When She Cometh

You are just dropped in to a dream, willy nilly, Act I: Scene 1, with cameras rolling.

I found myself in my childhood primary, middle and high school…all one building… in the day….at least for country folks….

I was standing in the hall, first floor, books in my arms, wearing a plaid skirt and ban-lon twin sweater set, carrying school books. I noticed the walls, the lockers, everything was painted a light grey green and my heart went out to the Janitor…I saw lots of scuff marks in his future. The floors were highly polished, like ready for a new school year….but everything was eerily quiet, rather than the buzz of whisper, muffled laughter, movement of students…I was standing by the Gym door so could see through the glass door Entrance the teachers used that showed the street lights were on through the glass….it was night. What was I doing, at school, at night…by myself?

Shining floor, deserted hallways. Where do you go from here?
From Morguefile.com
IMG_2999.JPGBy ArielleJay

I turned my gaze to look across the hall. There I saw one of my older sisters, the Queen, in a slim navy skirt, long sleeved white blouse…looked like a uniform, talking to a dark brown haired male, who had his back to me. It seemed like a general what-ya-doing-next-weekend conversation. They were both what I would call student age, also books in arms…like they fit the scenario.

When I turned my head, I saw my other three other sisters …they were no longer in their youth, definitely past student age, maybe their 30’s, all in colorful dresses…but their discussion felt like it was about me…I shoulda, coulda, woulda, the kind of talk sisters engage in that have no answers and no solutions…and they were all older than me…and they were all correct, I shoulda, coulda, woulda but I didn’t… so I was not interested in joining in the parsing…My Itty Bitty RIP Baby Sister would understand…She always had my back.

My 4 sisters and brother that disappeared before my unbelieving eyes….in their younger years.

I turned back to my sister, the Queen, who was with the male student, called her name and they both turned…I then realized…it was my brother. Just as I took a step towards them, they transformed, before my eyes into air bubbles, and dissipated in to the hallowed halls…huh???

Okay, I’ll go talk to my other three sister, tell what I just experienced. Once again, 1^st step forward, they turned to look at me, then also transformed, before my eyes into air bubbles, and dissipated in to the hallowed halls.

I could hear, but not see, sneakers slapping the hallway floors, (nor could I see the person wearing them), pounding past me, as if his life depended on it. I called out to him, the Unknown, ‘Did you see where my family went?’ He replied… ‘Right past you, in the Gym.’

I had apparently reached the Twilight Zone…I could no longer believe what my eyes revealed. Not convinced that I missed five family members, I never the less took the advice of the Unknown and went in to the gym…but it was empty…no one, nothing, nowhere, anywhere. I slowly turned round and round in circles…had I missed something… and there was a short fat Christmas tree covered in multi colored strings of lights, twinkling, casting rainbows on the garland, ropes and Christmas balls.

Could my family be teasing me, hiding under the tree…I mean, I am no engineer or magician, but how could 5 people hide under, in, through that tree?

Gamely I got on all fours and looked but saw no feet … instead I spied what looked be a three foot Clown Roly Poly weaving round and round as it made its way to the front of the tree. I instinctively put my hand under to haul out the Roly Poly for a better look and in a flash I was grabbed firmly with what seemed to be short flappy wings, hauling me under the tree, out of site… Gone.Baby.Gone.

And for the first time since her passing, I heard my Itty Bitty RIP Baby Sister’s voice…very firm…in charge…the boss…(like I had been to her), ‘Come on, Quite Contrary, we got to go,’ …’What…what about all of the rest of our siblings?’. In the same voice my Itty Bitty RIP Baby Sister replied… ‘It’s not their time yet.’ Over and Out. Buh Bye, World… Buh Bye. The End.

I’m awake. Inevitable questions pop into my mind:

Where was RIP Daddy and my Mother-and-Father-God-Rest-Their-Souls….Were they giving the my Itty Bitty RIP Baby Sister Baby-of-the-Family bragging rights…first big catch since death-did-us-part?

