Father's Day - My Daddy

It's hard for me to talk about my father. It's hard for me to explain the good and the bad and then expect the outcome of opinion to still judge him as a 'good' person when I'm finished. I still think of him that way though, a good person. I think I finally figured out why.

My mother to me, is not a good person. She left my brother and I when we were very young, my brother was so young that he didn't even remember her. My dad raised us, or at least he tried. We never had much of anything. We were pretty much the poorest people that I knew that could still afford to live in a house, even if that house went without electric or water from time to time. Things got a little better for awhile, my dad remarried and had two more kids, we had two incomes, always had water, electric, food...all the neccesities. But as much as I love her still to this day, our step-mother was partial and a bit mean at times. They soon divorced, took my brothers away and we were back to one income. Soon my dad had two more kids, same lady, but after the divorce. They were twins. Now there was child-support and weekend visits in which I was responsible for all the babies. But my dad had to work.

During all of this my father was a raging alcoholic. He got mean when he was drunk and sometimes he got over emotional and would tell us how proud he was of us and just cry. My dad never told us things like that sober. We were the family that didn't talk about feelings, emotions or life. We just co-existed in a home where we knew we could count on one another if the need ever really arised. I was lucky enough to make friends with a girl who lived a couple of neighborhoods over. Her mother was my gaurdian angel for the longest time. Without her I would have went through so many things without any help or guidance.

But still, through all of this, my dad was a good person. I truly feel like my dad always tried. I feel that if he would have known how, he would have done more, given more, loved more. I know my dad loves me. I know my dad would give the world for me if he could. But he can't and although he doesn't say it, I don't need to hear it to know it's true. So despite all the hardships during my childhood, I still think of my daddy as a good person. I don't look back with hatred but more sadness, for him, for us, for the situation. I love my dad and I'm pretty proud to call him mine.

To be...

I feel confident right now. I feel secure within myself.

There's something about growing older that allows you to break your shell of insecurity and embrace who you are and who you are becoming fully. I feel that I'm getting there. Or are there. Maybe. Not fully but close.

I've got my life mostly figured out. Mostly. It's nice, peaceful.

I'm not rich. I don't live some super exciting lifestyle. But I'm happy, content. If I spend the day alone, just me and my camera, me and my notebook, me and just the world around me, I'm full of life. I've discovered that simplicity is the key to happiness in my life. The simpler, the better.

I find joy in sunshine. Like, when I go into work and the sun still hasn't come out and I walk to the front of the store and there it is, rising above the buildings. I fall in love. I just stand there taking it in. I soak up the warmth, I long for the burn in my eyes. It sounds silly, I know. But for a moment I'm at complete peace and total awe. And I really do love that burn, it's my favorite part.

I've found that I can totally appreciate a great painting, photograph, song or piece of literature. I mean, REALLY appreciate it. Like, stare for hours, listen for hours, read for hours. The same thing, turning it's meaning over and over in my head. I think I could get lost forever if you let me.

I've never really been that patient in my life. I've never really found peace in being alone or being simple. I like to move, I like to surround myself with company always. But there's a specialness to being that opposite that I hope to hold on to for a very long time. I like finding myself. I like feeling like that I've done just that: found myself. I like feeling like I know who I am, without influences of other people. It makes me just giddy inside.

This I promise...

will make very little sense. But I'm okay with that. I just have that itch.

This week has been exhausting. My body is not used to working 10 hour days and my mind is not used to being in charge.

Responsibility.

So very much of it. It's overwhelming. But I handle it well, if I can say so myself.

I was used to the running, the picking up where others failed to follow through. But there's more of that now.

I open at 5:30. By 7:30 I have turned on the lights, unlocked the doors, baked and topped 7 'gourmet' cakes, 3 brownies, 25 cookies. I've made 10 pots of coffee, cut tomatoes, onions, cucumber, filled salt, pepper, sugars, creamers. I've made out checks, filled the pop cooler, started the muffins. All while running register, making the drinks, running the food, cleaning the tables...and more, so much more.

