Friday, June 25, 2010

watching "wrastling" with Ma

So I am over at Mom's watching some WWE action and it is quite the show when this sweet little lady is shouting "BITE HIM! RIP OUT HIS GUTS! POW!"

Yeah, Ma likes a good brawl.

It's been a rough couple of days with the work going on at the house. Contractors coming and going, the job we thought would take a week is turning more into two weeks. The sooner they are done, the sooner things can move forward.

You know, as tough as things are for my Mom, she still cares tons about her full grown kids. I try to rein her in when she gets too anxious about stuff. I remind her that me and my sisters must look out for ourselves and we will be okay, but she worries.

Like the other day when she called me up at work to tell me she was proud of me. She knew I was in a black mood the past few days.

Some folks might call us overly sentimental and such, but if you are going to make a fuss about anything it should be your family, dammit!

And sometimes you need family to catch you when you get some foolishness in your head. :-) I made a promise a while back not to put the family through that mess that went down a few years ago (they and a handful of others know what I mean) and I am sticking to it. Just gotta keep on trucking, tackling the tasks at hand.

So I will keep watching wrastling with Ma on Friday nights, talk gossip about folks, and laugh like fools. That's better medicine than you can find in bottle or yammering away on a therapist's couch.


The First Book of James said...

Good stuff, Ace. I'm getting to really appreciate my family more and more and relish getting to spend 3 or so days out of the week with them over the past couple months.

acereporter73 said...

That's good to hear. Can't take our people for granted especially as we build our own lives.

I've known folks who talk real big about their family ties but fall short of maintaining healthy connections.

Keep the people who unconditionally care about us close. That's what makes your day.

Flame and Bone

When I was made from fire
Poured into the tender vessel of caution
That keeps my smoke from rising
Quickly did I discover that apart from crisp drizzles or falling snow
The world chilled my touched
Walking the narrow cornered gap between girders and cut stone
One learns to tuck his shoulders in or risk
Jostling a neighbor passing by rapt with want
For a clear path without the distraction
Of another man's boiling eyes
The tip of a finger
That oldest of all weapons
Grown deadlier and pristine in its invention
Gathers a mote of a cinder on its bare flesh
And turns pondering how best to scratch the impious itch
Prying open the tender seam
Where the oil of thought dews
Offering a new wick to ignite
Squirming alive as a salamander of mischief
That yearns for a taste of air it is so ready to devour
The steam of breath betrays me
Before the glint of orange spreads
In popping bright waves
Eroding the fibers feeding it
Leaving naught but ash
As my shell of quietude falls away