Lost in a book store

I love to read.  It has not always been that way, however.  When I was learning to read I struggled with dyslexia so the letters and words changed sizes and danced on the pages.  It was hard to focus or follow along with the class.  Because I had trouble following the words I hated the sound of my voice in the reading circle because it stopped and started, sounding so unsure and constantly needing help from the teacher with the others in the circle snickering behind their books.  (I'm sure they did.)

Finally I gained some control of my difficulties sometime after junior high and began to read everything I could get my hands on.  It is still the same today.  I read fiction, non-fiction, history, biographies, poems, short stories, novels, novellas, cookbooks and self-help, magazines and newspapers.  I especially like new age, vampire stuff, ghost and haunting s, healing, spiritual and prayer information.  I don't like romance so much, it doesn't seem real to me anymore but . . . that's just me.

My favorite place is not the library, that seems too overwhelming and frustrating some how.  It is the book store.  Barnes and Nobles is the one close by.  I like to go there alone so I can roam the isles aimlessly.  I like to go there on a mission for some new book I heard about or the next novel in a series that I must have before I finish the current one.  But most importantly I like to go there when I am feeling stressed or panicky.

Probably sounds strange but it calms me.  I loose myself there.  I leave my head, all the stuff that is stressing me.  I breath in the energy of all those books.  Also the energy of all those present who have also lost themselves because we book lovers are mostly all alike.

So if I don't speak to you when you see me next week in that special place, I am not being rude, I am just not in my body, I am in the zone.

Life lived

As I lay awake last night I pondered on my life from the eyes of my children.  I remember when my dearest dad dropped his anchor a few years ago I felt that I had lost so much time failing to get to know how he came be  the honorable man he was.  My daughter, Samantha, loves to hear stories of my childhood as I recall them  but when my sons were growing up, I didn't think about how important that history is and I was very busy trying to be a good mom while working to help support the family.  Now Heath and Dane are grown men and making their own stories.  I wonder what would matter to them later when I am gone.  I wonder what they will remember of our life together.  What has the life I have lived and am living told them about me and about survival or about the world as a whole?  At the same time, I love to see the kids all together as they talk about "the good old days".  They laugh at each other as they share their version of what ever the story is of their childhood antics.  It brings me great joy to see they are good friends and pray they continue to love and know each other.  And I pray that I have been a joy to them.

Fall Season of my Body

Lunablossom shared with us her musings of her moving from Mother to Crone with the surgical change of her body.  It is appropriate she has done this now as I have been thinking and in fact struggling with my own changes.  I also had to have a surgical transition from Mother to Crone a few years ago and at first I pondered at how I did not feel any differently.  I reasoned, at the time, that it was because I still have a  child at home. 

Now as my daughter, the last still in the nest, moves from the child to the Maiden I find myself mourning the loss of my young, hungry and nubile body of Venus.  I look in the mirror and don't recognize the woman I see there.  I wonder if other strong women feel the same loss with this transition from Mother to Crone. 

I have supposed I should try to become more familiar with the Crone Goddess.  Maybe with this added understanding I would be better able to emotionally embrace the softer curves of myself.

Trick or Treat

This week of Halloween causes me to take a look back at my childhood. We were a poor family that worked hard for everything. I didn't know we were poor, I just thought that everyone worked before school, went to school and worked after school until dark. If memory serves me right, we never had after school work to do on Halloween. My two younger sisters and I would walk home from school with that excitement of costumes and going door to door of the people our parents knew and getting lots of goodies that we rarely enjoyed during the year.

Our costumes were always simple and home made. I think I have been a witch most years. Terri, 18 months younger than me usually went as a princess and Robin, 4 years younger, went as a ghost or what ever was available.

Some houses would be a simple knock on the door. "Trick or Treat!!" we would shout in unison followed by the adults behind the door oohing and ahing over our costumes and joking with my parents. Then we would get homemade popcorn balls or candy apples or bags of peanuts and the occasional candy bar or sucker. But some houses had a required trick from us before the treat would be given. I quickly learned that the purpose of the trick is for adult entertainment so since I was a very shy child then I figured that the sooner my act was done and the louder the adults laughed the sooner we got our treats and we could go on to the next house.

So this particular year, I had to be around 6 and my sister just turned 5, accompanied my dad to the next door neighbors house. Mr and Mrs Turentine were very excited to see us. I could see the large bowl next to the door with individually wrapped caramel candies(my favorites) and my mouth started salivating. This was the first house so I had not even remembered yet about tricks so imagine my surprise when Mr. Turentine said that I had to do a trick before getting any treats. I could not think of a thing so Mrs. Turentine said I had to act like a spider and my sister, Terri had to be a lamb. So she gets down on all fours and starts bleating. The adults start giggling and I was frantically trying to think how to look like a spider. I finally figured it out! I lay down on my back and formed myself into a back bend. Dad laughed very loudly saying look she is a spider. I was very pleased with the laughter so I suddenly let my hands and feet fly out landing flat on my back, black sheet cap all around me, hat has flown off, my long hair is everywhere. All the adults become quiet instantly thinking I had fallen and was possibly injured. As parents, they were waiting for my childish cry but what they got was "This is the spider momma killed!" After the roar of laughter stopped, I got two hands full of caramels.