“there are a thousand communicable ways to talk love, there is not one fitting word to explain away empty.” – Jacqueline Cioffa
Loving yourself takes time. I didn’t know not exactly, not until this moment. I never believed brushing aside the possibility of happy. Tomorrow, tomorrow and tomorrow I’ll embrace the quirks and eccentrities. Tomorrow. Funny time wasted. Not funny. This end of April Sunday close to May, I stand at the fault line. Middle-aged. The compost pile is toppling from all the shit dumped over the years. I don’t know about you, maybe you were born over-confident.
“I have loved, laughed, cried, hurt, chose the empty life, until love finally found me a home.” – Jacqueline Cioffa THE VAST LANDSCAPE current Amazon Best Sellers Rank: Free in #KDPSelect #Kindle #1 Psychological #1 Sagas #3 Literary Sweet and Sassy, Informative and Inspiring, these eBook freebies are sure to entertain! http://t.co/tpfJLQFNAr pic.twitter.com/LeUp8jbo5H — Freebooksy (@Freebooksy) April 16, 2015
Do you believe in signs? I try. I want to. Some days they’re impossible to ignore. I have a funny kind of feeling we’ve been here, lived this place before. Maybe not in the same order, geography or circumstance. I don’t know, maybe not at all says the practical parts to me. I’m pretty sure we won’t remember. I’m quite certain the people I have loved deeply, who have loved me fiercely remain
Because it’s raining, and my mother sits in the kitchen with a pencil reading Georgia Pine., first edits. I reflect. Typing in my Zen room, deep in the world of Georgia Pine. I work fast, anxious to see how the story ends, intersects, everything comes to a close. (even I don’t know if they characters will veer left or right). I am melancholy. I will miss Harrison, and her descendants. For me, living in
I love GEORGIA PINE. I can’t wait to see how her story unravels. I love everything about her, crimson waves of strength, the direct extension of Harrison. Maybe, I did not want the The Vast Landscape to end, lost without my friend, daily companion, experience the death of someone too close. I needed a pause to reflect, the beautiful chaos that is Harrison. Families are strange, captivating complexities. I find human behavior both horrifying and
Xmas, 1970. Santa brought a white doll house, with a blue roof topped with a shiny, gold bow. Wooden furniture and a funny man with kind, hazel eyes smiling at me, full of pride. I was 2. How could I remember? How could I know, dare to imagine, how full of happy this man would make me. This oh so amazing, lightning bolt father of mine. How magical growing up in our family would be,