Christmas music and tears

Ice on the windows, frost on the air

Christmas music to bring tears

Missing those I love , gone a long time past

Those who  held  me when  I cried

Remembering  their love held tight inside

Alone  to pass  on a life time of love

 The smell of baking bread

Cinnamon rolls no nuts inside

For a little girl at her grandma's  side

 Grandpa  watching TV in black and white

That dark haired child  putting pin curls in his hair

"Is that good grandpa, see how pretty"

 Rides in the wheel barrow

Climbing the apple trees

Getting eggs with grandma

 Being loved when mom was not around

Grandma's perfect little girl

Waltzing  with grandpa  singing  along

A different time, a little house, a different era

My happiest time of life as a child

© Saroya Poirier   for Christmas  2013 

Babies and Stairs

 

Do you have a new baby? I have a suggestion from a experienced mom, now grandma tip for you that really works. Babies and stairs are a dangerous thing. But if you teach a almost but not quite crawling baby how to go down stairs safely you will have one less worry.  Gates are great, keeping doors shut if you have them good. But what if the gate or door is not secure?  They you get boom, scream and tears.

As your baby gets close to the up on all fours, the "I am moving stage", take the babe to the stairwell, put baby on tummy, feet facing steps.  Mom or dad then sits a couple steps down, gently pull baby's feet down one step, let the little person know to stay and not turn to sit.  Continue on down until you get to the bottom.  Start again.  Then you can let them go up the stairs with you coming  up behind them. I bet you are saying to yourself, I will never forget to shut the gate or door, I am a diligent mom..  Ah but someone else may forget or not check.

We have 13 steps to our lower level, steps that end on a linoleum (old)  covered cement floor hard and unforgiving.  While caring for my first grandchild I used this method to keep her safe, good thing too grandpa didn't always remember to shut the door at the top of the stairs.  When I would go downstairs I took her with me, walking ahead of her as she came down, just in case.

One evening I went looking for Merissa, couldn't find her, she was close to a year old, I called down the stairs, "is Merissa down there with you?" Yes was the answer. OK safe sound and it was the first time she did it on her own.  The next time I was ready, she was crawling down the hall and through the kitchen, I grabbed the camera, I had it running when she got to the top of the steps. With a big smile she backed down one step, looked at me and lifted her toes up, and slide half way down, stopped laughed and lifted her toes again and slide (carpeted stairs) the rest of the way.  Now if only I could get this video on the computer from the old super 8 camera you could see this.  It was a little scary to see her sliding not just backing down the steps. But basically that is what I had been doing when I taught her how to do it, only it was one step at a time not 6 at a time, that was her idea.    The ending to this, she never got hurt going down the stairs of our home.. 

Then there was the day she shut the door while she was on the stairs, I came in to see little fingers wiggling under the door, I looked through the window, told her to move down, and watched while she backed down far enough for me to open the door.  The door opens into the stairwell.   I had a exterior door installed with a large window so I could see the stairs before opening the door that way you didn't open the door on someone's face.  Comes in handy for pets too. 

 Saroya Poirier

Do Over

I want a do over
Begin again
I want to be loved
Have fun

A sense of humor like mine
Droll, ironic, risqué
Downright dirty

Practical impractical
Wishful hopeful
Dreamer dancer poet

Wild imaginationStories that live only in mind
That make me cry, laugh, desire

Things I imagine doing, Too shy to try
To stand in the rain, admire the stars
My heart is open to one who can see
Thrill at the wind in the trees

Can you see me?

 Saroya Poirier © November 17, 2013

 

Virgin or Version which word is it?

The year the Disney  real people movie with Glenn Close, 101 dalmations, came out, I asked Merissa if the other grandma had taken her to see it.  She said "I saw that virgin".  I said "version", she said, "virgin- version whats the difference?"  A little more back and forth with the word and it is going to be a learning experience.

She was 6 at the time. So now to figure out how to explain the difference and meanings of virgin and version.

