Lyricism in Dallas, Redux

Grilling weenies and burger chops
on butternut-coated petrified rocks
to give it that sweet sweet flava that you sava.
Catch the oozy yum from that.

Beautiful boy, point to the stars
and whisper reassurance in my ear.
My smile it reaches wide and high,
Pull back – I’m a prism light refraction in your eye
and that made my smile make me sigh.

Back on my own, my queendom
resurrected, new beginnings
and sultry weather.
I’m curiosity now,
Unabashedly
Weaving my web after one or two drinks.

I’m a femme fatale façade.
Got a heart stitched up from pieces.
You wandered to my side and charmed me with your jive,
Put on quite a show.
But at the end of the day,
You was just a gypsy gigolo.

Silly boy, silly girl,
Stack ‘em up now that house of cards of wonder.
Creamy milk sugar daddy,
I can’t take that glucose high,
You curious why?

Test my water,
Swish it ‘round.
Ripples roaring, makes your head pound from the sound of
Dallas dams exploding.
Flood the bulldozed flattened
Land of the Cowboy man and step aside, gentle
sprinkles on your eyes as
Niagra rushes by.

I’ve kicked the clutch and notched it down,
A step, then two, then three.
Endorphins no longer reality
But in actuality
This ain’t the last of what is me.

Family

As Mom and I sat in the waiting room for Dad to come out of his second spinal surgery, I realized I hadn’t prepared myself at all for the risks that were involved. Partially because I still see Dad as invincible and partially because I just can’t allow my mind to go there. Even for a younger person, two spinal surgeries within two months is high risk. But it was necessary. So when the doctor asked our permission to say a prayer before the first surgery, we gratefully said yes. And the prayer that he gave was so sincere and beautiful that it brought me and my mom to tears. He did the same thing before the operation this morning. Five hours later, when he came into the waiting room and told us he was finished and Dad was fine, Mom and I could hardly believe it was finally over – months of worrying and praying and trying not to think about the possibility of losing him, had come to an end.

As I drove home, I started crying and couldn’t stop. Knowing that he had been spared paralysis or worse by the grace of God, realizing that, for the twilight of his life, he wouldn’t have to suffer the pain that had plagued him for years – I can’t even express the gratitude that I’m feeling. And just like he did after his first operation, even though the anesthetics hadn’t worn off, he asked if Mom and I had eaten yet. No matter what he’s going through, he’s always looking after us first.

Throughout this ordeal, I’ve thought about how Dad was the strength, balance and pillar of our family. I thought about how he always put the happiness of me and my mom first, and never made any selfish decisions that would negatively impact us. How his nature was sweet and caring, but if someone dishonored my mom or me in any way, his fighting Army sergeant side would come out. I remember how he would send me long, lecturing emails when I was doing something in my life that worried him, and hurting from the harsh words he would use or the judgment he would pass on me. But I think back now and realize that, even though he may not have always used the most loving words, he did everything he could to protect me and Mom from the brutal realities of life, and to keep me from making foolish decisions.

I remember the decisions I had made that left them hurt, disappointed and worried. They didn’t swoop in and rescue me from every mess I got in, instead allowing me to learn the hard way so I could grow the hell up. But they did lift me back to my feet during those times when they knew I really needed them.

I know eventually I will lose both of them, but I’m trying to redeem myself for breaking their hearts so many times throughout my life. And I haven’t made up enough ground yet.

I’ve also realized that I hardly ever tell them I love them – it’s something I have a very difficult time saying to anyone, but it’s something that family should hear regularly. And not just hear, but feel. We all want to think that we don’t take our families for granted, but how often do we take the time to show them how much they mean to us, and how much we appreciate having them in our lives?

With parents, it seems that the smallest things make them happy. Going to church with them every once in a while, coming home for dinner on a dependable night, sitting and talking with them, doing chores that are easy for you but difficult for them. They don’t ask for much, but they give their entire lives to you, making quiet sacrifices every day in order to make your life better.

I’m ending the night with a heart filled with gratitude, love, hope, happiness… faith.