Some how I'm capable.

That doesn't stop the exhaustion.

Sore. Numb.

It's 9 p.m. and I'm fighting sleep with all of my might. I remember looking at the clock at 5 and wondering how pathetic I would be if I just went to bed then. Now I have more motivation to stay awake. Jeremy should be home soon. I hope. I haven't seen him once today.

I got several compliments today. Several 'you're doing a great job'. Several 'I really enjoy you as my boss.'

But that puts fear in my bones. Fear that they'll end up hating me in the end. Because although I'm their friend...I am their boss. And I know how they are. I know how much they slack when no one is looking. I know because I've picked up that slack for months now.

Good. Evil.

I suppose I should pick my poison. I'm just tired. Two more day, two more days and then two off. I cannot wait.

Hush Hush

This is one of those times, one of those moments in my life that I realize I'm not exactly the person that most perceive me to be. It's one of those moments where I long to share things that are considered taboo, one of those moments where I spill my guts and later realize that it was something I should have kept secret.

But I don't want to. Silly, I know.

Knowing is one of the strangest things, tracking dates and listening to your body for little feelings. It's a wonderfully, mysterious strange that I have very carefully taught myself to do in the last year and a half since I've been married.

See, my husband and I prayerfully made the decision when we were married not to use contreceptives in our love making. We knew the risks that this meant, but we studied up, we read all about ovulation and tracking your basal body temperature and things that most men and women never learn about until they are trying to get pregnant. Only, we're not trying to get pregnant, rather, we're doing just the opposite.

A year and a half has gone by and I've never been late, I've never felt as if there's been any sort of little Ovenshire beginning it's life inside of me. I've always felt that our precautions every month have lead us to a baby-free comfort zone. Until today.

It's foolish I know. But there's only a few days out of the month that we normally try to avoid any 'accidents'. We know these days well, I track dates and temperatures, little feelings and pains. We knew that today was a 'prime' day for conception, we knew that when we met in the hallway this afternoon, lips locked, that we would have to be careful.

But we weren't...and we didn't care to be.

It's not that here, a couple hours later, I feel as if I'm on my way to being a new mother. I just feel a bit...dangerous, like I've broken the rules and now I have to wait to be 'caught'. More than likely, I will forget all about our incident here in a few days. I will move on, continue the month and the next without a second thought about it.

But right now I feel free. Silly, I know. But I love it.

And even though it's nothing too great, I just felt like sharing. Despite what others may think, despite that it may be on the 'taboo' side, I just wanted someone to join into my feeling of free.

I loved my pappy. I always called him ‘pappaw’ but when I think of him now, I think ‘pappy’. It’s the same for my grandmother, who I will forever call ‘mammal’ but will always think ‘grannie’.

He passed away in 1998 after a long struggle with cancer. I will never forget that night, I will never forget the last time that I saw him. He smiled so big, he waved and I waved back. I walked out of that hospital without a single thought of that being our last goodbye.

I had a concert that night. It was Christmas time and I was in fifth grade. Mrs. Toby was our music teacher and she always loved putting together little concerts and shows for our parents to come to. Anyone who ever attended C.F. Holliday and knew her, will remember and tell you about the Wack-A-Do-Zoo. I’m pretty sure that I was a pig that mooed.

We went to see my pappy that night. My memory is a big foggy but I’m almost positive that it was before my concert. My dad took us to see him, ‘us’ being my brother Robert and me. He was in the ICU and my grannie was there by his bed side.

We didn’t really talk, I just curled up in the bed next to him, being accustomed to sitting in his lap even though I’d grown far too large for it. He couldn’t talk then anyway. The cancer had started in his neck and years before they had removed his voice box and inserted a trachea. I remember the pad and pencil that he had with him, to communicate with the doctors, nurses and family.

