prays for her children. I pray for their spiritual needs and their earthly needs. I pray for their happiness. I pray they know how to love themselves. I have been praying this prayer for years. It seems to me that one of these prayers have been answered. Camille loves who she is as a gay woman. She does not question that she was born this way and nor do I. I am grateful that we are at the point in our lives where I can just sit back and pray for her the right girl to come along.  

Give Me Art

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I am not sure if this is satire or a little melancholia.  I wrote this to detail my feelings as I discard certain “things” from my home in my desire to lighten the load, and not have so much “stuff.”  I was thinking about art in all of its forms. Art that requires physical space and art that occupies mental space.  I LOVE art I can touch, but I also love art I can read and hear.  This was an effort to console me. 

Give me art.

I must discard the canvas gently stroked with your brush.
The swirls and the colors shaped beautifully by your gift.
The fiber and the texture I can feel with my touch.
It is time to let it go.
Its dwelling place is gone.
Give me art.
I want to hold it close.
Write down the words that fill that space.
The beautiful prose I hear. 
Formed lyrically from your talent.
I have a home to store it.
Give me art.
Never to be cast out.
My spirit will hold the verse
and it will rest upon my heart.
 

 

 

On Tasting Grief

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My grief made me vomit sobs.

The pain was not palatable.

Repulsive pain.
The kind of pain that will make you hate.
Bitter.
That sick taste.
My grief made me vomit sobs.
Like a virus that lingers.
Cast out this substance.
Still shaky on my feet.
Time is what it takes to swallow life again.

Buy Good Bay Leaves

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My advice to my daughter today is…

Buy good bay leaves.
Your recipe calls for bay leaves.
If you buy the cheap ones and put them in your dish,
they will be superfluous.  
Profuse or perhaps refuse.
You will have to navigate them and take them out
before you can enjoy your meal.
The eye will see them and think the cook went to great detail
while preparing this bounty.
 
If they still have their flavor, it will be worth sifting them out.
But, if they have no essence they become trash to you.  
Unnecessary. 
You don’t need them.  
Buy good bay leaves.
 
 
 
 

I Know People

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I know people who live a life one foot in front of the other.  

They don’t leave the path on which they trod.
Maybe a stumble.  They must take a step back.  
Then, onward they go.
I know people who walk in a circle.  
They can’t find their path. Life floats them along.
I know people who trod and who float.
They capsize.  They plunge.
They ascend.  They rise.
I know this person.  

Ode To My Stuff

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Drawer after drawer.  Shelf beyond shelf.

Stacks of my beautiful stuff.
Some of you pristine. Never to be touched by my hand since the day you were tendered.
Some of you used.  Worn with the caress of my consumption.
Long forgotten or at the front of my thoughts.
You have a place in my heart.
Or do you?
Must I keep you?
Must I hold on?
Just because you are mine?  I possess you.
You are my stuff!  My beautiful stuff.
I forgot about some of you until I had room no more.
Then, with all of my might, I knew it was time.
It was time.  Time let you go.
My stuff!  My beautiful stuff.
Then, my heart and my mind doth continue to battle the war I have set before me.

Save Draft

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Save draft.  I am feeling a bit anxious this morning.  A bit in my head.  Thoughts racing.  What to do.  What to do?  I want to sit here and watch the birds outside my window.  Watch them eat.  Food provided by my benevolent husband.  It is a paradox.  We feed them so we can watch them.  They fascinate us. It is for us.  It is for our entertainment.  Is it really an act of giving? We think we must be the source of their food for the winter.  I want to watch them and escape.  I am writing today in my Gmail because Gmail will save my draft.  I woke up with anxiety this morning as I do most mornings.  I began to panic that I didn’t have the necessary backup for my computer.  I have so many things to do in 2017.  I need to ensure that my writings are saved.  I am just not up to it today.  So writing in my Gmail is my solution today.  It will automatically save this.  One thing I am good at is finding solutions.  I panic a little; then I move on.  There is no time for frying in panic.  Frying in panic.  Frying seems to be the opposite of marinating.  Marinating is stewing in something.  Letting it sit.  Panic doesn’t do that.  Panic takes a hold of you and it makes you done.  Fried.  I have a lot to do in 2017 and one thing I will do is to continue looking for solutions.