So I started," if you don't bite or eat the apple, it is a virgin".  A questioning look on the child's face.  "A toy you never take out of the box is a virgin". She gives me that same puzzled expression. "People who don't have sex are virgins". My opening words here are, "Mommy and Daddy aren't virgins they had you".  Now she just looks all worried, "what happened, were they married, did he hurt her?" I answer, "no honey they loved each other but never married and no, Daddy didn't hurt your Mommy."

 "I still don't understand" she say. So I start " Great grandpa isn't a virgin", I said. "Ohhh she says with all the confidence of a 6 year old, "I know about Great Papa, he was married to your mom, and Aunt Annette's mom and Jan Jan". As matter of fact statement as you can get from a 6 year old. That not impressed at all kind of answer from her.

She looks at me "But I still don't understand".  At this point I am grasping at straws to find words she will understand. So I start, "Merissa, you are virgin because you never had sex and grandma isn't." The look on her face was priceless, incredulous, she says, " YOU HAD SEX"??????? the most shocked expression on her face, I never expected. Well, I said, how do you think I had mommy and uncle Dale? "NOT SEX" she says, her eyes got big ( she didn't really know what sex was yet), "don't say anymore," she holds her hand up in front of my face, "it's my fault" she says, "I asked,". She wouldn't look at me, wouldn't let me talk all the way home. If I tried to say something, UP went the hand in my face.  I tied not to laugh. I would start to say something, and there was that little hand... she is 24 now.   I wish I had a video camera that day.

No I am no a great writer, if I take a breath, I put a comma.... 

©Saroya Poirier          November 14, 2013

 

Eye Lashes

It is winter and when you live in a cool to cold place you don’t usually shave your legs every day, every week or heck not even every month. At least those of us ladies who aren’t wearing dresses to work. What would be the point, you are in sweatpants or pajama bottoms, sweatshirt, sweater, something warm and cozy.

 

Then there is the day you step into the tub or shower and scream in horror, “it must be a full  moon tonight”.  Yep the legs were that hairy today, long black hair, Woolf.  So as usual I start my bath with a good book, Anita Blake Vampire Hunter # 11 Cerulean Sins.  There is at least two hours of reading or more depending what I have to do today, tonight, the doctor visit tomorrow.  After I know that like it or not I must stop reading for now the book is set on the seat of the toilet out of splash range. I proceed to wash the hair on head, then the rest of me, wrap my hair in a towel  then sit on the edge of the tub.

 

I hear eerie music in my head, grab lotion slather it on one leg, then take razor in hand and go to work.  I don’t rinse the razor, I back slide it, leaving a little row of black hairs.  Right leg done now onto the left leg.  Looking down at my handy work, my little brain goes click, I say “Oh”?   “Look at that there are eyelashes on my thighs”, little empty eye spaces all over my thighs…  Think Obsidian Butterfly book # 9 in the Laurell K. Hamilton series Anita Blake..

Saroya Poirier @ October 1, 2013

On my 10th read though of the series

 

Sighing

I want to SCREAM
Just fucking SCREAM

I want to release the screams in my head

I want to scream until my throat is raw
Until there is no breath left to scream

Release from the pressure of the screams repressed in me

Unrelenting moaning swirling around in me

Body wrenching turmoil why what cause

I just want to it to go away, peace emotional peace

Leave me alone

Saroya Poirier © July 18, 2013

Leave

 Empty space

Empty room

Blessed silence

A low kenning

A soulful sound

Imagining self

Alone peaceful

Wrapped in loss

Unknown quantity

Pensive refrain

Tears pressing

Echoing screams

STOP just stop

No demands

No expectations

Hide in plain sight

Invisible

Go away

Leave just go

Saroya Poirier ©July 16, 2013

Wine and Tears

May 28,2013

Wine and Tears  

I am 65 years old, I have resolved nothing nor can I fix anything. There is no one to talk to that I would trust to understand or to help me understand.