I was too young to understand it fully then. I thought he would get better and come home. I thought that when someone went into the hospital, they always came out. But he didn’t come out.

My dad woke me and my brother up the next morning for school. We got dressed and had breakfast and as we were walking out the door he simply said, “Oh, you’re grandfather passed away through the night. I almost forgot to tell you.”

I was devastated.

I cried all the way to school. I cried during my first class. I left during my second and went to the office to call my grandmother. I just remember telling her that I was sad. It was the only emotion I felt that day. Just sad.

To this day it makes me sad. It breaks my heart every time that I think of him or talk about him. I have a picture frame that I’ve always kept close to me that is the home of a single picture of us: me sitting in his lap, just like old days. I miss him a lot of times like it he just left us yesterday. Even now I sit here almost unable to see my computer screen because of the tears that continue to bubble and fall from my eyes.

I know he is in a better place. Home with Jesus in paradise without anymore of that pain and suffering he knew here on earth. I know I’ll see him there again one of these days. But knowing just lessens the hurt, it doesn’t take it away.

Memorial day always brings back the memory of my grandfather. It always brings back that raw hurt and emotion I feel when I think about him. I usually go and visit his grave on this sacred Monday. I dust off the grass and dirt from the plaque at his feet and read over the words written there, the details of his days in war.

Memorial day is about honoring and remembering those who died in war, those who gave their life for the safety and freedom of this country. But to me it’s more. To me it’s about remembering my pappaw, the man who stole my heart as a little girl. The man who’s face will always be imprinted in my mind, waving and smiling as I walked away, saying goodbye without ever even knowing it.

Early Mornings

I love early mornings. You know the kind. Those mornings when you awake before the rest of the world, before the sun peeks it's shining head above the horizon, before the dew slowly disappears from each little blade of grass and your house and home is just quiet.

I don't find these mornings often anymore. The moment I stir the pup is wanting to go out, the cat is meowing for attention and more than likely, I'm only up because it's time for work and I have little to no time to take in any of the peace of silence anyway. Today was not one of those days.

Today I basked in the warmth of a silent sunrise, breathed in the smell of fresh dew and grass around me. Today I stretched and yawned, fresh coffee in hand, with only the company of my wondering mind and of course, God.

Today I prayed gently for forgiveness. I prayed for help and guidance, for hope and comfort. I prayed selfishly, I prayed for myself and my family and for once, I left everyone else out. I prayed for more early mornings, more warm sunrises and more time with God.

Peacefully, gently, just me and Him.

I left everything else in yesterday. I moved carefully into today without a care and although I know that it will not last, that tomorrow will come and my work week will begin and my mornings will be chaos, I do not care. Today is a perfect early morning and that is what I am focusing on.

Cinco De Mayo, Tattoos, Mother's Day & Graduation

That about sums it up really. Cinco de Mayo was a blast. (Yeah, I know it's pointless to celebrate another country's holiday, especially when the country itself doesn't even celebrate it...but anything to go out and have a good time with friends, right?) However, it left me sick all day...which makes no sense. I think it was the one Negra Modelo and the super lack of sleep.

Brandon got two new tattoos. I love them and am totally jealous because I have been planning my next one out for a year now and have yet to go get it. So, goal for 2010, finally get my foot tattoo...even if it hurts like crazy and I cry like a baby because of it.

Mother's day is Sunday. I love mother's day, I always make something cute for my grandmother. This year however, I have made nothing, I have bought nothing and I have nothing planned. Well, actually...I do have something planned. We will be in the car driving all day, now that I think of it.

My cousin's graduation is Saturday. We are leaving after work tomorrow to head to Virginia. I'm so excited. Her and Matt are so awesome, so amazing. I miss them so much and I can't wait for tomorrow to get here. Oh...and my Uncle Coy's birthday is Sunday. So this is just a week full of excitement!

Tired...going to bed now. Snooooozzee.