Why our school setting…maybe because it is where we went to laugh, seek fairness, learn and gain understanding about the world around us.

Why Christmas? You have to understand…. my Itty Bitty RIP Baby Sister loved all things Christmas. The love, family, friends, food, joy ….the mystery of what was wrapped so prettily under the tree, all to be revealed in good time. Did the whole idea of a Christmas tree introduce the light I would ascend to …. that it would be no more frightening than a glowing Christmas tree, with gifts abounding like the amusing childlike Roly Poly….but hey folks, end of day…it’s just a dream…..

So sit back and enjoy the ride. And Rule #1: You come when called… Now you see them…Now you don’t…. Over and Out. …And I was outta there.

God is Good. God is Good

Night Falls

The Road to some where, or no where…Fr: Morgue files.

The uneasiness of not knowing the road…On which we travel…Wraps around us like a long, black cloak…

Looking in my eyes, you see fear…Of the Unknown…Haunting our present, overshadowing our future…

Night Time Is The Right Time.
From Morguefile.com
IMG_0522.jpgBy wallenberg

Awakened in the night, by creaking floorboards…I ponder the odds…And face a grim reality of failure…

But when the morning sun bathes…The world in splendor…All troubles are on hold, till night falls again…

Our House…..

Houses…homes…all with a different vibe…but all with the same Call to Arms… Before the first spade hits the dirt, before the basement cement poured, the first brick laid…your home has an innate, unspoken sense…. That what goes on between the walls…Stays within these walls….

Not at all like trees, whose roots reach out, tickle, entwine the trees surrounding them, while branches stretch forth, their leaves touching, softly caressing each other… be it oak, birch, or chestnut … giggling, sharing secrets of what they heard as they efficiently pass on things that were, that are and will be…

Houses…homes…not so much. Secrets stay within the walls…only spilled out if the Two Footed Owners talk or it is such a grievous vexation (like blood is spilled) so the local constabulary is called to sort out the melee, surround the crime scene with yellow yellow and black tape that innocently flutters in the wind. Law enforcement then gather the evidence, speak for the victims and haul off the perpetrators… (if they can find them). Otherwise, those squeaky clean, church going next door neighbors are as much of a mystery to you as your own kids are to you…when the hormones kick in…

Of course, if your lot in life is to live in an apartment or a condo, you may hear raised voices, see shady individuals hanging around…giving you a clue…that maybe…just maybe, your neighbors who nod, friendly like, and live in said dwelling may be battling demons…but still, please God, I have a full time job…I have to sleep to survive, let there be peace…at least tonight.

In the suburbs…where the lawns are all green and trimmed, the flowers shout hello to you as you pass by, the homes are all made out of ticky-tacky and all look just the same, it is indeed surprising to know that family with that over-achieving child, who gets straight A’s, makes the Football or Cheerleading Squad, and is on the way to a full scholarship at a prestigious university (well, according to their parents)….. is actually also a Meth Head…got in with a bad crowd, they claim….makes your own kids still look…although confirmed underachievers (say the teachers, but what do they know?), decidedly more appealing.

Meanwhile, off in the country, where everyone knows everything that happened to everyone for the past five or six generations (or so they think …but they are not judging anyone…uh, right!), there is a different dichotomy. In between your farmhouse with the pastures of cows, sheep, horses, and that gleaming manor on the hill, overlooking the stream that flows into the river, will be a ramshackle, abandoned homestead, where the youth hold all-night-long binges, much to the chagrin of the landowners who resent ATV’s crushing their crops, cruising their manicured lawns, noisily causing mayhem. Where is that peace that the owners thought the countryside would deliver????

And so inside the walls of the homes that house the Condo/Apartment Dwellers, the Suburbanites, the Farmers, the To-the-Manor-Born, the Belligerent Youth, there are secrets, tension, pain that breed contempt ….yet still, your home is your castle, be it humble, middle class or grand, your touchstone in times of trouble or joy…where you return to in your thoughts and nightly dreams…For better or worse, it cradles you, keeping secrets close…only known by those who traveled the same road…felt the blows and raised above them..

