Head -space

I was going to write a hard post about how people treat me and how I feel. But I realised it would be misconstrued.  And I don’t have that type of energy to spend on explaining right now.

Instead I send out love and peace to everyone. I am not fighting. I am not angry. I am don’t hiding. I’m just trying to make sense of my life.

It’s been quite hectic. But i have never been without a lesson…

Some things are not yours to fix

Some people will not treat you right

Some days are dark and thoughts are darker.

Sometimes hard decisions take time to make.

Your children will always love you unconditionally.

Tomorrow is another day.

God gives you what you need and it’s not always what you want.

 

Every day I try to find something to be thankful for. Today it was something small…smoked chicken mayo roll.

Sometimes realising that the ‘small’ things are not small to everyone adds some humbling perspective.

Stay humble. Be thankful.  Learn the lessons.

What are you thankful for today?

 

 

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Rosemary.Chapter 1.

They huddled together on their mother’s bed. All three of them had on white nylon stockings and similar navy blue dresses. The older two sat in silence as their little sister whimpered and sniffed.

The house was finally empty. Everyone had left and their  father was polishing off the bottle of whiskey in the living room.He looked around the room at all the flowers and crumpled tissues and glasses all over. He closed his eyes and sighed at the thought of cleaning up.

He topped up his glass. The bottle was almost finished so he reconciled that it wouldn’t make any difference and he filled his glass to the brim. It spilled over the edge as he brought the glass to his lips. The liquid soaked his tongue. Another big sip to make the glass manageable. He settled back into his chair and let the whiskey do its job.

Thoughts of his wife and her speedy departure were pushed to the back of his mind. The girls. The house. The debt. All of it was a blur with a strong bottle of whiskey.

Everyday since her death he has had to numb himself from the truth. Rosemary died and left him to pick up the pieces. He was angry with her.

She knew for a while that she was sick. She knew . Her doctor was shocked that he didn’t know.

Everyone knew Rosemary as the free-spirited kind person. He knew people always wondered how a guy like him got a girl like her. The accountant and the dancer. World’s apart.

But none of that mattered any more.

Michael woke up the next morning,the glass of whiskey gone,the living room was clean and the smell of strong coffee in the air.

His youngest daughter was sitting at his feet watching cartoons.

‘Morning Penny Pie’

The little girl looked up at him , the strain of crying evident on her face.

‘Morning pappa bear. Megan’s  made you coffee’ she turned her attention back to the tv.

His head was splitting. He took a sip of coffee. The house phone rang.

‘Dad!it’s for you. It’s Dr Marsh’

He had been dreading this phone call. He slowly made his way to the room. Megan didn’t look impressed with him,he knew it was because of his drinking every night essentially leaving her to see to the house and the younger two. He looked at her and tried to make eye contact,but she just shoved the receiver into his hand and left.

‘Good morning’…he cleared his throat. ‘Good morning, Michael Alice speaking

“Mr Alice. Dr Marsh asked if you could make it to his office today…any time is fine. He received your test results but wants to discuss it with you personally”

Michael tried to get more information from the nurse but eventually agreed to see the doctor. A million things filled his head.

Megan was setting the table for breakfast. She was working fast. Juggling plates and bowls and knives and forks. Keeping busy kept her from sobbing, she was exhausted from having so much to do but it kept her busy. She called Penny to the table and then called for Jess who was dangerously circling the drain of depression…but she was always the emotional one.

Michael wasn’t called but he joined them.

Meg dished up for Penny then took a big gulp of coffee.

‘Since when do you drink coffee’ Michael seemed shocked

” Two whiskey drinkers would be frowned on now wouldn’t it” Meg wanted the words to hurt, and it did.

” I’m going to Dr Marsh later. He did some blood tests on me , do you ladies want to get out of the house for a while”

No reply.