I still care even after 40 plus years but it seems he did not. He said horrible things to me, wished me dead, threaten to put a bomb in my mail box.  I may not have always said the right thing but I was never mean about him.

I still love him, now, today, yesterday; forever will he be a part of my soul. 

I made mistakes I know that, but I was so young and didn't really understand anything, let alone how to make a relationship work.

I am sorry I hurt him, I am so very sorry and he will never know that now.

Alcohol makes me melancholy. I wish I could fix the past, and by doing so make this a better time, with better decisions. But I can’t, not a damn thing I can do about anything now.  So I will just for this little time, wallow in grief and regret.  Love lost, love destroyed, love trampled on.

Feeling sorry for yourself is a waste of time, but then so is sleeping if you are really worried about the ticking clock.  But once in a while just take a little time to wallow, lie in the mud, get dirty and weepy. Get it out and over with. That is what I am doing.  Just bear with me, or get bare for me.

May 29, 2013

Today is the; woulda, shoulda, coulda, day. 

You know I should have kept working and not become a stay at home mom, wife…. I would have been better off financially, not rich just better than I am.  I could have let my hubby walk the first time he left instead of waiting for him to come back.

Then there is the “Might Haves.”

I might have been better off on my own; I might have found someone more compatible, I might have been happier, maybe, just maybe found someone who really wanted to be with me, love me, make love to me, and let me bite, scratch, be wild in the sack.

Maybe, just maybe… well that last bit is a definite possibility.

May 31, 2013

Ah the perils age, aside from the getting older shit. You knew that didn’t you? The Shit Happens is true because you certainly can’t stop the aging process, you can fix the outside if you have the bucks but you really can’t to shit about the inside not any part of it.

Okay that wasn't what today rant is was about, laughing, well!

June 1, 2013

I know that not everyone I know approved of my 9 month (1997) reunion, love, affair with Pat Vess, depending on who you talked to.

But ya know I have no regrets.  It didn't change anything but I have absolutely no regrets all.. I am glad I found him that we could rekindle for a short while the love we when we first met in 1963, that love that resulted in my first child at 16.

With Jerry Mescoe I will never have any kind of closure.  Maybe I never would have, but it was still possible so long as he was alive.

With Jerry's suicide all possibilities died too.

I am just talking to myself, just talking, thinking, writing and wishing.

With a lot of regret associated too.

 

Will You Wake Me, Make Love to Me?

Will you wake me in the middle of the night and make love to me? They do that in movies, I read it in books.

I said those words to Jerry on our wedding night.  Can you see my smile? He did even though he was tired and had to be on the ship in the morning.

I was 17, full of dreams, looking to be loved and wanted. To make a family, be part of a family, have children.  My dream, shattered, my fault, his fault... too young.

Things I have forgotten, he is gone and cannot fill in those memories, good, bad, or indifferent.  Come back, please.

I cry for my children a father they really didn’t get to know.  I cry for myself a love I let go. I cry for the dream of finding him and making it right.  Tears from deep inside, from a time  past.  I cry for not really knowing how to make it all work.

I cry for him I cry for me, I cry for the family we were supposed to be.

I had to learn to iron his Navy whites. Everyone laughed at him the first time I did, crease in the wrong place. He came home and taught me the right way to do it.  Things wives do, even when they get morning sickness. 

I didn’t know this about myself, he wouldn’t have understood. Even though I was 17 years old biologically, I was emotionally only 15.  What had happened to me at 15, the birth and loss of my first child to adoption stagnated me left me stuck for a very long time.  That event had left me a fragile unhappy child looking to fix it all, looking for love, marriage and a baby.  

So here I sit, crying for myself, I understand that we can mess up our child’s lives when we don’t give them good role models, then again, even when parents do, our children can screw up our own lives.

So for now, tears will have to suffice. I can’t change or fix any part of the past; I can’t bring Jerry back and say I am sorry, please love me again.

