Life is Your Story

When you lie on top of me You give me shelter When you kiss me You give me fire When you hold me You give me lightning When you love me You give me sun Love me Hold me Touch me Kiss me Never leave me And my heart will beat  Like… Thunder beneath your hands

When you witness death, life no longer scares you. You find yourself comparing the end to the beginning. You forget that it’s the middle that counts because that is where everything happens. When you are waiting for your phone to ring and you are on a marathon of hospital runs and standing in elevators where everyone looks down instead of up; you transform into a shackled zombie shuffling along a single track always looking over your shoulder for an oncoming train. By the bedside watching a loved one slip away, you are reminded of how they lived. Tiny snapshots expand into full cinematic view. The heart rate machine seizes to reach its highs and lows and collapses into one final long beep. The oxygen mask is removed and your entire childhood slips through the palm of your hand leaving your soul robbed and barren. You die a little each day but on this day you die more. If there is one thing you learn from death; it is this: The beginning is for learning. The...

If you are middle aged, chances are you have already experienced saying goodbye to the house you grew up in. Often as in the case of my family, one parent passes away and the other (after 50 years) decides to downsize, move to an apartment and leave the ghosts behind. But you never really leave those ghosts behind because the house you grew up in will always be the house you grew up in. The walls have memories. The shadows that have been casted upon them remain although they change shape over time. Ask anyone which rooms hold the most memories and they will probably say “my bedroom and the kitchen.” Your bedroom kept your secrets, the dreams of your first crush, first kiss, the private telephone conversations that lasted for hours, the homework left stale because you decided watching TV or staring out the window in oblivion, was a better use of your time, the sleepovers, the first boyfriend/girlfriend who shared your bed, skin to skin, a feeling like no other. ...

This is what happened.   I went to meet a new freelance client downtown.   I am standing on a corner at a red light and across the way at the opposite light, I spot an X LOVER (this happens at several intersections on a weekly basis).   The decision process begins. Let’s run through this together.  Here are the choices: A - Walk briskly and pretend not to see him. B - Same as A except pretend to be talking to someone on my cell phone. C - Just be mature, polite, and normal for 3 minutes. Do the “How are you?” thing, listen attentively and then move along.   D - At all costs, back up slowly, keeping your eye on the subject and cross at a different intersection.   I chose option "D"   I'm heading down the wrong street in the wrong direction and I'm thinking to myself, "Maybe I should consider going back into therapy” when things suddenly get worse. I see a relative coming straight my way and I know from vast experience that she is a close...

Over the course of the past few years I have noticed that I am aging and I have come to the conclusion that this is happening because I am aging. And with this highly anticipated joyful life event my face is slowly slipping and sliding and large puffy pillows have formed under my eyes. These are most apparent when I awake in the morning fresh and waiting to start a new day. This is my Confession - please do not share it with anyone else. I’m middle aged. I’m forgetting everything including what I have forgotten. I am always tired and when I’m not I’m tired. My once flat stomach is in a constant state of bloatation (and I am prone to making up words). But by far the most visible sign of my ship sinking are those bags under my eyes and the lines that crisscross and align over their peaks. Thankfully I have the world at my hands and more than enough information on any subject whatsoever on the very happy and busy planet of Google. So I sear...

It’s getting dark. I’m heading home. You won’t be there. I’ll eat alone. I’ll wonder how I ended up Where I’ve ended up. I’ll put on the TV but I won’t watch. I’ll open up a book but I won’t read. I’ll get into bed but I won’t sleep. I’ll stare at the walls. The shadows staring back at me. I’ll close my eyes. I’ll hear your voice. I’ll see your face. Your lips will move. I’ll ask the question That everyone asks But you won’t answer You’ll walk away Into the white Into nothing I won’t get to tell you What I should have told you... You are the rhythm As I breathe in As I breathe out You are the reason I am here In the black Bumping into everything I love you I feel you somewhere Everywhere Nowhere And as you continue to fade As you move further away As every memory of you Comes crashing down I will open my eyes I will bite my lip ...

Dogs are incredible souls. They are gifts. We don’t have them for long but while we do have them they bless and enrich our lives. They love us from the time we bring them home until the light leaves their eyes and we become so accustomed to having them around that without them our lives become silent and empty.                                                         Buster (2007-2010) F*ck Cancer Dogs don’t care if you are fat or skinny, old or young, having a really bad hair day or if you are rich or poor. They just love you. They miss you the second you leave the house and they are there to greet you the second you open the door. They think that the greatest thing in the whole wide world (aside from rawhide) is spending time with you. They are funny not knowing they are funny ...

There are dark cold days when nothing falls into place and my heart drops and my mind spins. I can’t grasp onto anything or anyone. There is no exit from the heavy sorrow that fills and overflows seeping through my pores. There are slices of light and seconds of sun that lift me and push me upward and allow me to breathe fuller and escape what seems to be the unrelenting noise of my thoughts. And between these states of dark and light, between the flow of the ocean and the moon rising, I reach out and search for those I’ve lost, those I’ve loved, those I will never touch, see, hug, hold again in this life. I can’t find them because I don’t know where they are only that they are somewhere around me with me watching over me moving forward with me and forever connected to me.   When I close my eyes I see them and sometimes in my dreams I hear them. They are telling me they are okay and they will be there for me, they wait for me, their arms ...

Mothers face enormous challenges. They bring life into the world and if they are as loving as mine; they continue to breathe life into their child’s entire being even if it means there is little left for themselves. For as long as I can remember, my mother has never walked ahead or behind me; rather always beside me. Sometimes when you are a kid, you remain clueless as to how much your mother sacrifices for you. I was never one of those kids. I witnessed the ravages that Multiple Sclerosis placed upon my maternal Grandmother and as a child I stood by and watched my mother care for her selflessly, carefully and compassionately. The fact that she managed to do that at the same time as caring for our family and holding down a full time job, returning to school for several degrees; is something that leaves me in awe until this day. And now she rises again after another terrible fall – the loss of her husband. She carries on and cares for us and he...

We all have one. It’s someone you loved (whether or not they loved you back), still love and think of often. You carry them around with you everywhere and all throughout your life. You wonder if you will run into them at some obscure time for one intense moment and if you did, you wonder what you would say. You remember their face so clearly that you can see it whenever you search the back of your mind. Your life goes on and you share it with another and all of its complexities keep you busy and running but on a dark night while driving home or on a sleepy Sunday while hanging out on the couch; the memory of them seeps out from your pores and it brings all of the regrets, frustration, pain and happiness back in one mighty swoop. Sometimes you consider looking them up – finding them – calling them and seeing if you can be friends. You imagine yourself showing up on their doorstep and everything being okay and embracing in a warm hug. Other times you hope...

My mother has always said that the sweetest time in her life was when we were little and she held us in her arms. We would rap our hands around her neck and stare up into her eyes and watch her lips as she spoke and it was the purest form of love and affection one could find in this life. But what happens when children grow up, move out and starts lives of their own? What happens when they end up living in another city or country? Well, they have no choice but to learn to have less of us. They suffer inside because they are not able to witness all of the magical moments in our lives on a daily basis. Their Grandchildren come into the world and although they may be there for the day they are born and the celebrations thereafter, sooner or later they have to return home. The distance feels like a million miles away and every moment they miss will never be repeated. I wonder how many parents keep secrets in regard to the status of their health – mental and physical...