” Ok. That’s OK. ”

They ate in silence with only the sound of the cartoons in background. He looked at his poor girls and thought about their mother …

Rosemary stopped dancing when Megan was born. She never said it but Michael knew she resented him for encouraging her to give it up. As the years went by her restlessness grew. She started doing crazy things like taking the girls shopping for the day then leaving them in the car outside a club while she danced the night away. Michael would come home from night shift and find the house empty. The strange behaviour became one of her quirks because everyone loved her and no one could admit that something was wrong. Dealing with her became part of his day-to-day.

“You’ve got to clean moms car out today. There’s some paraphernalia in there that could get us into trouble” Meg stared at him intensely , she wanted him to get what she was saying.

Michael closed his eyes and sighed hard. ” I thought she was done with all that”

“Well that’s what you get for abandoning your family “

“That’s not fair Megan. I had to leave and was not abandoning you. You know why I moved out”

Megan’s face was blood-shot . Her melt down was immanent but somehow she managed to contain it.

Michael got up and walked out side to the car. He opened the door and it was filled with takeaway boxes and sweets and Penny’s drawings. It didn’t take long for him to find her stash. But the size of her stash was not normal…in fact it was too much for one person. On further inspection he noticed that the  brick sized package had not been opened at all. There was a piece of paper selotaped to the package with a name and number.

 

“What did you do Rosemary…”

 

 

 

 

 

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The Journey, Chapter 4. Understanding

I find myself in front of apartment 201 again. Staring at the cracked paint on the door. My mind is so busy, i cant seem to remember things so clearly, I have to force myself to concentrate. ..the second I relax it’s as if I’m being sucked up through a straw. I can feel myself being pulled. Must be my vertigo acting up.

Mariam flings the door open. Her face is flushed.

” I can’t get them to leave. They want to see you again”

I nod enthusiastically but not so much that she is annoyed.

I walk into the open plan space and feel the tingling from before. Moving through the apartment the tingle spots are stronger in certain places.

Mariam asks me to sit down as before.

No jokes this time? She smirks. No eye contact. Jeez, she must really be pissed.

“I’m going to connect you with them now. Sit still. You’ll understand at the end”

Why do I feel so weird somethings not right.

The lights flicker. Mariam is whispering to herself …as before. Her palms face down on the table.

The lights flicker.

All the noise is sucked out of the room, it’s so quiet ..I feel deaf like the pressure you feel under water.

Mariam lifts her palm..there’s a picture. It’s dated. She pushes it towards me.

I look at it. It’s not a very nice picture, a woman lying in a hospital bed. She has lots of pipes coming out of her.

“WHy are you showing me this”

“I want you to understand”

“Okaay Mary…you are really creepy.You made me come here in the middle of the night to look at a sad picture”

” how did you get here? Do you know? ”

What a weird questions. I’m starting to get that pulling feeling.

“Look at the pic…and the date”

I grab the picture. The lights flicker. I feel the anger swell in me.

“It’s dated 5 months ago”

Mariam closes her eyes and starts her whispering again. It sounds like she’s talking to someone. .but I can’t make out what she is saying.

And then I hear his voice. As clear as the last time I heard it in the hospice.

“Carrie “

It’s the most beautiful thing.

I turn around and he is standing by the door. He is tall and healthy. His eyes are wrinkled with his smile and his hand is stretched out to me. He has his blue jeans on and his checked shirt. He is handsome. I want to run to him. I want him to tell me everything is going to be okay and he has seen those who have hurt me.

I hear Mariam whisper behind me to go with my father.

But that’s impossible. .how can I leave everything. ..my husband , my kids, my house what about the damn dog.

” the woman in the picture is you. You were in an accident. They’ve been keeping you on life support for 5 months. Don’t worry now, where you are going this won’t matter. Go with him”

I know she’s not lying. The memories flood back .

How did I not see. I thought I was looking for my father, but they found me in the space between here and there. They knew I would hang around for a final farewell.

 

I knew it wasn’t just a dream.

 

 

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The Journey. Chapter 3. When you see them, they see you.