I am lost

Quiet physical moaning

Threat of salty wave

Feeling of loss sadness

Confusion

Ache of body and soul

Heavy weighted feel

Energy draining

Throbbing

Sliding shedding

Renewal denied

Inward pull

Sealed in

Desire

Unheard call

Detachment

Reclusive

Contemplation

Find Me

©Saroya Poirier    May 19, 2013

Blessed Beltane

Blessed Beltane summer comes

New growth appears on the run

Mother’s release from winter chill

 Birds celebrate with a joyful trill

Earth begins to transform

Flowers bloom soil warms

Children round the May pole wind

Ribbon colors to entwine

Delightful mating in the night

Babes born at winters light

The spring full circle comes again

With waning moon o’er quite glen

©Saroya Poirier May 1, 2013

OH MY GOD, oh my gosh, we are so screwed.

WHY you ask?

Everything we broadcast, radio, TV, CB, shortwave, long wave whatever it is, shoots off into outer space, more so now that we have satellites above our planet. Those life, different from us, forms, in or out of our galaxy know exactly how we win and destroy invaders of all kinds.

 Think about it, we make movies about defeating invaders from beyond our galaxy.

They will eventually, after they watch all the “I love Lucy” reruns will know all our secrets of defense and/or lack of it.

They will also know all about the vampires, werewolves and walking dead that live on our planet.  That we every day interact with, sleep with or run screaming from.  Maybe that is good, just maybe that will scare them from trying to invade our little blue planet.  I mean who really allows the stinky rotting dead to continue to occupy space on any planet.   At least vampires don’t stink, and werewolves just smell like wet dogs at their worst.   

I came to this conclusion after watching a wonderful, cough, invaders from outer space movie, Battleship. 

It was an awaking; really I woke up this morning and went OH shit, what have we done?

Well it is time for a new battle plan to keep invaders off this planet.  Put on your thinking caps; use only paper to pass this information around. 

No electronics  beings on other planets are listening.

Be safe. 

Me

It's Just One

It's just one of those days
It's just one of those nights
When nothin ain't right
But nothin is wrong
Just one of those crazy times

You can't find the wrong
You can't fix the right
Lost in a foggy world
Head filled with stuffing
Nothin is going your way

It's just them dreary days
Just a sleep it away kind of day
A day that slips into night
Just one of the odd times of life

It's pullin you hair out
Hidin under the blankets
Nerve ends singin kind of times
Screamin seems to be the thing to do
Won't do to scare the dog

Nothin is going wrong and nothin is going right
Not a thing to do, not a thing to think
Just ramblin and shamblin through life
Just ya think now you're zombie like
I'd rather be the Karloff  mummy

Now that I found something funny
I think it ain't so bad,
But then, I'm still wearin my jammies
And I didn't just put them on

Screamin, sounds really good about now

Saroya Poirier © February 2, 2013
I almost typed 1962  hysterical laughter

Today’s Whine

Whine, sad, tears

Fears

Snuffle, sigh, red eyes

Oh my

Depressed, stressed, suppressed

Jest

Lost, wandering, meander

Candour

Well isn’t that special

Revel

Bedeviled, disheveled

Embezzled? 

Happy, sappy, wacky

All done

Saroya Poirier © January 28, 2013

Selfish

I don't know how to start this, scattered thoughts, knowledge that in my own selfishness I ignored signs that grandchildren were being hurt.  That pain will never leave me, and I deserve that pain the ache knowing I could have stepped in sooner.  

When a two and a half year old looks at you, trying to tell you something, imploring you to take her away, and in your own selfishness, you push away the warning bells in your head.  That long stare coming from that small face, her not wanting to get out of my van.  Her mother standing there waiting,  holding out her hands, the child only looking at me willing me to understand.  There are no words to make that pain go away.

It didn't happen once, there were other times, "Go that way, go fast", her pointing the opposite way of the home she lived in with mom.  The home, filled with strangers coming and going, drugs being used on premises, children watching, breathing, ingesting food cooked in that environment.  Lies, teaching lies, drugs are a horrible thing.