Who knew, Smart Homes were coming, who knew…locking and unlocking your doors, turning off and on your lights, spying on your nanny or even your children and spouse…

Now, will someone please step up and create the Happy Home App?We’re waiting…..

In Dreams We Walk With You

Momma says…and she is a self proclaimed expert…that she still talks to RIP Daddy every day…..and Holy Smokes…she says he answers her…. It seems, although absent in body, RIP Daddy is active in spirit…and well, I believe so many things so why not that?

That is RIP Daddy, pic captured by WonderBoy

Yes, RIP Daddy, flits around the garden on butterfly wings, gliding silently but majestically, guiding Momma to the parts of the garden that need weeding, trimming, dividing. I’ve seen them myself, out of the corner of my eye, dive bombing the stately flower petals with the speed of a fighter jet, swooping and diving, here one minute, gone the next….You don’t get conversation out of those transactions , just POL (Proof of Life) wherever it may be, whatever form it takes….

No, the talking part comes when Momma is sorting through RIP Daddy’s earthly possession, as she asks him what does he want her to do with his…example: collection of Tonka Trucks…..right away he answers …keep them for WonderBoy’s son….and Momma is sore confused because…well, there are no babies in the foreseeable future, but hey, if you have any influence, RIP Daddy, could you get the process jump started, ya think?

Mostly though ‘In Dreams We Talk to You’…such routine conversations about some past client’s cute little dog, (talk about me RIP Daddy….I Am the Greatest…not someone else’s little dog) or the sweet little kid you met up with, or the latest inexplicable thing that happened in the world…or the US, now that Trump is Leader of the Not So Longer Free World.

Maple Leaf Fans…always left standing at the alter…:(

And …‘how about them Leafs?’ ….this is their year, for sure…darn straight…Momma says you look alike, you sound alike, you’re just more spiritual than physical….But RIP Daddy is busy because he hovers over WonderBoy, invading his dreams, sending sometimes comforting, sometimes incomprehensible messages.

Keep at it RIP Daddy….maybe Momma, Wonder Boy and me, the Jakita will attain better comprehension skills….because:

In dreams we walk with you, in dreams we talk to you…
In dreams you’re ours, all of the time…We’re together in dreams, in dreams….

Your Truth Had to Be Told

So you confronted the world….With your Truth…That had to be told…We said you were lying…Inside we were dying…You were riding bareback…Yet we took the fall….

Now we’ve put ourselves…Back together and decided…We could never trust you again…No use pretending…You’re in the running…You flubbed the baton…Live with your results….

Go back to your mirror…And tell it…You got this…The truth had to be told…I doubt that your new friends…Know what truth means …So sorry, it’s over…. But you chose ‘The End’.

Keep Me Travelling Along With You

Getting old sucks…just ask Momma…. or not…seems to me she has taken the Fifth…won’t admit to anyone but I see her…she kind of walk stumbles, stops, starts, like me…her knees are so yesterday, her muscles shot.

After all I am the Brainiac Andy Cat…I see all and know all…and try to make sense of it but it is getting harder to evaluate and categorize, as the world performs a blurry out-of-control corkscrew spin…And Momma says you just have to turn on your TV to understand why…all you hear about is Americans Behaving Badly…oh, and Canadians too…every chance you give them.

So what’s a cat to do? Look menacing, even as you move slowly, pause at every chance to be petted by Momma and Wonder Boy…because that is written in the contract….something about ‘food and love on demand’…well, if it isn’t in the contract, it should be…and adjust my routine.

No more terrorizing the neighbour hood…If those Forest Freaks want to rumble, they will have to seek me out on my own property and then I’ll have them charged with Trespassing…If they still are a nuisance I’ll call The Pet Control Mobile and off they will go to swank accommodations that Momma helps fund. Maybe they won’t be so cranky when they get their Three Square Meals a day….

