A Kiss

Love between two people encircles desires much more
than the sky that encircles the world.
lips touch,
Sending warmth and comfort
No words need to be spoken,
Because the two souls send
Comfort and trust as their lips connect
Eyes closed with a tight squeeze
Words unspoken of
Honey I love you.
A kiss brings peace to the heart and mind.

LIFE

A journey, an experience, a trial, a joy.

People interest me...they help me to recognize my faults. Where I've messed up and why I respond with certain behaviors. Friends, family, and my children have helped me to sort out my own definition of who I am and what I stand for.

Yesterday, I observed people saying bye to each other. Hugging a loved one with a kiss on a cheek. Others made a point to have eye contact. Some gave a wave of the hand and the common famous words, "Good Bye"

My perspective of each of them, I am sure, was much different. I saw them in a light that I don't think anyone in the room saw. Maybe one or two did, but I doubt it.

I'm sold on the idea that hurtful words can damage the soul. Making you travel on a road you didn't chose or really want, but one you are forced to walk or ride on. I'm a believer that a hug, a smile, or compliment can have a lasting impact on relationships and lives.

The words you speak, the jealously you have towards another person. The fact you let others know you are better, because of your wealth, standing in the family or because you are always right and no one else can say anything.

Why do we hold on to the past? Why do we let the past affect what choices we make when we are older? My choices at the age of ten did mold my teenager years. Then, when I was a teenager the
choices I made have formed me unto the woman I am now. A woman who is lost at times, over the fact I dreamt of a future much different than the one I am living.

Why do we let others bring the worst or the best out of us? Why do we stand shaken with guilt over someone else's problems or mishaps? Why do we look at someone and wonder why they got the better end of the stick?

I'm not the jealous type and I don't give a darn if someone has a expensive car, lives in large big house or has the nicest furniture. Those objects can never hug you, love or praise you. They only last as long as they hold up.

One mean, hurtful word can leave a scar. A scar that makes life useless, meaningless and not of value. Making the scar seem impossible to ever heal.

Anger, sadness, joy, sorrow, frustration, guilt, peace, laughter, loss, and love are only few definition of what my journey in life has been.

My Dear Dad

Gently pulling Quentin out of the car, I envisioned my cute, white-haired Dad resting on the clouds above my parents' home. Overcome with a desire to pull the clouds closer, I longed for the memories of my father to comfort me. I pictured his charismatic smile and thought of one of the famous jokes he always shared. I grinned when I spark of sunshine showered me.

There never was a dull moment with Dad, I thought.

I sniffed, trying to revive the familiar scent that had always calmed me in the past, but realized there was no one or nothing could smell like my dad.

My eyes watered as it was only a month that I watched my father rolled out of the house. Sorrow resurfaced and my hands shook, as I realized a few feet from where I parked is where I witnessed them placing my father in the back of a van. My heart had been ripped just the same as the night strangers close the van doors. To erase those gloomy memories, I imagined instead my dad wearing his fluorescent orange hat that had all the grandkids’ names written on it and him struggling to push the old, deteriorated lawnmower across the front yard. First, warmth filled my chest and then I felt a smile stretch across my face with thoughts of Dad, until I remembered he’d never come back, and the warmth gave way. Vacant inside, unable to focus. The emptiness filled my heart and made my stomach feel heavy. Lifting my chin to help fight back the tears, I staggered, held tight to my son’s hand and focused on sidewalk towards my parents’ apartment.

Happy Birthday Dad!!!

My father and I

My father... loved me and... I loved him.
My father... helped me and... I tried to help him.
My father...wrote songs and... I sang them.
My father... smiled and... my heart smiled back.
My father... gave and... I took.
My father's first love was his mother...and my father was mine.
My father loved Mario Lanza and I loved the Beach Boys
My father loved Music and... so did I.
My father taught me right from wrong and... I learned.
My father glided across the ice rink and...I followed.
My father held my hand and... I held his love.
My father loved to play the piano and I loved to listen.
My father loved my mother and so did I.
My father's journey on this mortal life is done, but his spirit lives.
A tree drops it's leaves, a rose blooms, a baby giggles, a hug gives warmth, and the words I love you bring peace.
My dad dropped his dreams to help mine. He made my world bloom with joy. He lit up my life.
His hugs were warmer than the bright sun.
His deep voice spoke volumes with the words, "I love you"
His laughter pierced my soul with delight and comfort.
My father's sky blue eyes...sparkled and still sparkle when, I see stars dress the sky.
Happy Birthday dearest, lovable, priceless Dad...You are missed each time I take a breath, look at my children and grandchildren. YOU will forever be imbedded in my life.  
I love you to the moon and back. I love you always and forever.
I appreciate you being my father and letting me be your daughter.

Life Cycle Is Like A Rose

It starts out as a seed
Craving water and sun.
The roots seek to find rich soil
And the rosebud wants to exhibit it beauty.
With each new bloom
Followed by a thorn or two.
As the wind blows and the rain descends
The petals begin to fall.
The rose reaches and stretches for energy,
Hopeful that the day ahead will bring
More potency.
New buds appear
Filled with splendor.
The mature rose
Greets each bud,
Gives them a wave,
And then,
Becomes exhausted.
Anxious to shed its petals,
And return to the soil it once came from.