It’s  1am and I’m  awake.

My eyes are paining from trying to make out shapes and figures in the darkness of my room.

I can’t stop playing the events of the day over and over in my head. This feeling is so strange, it’s like fear and exhilaration in one. Could be shock.

Mariams reaction to the events lets me know that this is not any trick or game, she genuinely looked terrified and confused. She told me not to come back, she told me to find someone else to help me.

I’ll give her a few days to pull herself together but there is no way I’m finding someone else. What happened in that apartment I can imagine won’t easily happen anywhere else. That space is blessed…or cursed depending on your point of reference.

Nah, I’ll just give her a few days…she will come to her senses, besides…who am I going to talk to about all of this. My family is so opposed to any talk of anything paranormal. The only one who was slightly inclined to believe me was my grandfather and he was not alive anymore, and boiled everything down to death anyway….you had a weird dream….death. you saw a black cat…death. you thought of a deceased love one…death. it became the running joke in our family.

The phone starts vibrating on the side table. It gives me such a shock considering the day I’ve had.

It’s Mariam.

“Hello Mar…”

“Hi, yes..if you could get your butt back to my apartment. ..that’ll be great”

I can sense her irritation but I can’t help but smile. She is funny. And I get to go back and not sit alone anymore…I jump out of bed as she speaks.

I ask her what’s wrong,but she just insists that I leave as soon as I can.

Not needing a second invitation I drop the phone on my bed as soon as she hangs up as I stumble in the dark for my jeans.

I’ll have to grab a cab this time of night. I’m so excited I leave my home barefoot and have go back for them.

I’ve left a note for my family.  Not the best move.but I have to do this…I have to see him again. I knew it was more than just a dream.

 

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The Journey.Chapter 2. Apartment 201

Continued.short story

 

 

Isn’t  it funny how time doesn’t seem to exist when you are anxious or excited about something. It either flies by or grinds to a halt. Time can’t be real if the feeling of measurement can be distorted by our emotions. ..I mean how can a whole day come and go in a blink of and eye.

I’m standing in front of apartment 201 and I’m frozen. I can’t remember the train ride in or the walk over. Did I eat today, I really can’t remember.

I’ve played out a couple of scenarios. I’m convinced  This woman is going to take me for a ride and I’m going to feel like a fool. But I’m doing this. I’m here.

“So are ya gonna knock or what. How gifted do ya think she is?”

A woman shifts on the shadowy stairs case. Only then do I get the wiff  of her cigarette. It smells so good.

I turn around but don’t respond, embarrassed that she has seen me standing there the whole time so focused on nothing, not even noticing her.

“I’m just kiddin. Come on, let’s go in” she pinched of the cherry and pushed the cigarette stub into the match box.

She bounces up and in a swoop opens the door for me…we stand in silence and stare at each other.

“Well come on!”

All of a sudden the adrenaline pumps in me and I walk into apartment 201.

There are no typical psychic trade marks in her flat..everything is quite normal. I feel disappointed.i was hoping for elaborate talisman and paintings maybe even some incense.

“Gimme a minute, I’m gonna set us up a table by the window”

I stood and watched her. She didn’t look at all psychic or clairvoyant, jeans and a tshirt that said New York on it.

She motioned for me to join her at the table, I sat down and she stood behind me with her hands on my shoulders. .she stood there until I looked up at her. She closed her eyes and started chanting. Her hands softly but quickly shook my shoulders,the chanting got louder and more animated,the shaking more vigorous. ..oh good Lord what have I gotten myself into!

She  burst out laughing and dropped her hands from my shoulders. She laughed even louder when she saw my confused look.

She plopped herself into the chair across the table, struggling to compose herself

“Dont worry.thats not how it works. Tea?”

Mariam from apartment 201 Herman Manor is batshit crazy!

I think I’m in the right place.

 

 

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The Journey. Chapter 1. The dream

short story. 

 

My father died a few years ago.