Yes, you’ll find me on my property…the furthest I go is to find shade in the peony bushes, then it’s back to sun tanning on the bench by the side door…or when it is too hot, I seek shade under the bench… so when Momma comes out, I can sneak in and eat my three mouthful of kibbles (four, if I’m really hungry).

Still, most of the time you’ll find me inside, rolled up in a chair, head trying to touch toes, as I dream of chasing butterflies through golden grain fields…it’s a good life….so Charlie Cat, don’t let me find you, freaking me awake, standing with your paws on the side of the couch, your double-ringed green eyes casting your woe-be-gone stare in mine as if to say, ‘who gave you permission to be here?’ Of course I go into attack mode, and Charlie is so bewildered and traumatized…and you guessed it, Momma lays the blame on me…because Charlie is high strung…but I am unpredictable. No worries. Momma has a very forgiving heart…all water under the bridge in no time. Could I just go back to sleep, please?

So it is no better and not worse, then when I was young… There is a certain peace and joy knowing that I won’t have my paw bit or my eyes tattered by well, let’s say…they live among us….but Momma, please, don’t let those types of guests in our front door…so it’s all good, as long as I walk slow, breath, pause, get petted…

And it’s one more step down the road I go…. One more step along the world I go….From the old things to the new….keep me traveling along with you. (Paraphrase Sydney Carter)

You May Be Right….I May Be Wrong

Former FLOTUS, Former FLOTUS, Former FLOTUS…even North of the 49^th Parallel, we are hearing rumors….that you may be considering….running for Leadership in the upcoming Roller Derby Party Race. Why? Why? Why? How many times must the mule kick you before you concede, well. some people at large…. they just don’t trust you?

Oh, don’t be hurt, Former FLOTUS…no one trusts anyone anymore. You and your Spouse, the Former POTUS have sharp minds, but too much well, dirty laundry….Wall Street Executives will pay dearly to hear you or him speak, press the flesh, so to say…putting their hand over the one side of their mouth, whispering in your ear…

‘Go for it, Former FLOTUS’…then they deftly cup hand to the other side of mouth and say to their colleagues… with a smirk,… ‘Is she freaking suicidal????’ But ignore them…. Because, well, you forgot more about politics than they’ll ever know…and you are no one trick pony…a savvy lawyer, a fearsome politician, a roll with the punches spouse, mother, grandmother and of course, a much admired Former FLOTUS…but please…do yourself a solid…. don’t run for POTUS…..

Not that I think you deserve all the criticism leveled at you, Former FLOTUS…you’ve made mistakes…but everyone does… (Even me, but not many…and not on the grand scale that you manage…LOL). It is just I just feel so on edge when you throw your hat in, first to be chewed up by the Right…it is their duty, then by the left…it is Bernie’s duty…

Look closely…a dragon peeks out of the flames. Morguefile
By: GaborfromHungary

And finally by the current Fire Breathing Dragon, the current POTUS, who is never fact based, but has Super Powers to turn constituents brain in to mush…so that they actually vote for him…and say…woe is me…a lot. But I try not judge them too harshly…

No judgement on our behalf….Here on the other side of the Invisible Wall, (phew), our brains must be scrambled too….didn’t the majority vote in a Tea Party Right Premier Dad, who had a brother that was the Mayor of our largest city. That Mayor kept the journalists and the City Council busy with his partying and poor life style choices…now RIP Mayor…Caught In the Act every time with his booze, hookahs and low life companions…somehow even then, he was more likable than his Premier Brother. We can’t blame them…from one of those blue blood lines, that were born with silver spoons…seems to mix kids up…not bring them up.

So I am tuned in, trying to get this message to you from a Centrist who believes even though you play the tough take it all routine, you’re fragile…don’t let that Mule and Fire Breathing Dragon deflate you, like a balloon losing air, in tiny increments again…From this side of the under privileged world we live in…being President is not all it has been made out to be…. just ask The Fire Breathing Dragon Quack!