Written By: Pamela Shelton Reynolds

Thousand years...of Pain.

Life, as a teenager...these were my thoughts...of how I saw life.
Below is a section of an experience I had as a youth. I thought I would share a small part from one of my chapters that I have often reflected on.

Here is a song that ties in to how I felt
 and still stirs emotions from decades ago.

I was admitted to a mental hospital at the age of 18 1/2
with a broken heart from a teenage love.

This song peels away the scar that has never disappeared from my soul.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q9ayN39xmsI&feature=youtu.be

Chapter 37 Mom's Wonderful Trick

Paul and Chad entered my thoughts while I sat on a firm bed. I knew, this time, they would not be able to comfort me like they had when I had Guillain-Barré Syndrome. I wondered what classes Paul was taking, whom he walked with as he moved from one class to the next. Who did he sit with when he ate dinner, lunch and breakfast. Curious if he thought of me as he went out on Friday and Saturday night. My lowest moment as I felt my head droop was, has he already met someone new. Here at this hospital there would be no Paul, no Chad, no phone, no pictures, and no possessions of mine on the nightstand. I had circled back to the familiar displacement I had experienced over and over with my past foster home visits. But, in this unusual abandonment by Paul, Chad, and now my parents, sorrow pierced my soul. Rejection was just one of the negative words that seemed to linger in my head. I was not just physically alone, I was mentally alone.

The sound of footsteps became more potent with each second. A different nurse in bright orange scrubs and long brown hair stood at the doorway.

“Elizabeth, it’s time for dinner. Could you come with me?”

I felt eerie as I followed her. I didn’t pay attention to the directions to the cafeteria. When I entered, it seemed lifeless, even though it was full of strange people. Tears formed in my eyes, and I felt frightened. I did not have a desire to step farther into the room, but I knew I had to go through the line to receive food. A young man about twenty stood behind the counter and served. I stared at his white and blue football jersey with BYU across the upper back. I froze with no desire to move, unsure of how to cope with the fact he attended the same university Paul had escaped to when he abandoned me. I shook my leg and forced myself to walk over to one of the round tables. I sat by myself and began to sob. I tried to hold back the tears, but they continued to pour out, making a pool of water on my tray. I pulled the upper part of my shirt collar to wipe the tears. I turned my head and told myself I wouldn’t look over at that young man again. I took several deep breaths, rubbed my eyes. My face felt hot and my heart turned cold from the anguish of wanting Paul, needing Paul. I closed my eyes and pictured Paul with me, his warmth breath on my neck and his lips against mine.

A lady at the next table had marks on her face. She constantly picked at her facial sores that dripped blood on her hands. I ate quickly and made a break for the exit.

I ran out into the hallway and rested against the wall, trying to remember the way back to my room. It was a blur and finally a nurse helped me. When I entered my room I rested my head on a stiff white pillow that I covered with tears. I laid on top of the covers with no desire to use them. Emptiness stirred the room, filled my heart. I talked to the moon that showed its face in the window, a moon I hoped would relay a message to Paul that I loved him, a moon I hoped he was talking to also. I was mesmerized by the stars that dressed the sky, stars that danced freely. I wished at that moment I had the freedom to love Paul. Before I drifted off to sleep, I made a wish on the star that seemed brighter than any other. And hoped Paul was wishing on that same star for us to be together. I wished that Paul still loved me.

I awoke to a bleak speck of sun early that morning. I felt gross and rolled out of bed to use the restroom. With each stroke of the toothbrush against my teeth, I begged for someone to rescue me. I brushed my hair with the bargain-basement style brushes they had provided. I splashed water on my face to remove the tears that I had the night before. I closed the bathroom door and leisurely walk back and sat on the bed. I waited for what seemed hours for the nurse to appear. I stared at the doorway that led out to an empty hallway. I shook my leg and wondered what new dreadful surprises awaited me. I felt an urge to pray. I closed my eyes, bowed my head and folded my arms. Words welled through my lips.

Heavenly Father, please help me cope. Please, Heavenly Father, give me strength to pull through this. I’m trapped in a well and unable to pull myself out. Lower a rope to pull me up. Please let the doctors see I’m not suicidal. Know Heavenly Father that my mother is the one that thought I was suicidal, not me. Never would I destroy something you had created.

 Peace entered my heart when I ended my prayer. It was at peace of knowing I would leave this place soon. I tried to pull the bitterness towards my mother out of me, but the anger that stirred with each moment that passed made it hard to do.

I heard footsteps coming and took one look around the room. When I looked back at the door the nurse was standing at the door and smiling.

“You are moving to another room and will have a roommate. Follow me.”

I knew, once I walked out the door, I would never enter that room again, because they would realize I wasn’t suicidal. I followed the nurse down a narrow hallway that went to the cafeteria. I smelled the food as we passed by the entrance to the dining hall. My stomach felt empty and my heart did too.

  I believed, I would have loved Paul and Chad for a thousand years, and I believed they would have loved me for a thousand more.

Special Olympics Singing National Anthem at Diamondback Game

My son Max singing the National Anthem.