I struggle to remember everything about him. But I try.

His laugh and the way he pulled his nose when he was mad. How he would con me into making him tomatoe and chilli salads late at night.

Mostly I just remember the pain he experienced those last few months of his life,the cancerous growth from his side that changed his once Ares type physique into a hobbit like creature. The wailing and crying at night…

I remember the last time I saw him, in hospice. He asked me not to leave, but it was getting late and my 3 year old was getting fussy..I told myself and him I would come early the next morning. ..he died at 2 am. ..the hospice called my mother…she called me.Guilt.

It didn’t feel real at first. It felt as if I was looking at him sleeping. The nurses had tucked him in and put a flower on his chest. We just sat around his bed staring at him,taking turns to smoke outside as if we couldn’t leave him alone in the room. In hindsight that was me in shock.

The real pain came later. Like flash floods of emotions sweeping you off your feet with a jolt. Still now all these years later I have quiet moments in the dark where my tears pour down my face, where the fact that I can’t call on him is unbearable.

So last night I had a dream about him. I have dreamt of him before, but last night …in my dream, he was alive! And it was unsettling to wake up to a steadfast reality.

But it felt so real. He showed me his wound, I even remember touching the shiny stretched skin of the growth. He smiled at me , we walked together. He led me to a building. ..and that’s where it ended,the two of us in a building.

I can’t think of anything else today but this dream. I can’t help but wonder if it was just a dream or if it was something more. It felt like something more.

Is he trying to communicate with me? I mean it was vivid…I could feel his skin…I swear I could smell him.

I have never been shy of anything paranormal…the unexplained, fate ,clairvoyants, prophecy all have place on my shelf.But here I am , considering for the first time if I should find a way to communicate back.

Is finding him a journey I wish to embark on. All the things that could go wrong, I could end up in the tabloids as “that silly girl who wouldn’t  leave well enough alone” but what about the small chance that all of this is true and I can find him somewhere in that space between here and there.

The universe sent me an answer in the form of a pamphlet that read:

 

“Talk to deceased loved ones

Miss Mariam

Call for appointment : 555 … (a watermark had blurred the rest of the number)

Open 9-3. Monday to Friday

Apartment 201 Herman Manor, Bronx

 

The coincidences keep piling up. My father’s name was Herman.

 

 

 

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Stay at home mom wanted : Must be able to multitask and work under pressure.

Why is it frowned upon to be a stay at home mom. Why do women find things to judge each other on.#sigh

Women ask me when I’m going back to work or if i’m bored.

I am always blown away by this question because it feels as if these women are judging me and pitying me…its really strange because I pity women who have to leave their babies with carers and go back to work. I never judge these women, in fact I think they are superheroes, and I do realize that their judgement of me could possible be a bit of jealousy. Who knows, they could also really just think I’m lazy and sit on my ass all day eating cupcakes.

Truth be told, if I had a stellar career I would have most probably pumped and gone back when my allotted time was up…but I was never one to hold a career…I’m hippie like that.

BUT

I work everyday…24 hours in fact. I don’t have down time or time away or weekends off.

I am never bored , not with the level of interaction I give my little human, or my other two aliens.

It is absolutely possible to feel content being at home .

In a world where nothing is free and life is expensive I am fully aware of how lucky I am to have a husband that can take the financial reigns for a while, this is not to say that this current situation will be the status-quo forever…but for now he brings home the bacon…and I get to do the fun stuff like cook , clean, nurse sick children, homework duty, listen to school dramas, laundry, make sure bins out on bin day (that reminds me) oh and yes…start a business. All in all being a stay at home mom must be one of the most difficult jobs I have ever had, but I’m good at it and the pay is awesome.

So yes, I have a 1-year-old, I’m still at home, I’m not bored, I get a lot done and I’m very happy and most importantly so is my baby.

This is me, make-up free with Barney on repeat (I could be doing a lot worse…I could be stuck in traffic)

 

 

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