End of day…don’t listen to me…go where your ♥ dictates…what-do-I-know??? But not only you hurt when you are trashed, (just cuz they can)…then lose… so does your loyal supportive Former POTUS spouse, your family, friends and all of your true supporters, who truly care for your well-being.

Then again, You may be right…I may be wrong …It just may be that stress is what you’re looking for…. 🙂

Cover of the Rolling Stone

BFF Gen and Jakita – always conspiring,,,,.

Well, we’re talented singers…
We’ve got golden fingers…
And we’re loved everywhere we go… (That sounds like us…)….
We meow about beauty…
And we woof about truth….
So the Two Footed love us so…

Jakita tells a spellbound Gen about life.

We never stand still…
Chasing bad guys gives us thrills…
But the thrill we’ve never known…
Is the thrill that’ll get ya…
When you get your picture…
On the cover of the Rolling Stone…

(Rolling Stone) Wanna see my picture on the cover….
(Stone) Wanna buy five copies for my Momma (I want one!)…
(Stone) Wanna see my smilin’ face
On the cover of the Rolling Stone

(Paraphrased: RIP Ray Sawyer)

I Guess

I guess they they couldn’t…

See her die… Inch by inch…..

I guess they couldn’t…

Hear him cry… For help….

I guess …. They cared…

But couldn’t see… The End….

Me too….I GUESS….

Calling All Angels

Notice Papa Teddy is carefully watching RIP Daddy hold his puppies while there Mama looks in the other direction.

Once upon a time…a long time ago…there was only one Angel Dog in our Family….You know, American Eskimo Angel Dog Edward Bear Spinner….also known as Teddy.

When Momma went on and on and on some more, about how Teddy had never done anything wrong in his life….well, maybe he did one thing…he nipped Momma the first time she groomed him….oh and then there was the time he stole Momma’s guard for her bottom teeth….only, Momma shared some of the blame…she had left it out on her night stand…so, couldn’t really count that one, Momma said.

As you can imagine, my eyes went round and round and round in my sockets, a look of disbelief and maybe even jealousy on my usually sanctimonious face….but as Loretta Lynn sang….they don’t make ‘em like our Teddy anymore….

And so it was a complete shock the other day when Momma leaned down and whispered in my ear the other day that I am her Angel Puppy. What…say what…when did I earn my wings…am I on the other side without remembering the journey?

Seeing the puzzlement on my countenance…could have been my open mouth or… maybe my eyes begging, ….like…for real …Momma explained…

Teddy would always be her Angel Dog….but I am, I am…her Angel Puppy…because 1) I am smaller; 2) like any puppy, I am still in training…for the Angel part that is…. because sometimes I pull when I should heel and get hyper when I should just ‘let go and let God’….3) on occasion, I can be sneaky, digging craters in out of site areas BUT other than that….

I am perfect…Momma said so…I even have some remarkable and lovable qualities that AngelDog Teddy never achieved…for instance…Teddy abided others but was devoted only to Momma….Not me…I have special relationships with all worthy kind hearted Two or Four Footed Creature…I am not like Teddy, feeling superior to cats, well, because they are cats. I discipline, protect and love those cats if their very existence depended on me.

Agreed, Angel Dog Teddy was perfectly disciplined and obedient but where was the deep abiding love to envelope all of God’s creatures…not just Momma, because she rescued him from that God forsaken puppy mill, where survival was not a given…

I‘m still pinching myself that Momma says I am her Angel Puppy….yeah, yeah, yeah…I still have a few areas of improvement to attend to and I am on it…so on it but an Angel Puppy…who knew?

Now is there some secret to keep my Angel wings in place???? Calling all Angels. Any suggestions?

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

I guess they they couldn’t…

See her die… Inch by inch…..

I guess they couldn’t…

Hear him cry… For help….

I guess …. They cared…

But couldn’t see… The End….

Me too….I GUESS….

Share this: