A Penny for your Thoughts?
Are we free?
I am but a dollar
of countless to be paid;
so they save and raise my value
only for the rainy days.
If I share with you some of my thoughts,
in turn, will you give me change?
Or am I simply a hundred pennies
for you to spend on a parade?
Just how much will it take
to finally turn the page?
To buy more precious time
and utilize the lights and stage?
Let me be your prophet,
or your profit,
it’s all the same.
Dormant be the thoughts that
could move mountains
or sink ships;
wasting the breath of my potential
all for political gain.
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Oh, Daddy
I can hardly remember my dad for who he was prior to the stroke because we became so much closer in the aftermath. In an instant, he became the dad who would stare at you blankly as he forgot mundane things, had trouble communicating, and couldn’t even tend to his own bathroom needs. So in other words: he was adorable! Once a man, twice a child, as they say, and he was the cutest man-baby, ever! Especially when he would laugh. I sincerely wish that you could have heard it. It sounded like he was sobbing happily whenever he would chuckle and his entire body would shake with uncontrollable mirth. He only had a couple teeth left so his mouth would hang open slightly with a big, gummy smile. And finally with wet eyes, he would sputter at us like we were the craziest children he’s ever seen. He would know since he raised and got to know all 15 of us! However, no matter how absurd he thought we were, he always wanted us around. Whenever some of us would leave the house, he would call out our names, ask for us, name by name. And like I said, there are 15 of us so it was a feat to keep track! “Where is Mesha? When is she coming home?” He would wonder aloud. We would always have to assure him that we would be back soon to entertain him again! When I eventually moved away for some soul searching and to pursue life as an adult in a new city, he was vocal about how much he missed me. My mom would call me and tell me how he was always asking for me. Questioning when I would be back to visit. So whenever I was planning to visit, I would tell everyone to keep it a secret. I would come through the front door and walk into his room to find him sitting and staring off into the distance. The moment he would lay his eyes on me and hear my voice as I yell “Surprise”, his entire face and aura would transform with an excited grin, and I would feel warmed by his reaction each and every time. He could still recognize me! It made visiting feel so much more rewarding just to give him a special boost of happiness. It was during one night while I was visiting when my siblings and I sat around in the living room with my dad. He suddenly called out that he couldn’t hear anything. Alarmed and concerned, I asked him, “You can’t hear anything?” In response, he shook his head and said “No”. I started to giggle. “But daddy,” I began, barely able to contain myself. “How could you respond to what I just said if you can’t hear anything?” The sound that erupted from him in that moment, his barking laughter that shook the room, it was so infectious! Although he loved to laugh, I had never in all my years of life heard him laugh so authentically and freely. Soon we were all in stitches, hunched over and breathless from all the hilarity. This moment is engraved in my memory and the moment I think of still every time I think of him. It’s hard for me to recall what he was like before the stroke. All I can think of is that beautiful moment and sound he left with me before he passed. Laughter is something we always shared, and I will continue to laugh with him for the rest of my life in my memories, as well as in his memory.
By Mesha Bolton2 years ago in Families
About Writing
Most people talk about things that bother them as a way to vent their emotions, another way is through writing. As I sit writing in my car, I ponder how much writing, in itself, has helped me become the person I am today. I have endless amounts of pages filled with poems, stories, and sometimes random blurbs. Writing is a window into your soul. The simple action of writing has benefited me; by helping me to achieve a better memory, helping me to learn and grow intellectually, and helping me to communicate my emotions.
By Sarah Wilcox3 days ago in Journal
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