Some of it I didn't understand, my generation didn't have the kind of drugs that my children grew up knowing about and or using. I didn't want to think a child of mine would do any thing like this.  I didn't want to believe it was happening, and small children were hurt.  

One year, that was all it was, one horrible year that changed the lives of two beautiful little ones. 

I didn't want it to be true, so I ignored the signs.  My reason, I was already raising one grandchild, I didn't want to raise another let alone two more. 

Then the day came when ignorance truly wasn't bliss. The call from the landlord, eviction, a parade of men in and out of the home and on and on. With the eviction in progress we took the young girls. I still wonder why they didn’t call the police, it is the law when you suspect drugs are being used, but the children would have ended up in foster care, I couldn’t have allowed that.  They came home with us.

I had co-signed the lease; we were responsible, cleaning, repairs, it was sickening to see the way the children had been living.  The cost, my husband angry about the cost and the disbelief that it was all true, the things I had started to suspect and told him about.

I was angry so very angry about it all. I had to look at the ugly truth of what had been happening.  While cleaning out the apartment we found drugs and paraphernalia in the toy box, under mattresses, all kinds of places and residue everywhere.

One child went to live with the other grandma, we kept the youngest.

The child wouldn’t sleep alone, so she slept with me and my husband slept in another room.

Then one night her nightmares started, I was reading when I heard these words, “grandma help me, grandma help me” over and over.  I reached out, touched her head thinking to soothe her. Then, her eyes flew open there was no recognition in them and she started to shake, pulled her arms and legs into her body and said, “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me”.  I pulled back, “it’s grandma, its okay it’s grandma, I yelled for the older grandchild I was also raising.  The 3 year old went into her arms crying, my husband came questioning.

When she was fully awake she came into my arms, wrapped her little hands in my hair, literally shackling her to me. She slept on top of me the rest of the night, her hands in my hair.  This dream came six or more times, every time as she woke up she would wrap her hands in my hair and sleep on top of me. After the third time she would wake to my voice and crawl into my arms. She fell asleep every night with one hand twisted in my hair. My hair was already long but I had to let it grow out more so I could sleep too.   Until the day she finally went home again, four years later, she slept with my hair in her hand.

I will feel guilt for the rest of my life for not opening my eyes and stepping in sooner to help those children.  I love them very much, I am their grandmother, I was there for their births, I am their grandmother, I may not be the biological grandma, but I am forever their grandmother.  I love them and I love my step daughter too, always and forever.

My Mother

Today January 15th is my mother's birthday.

Born January 15, 1930
Eva Rose Poirier, French(grandpa was from Quebec) and German (grandma 1st generation American born) decent.
Married 6 times
Ralph Mennie 1946, Martin Strausbaugh 1955, Jerry Ass hole Holden November 1963 for 6 weeks, Leo Gee 1966, OH my gosh I forgot one, farmer in George WA,  and last Don Ziegler, I don't remember the date

Car wreck, drinking and driving, 1975, broken neck, actually crushed 5&6 C vertebra, low quadriplegic.

Died June 11, 1977  age 47, I am older then my mom.

Mom I am thinking about you.

Wine can be Devine

Hey there everyone!!

I decided to have a glass of wine tonight. I don't drink alcohol often.. sometimes a glass a week, and on occasion every night.. But that doesn't have every year.  Heck, it doesn't happen every week nor every month.
So this very night I decided why not, I said to myself, "self, you bought some wine, why not have a glass."
My self said, "hell yes", is it good?  Self said, " the hell if I know".   So I amble down the hall to the kitchen and open, or rather, try, to open that bottle of wine from QFC (Koger) grocery store.  I put in the opener, twist, twist, that thing that ends up with arms up in the air, and push them down.  Then I pull, wiggle, pull, squeak, squeak, twist, pull, screw the thing deeper into the cork, push those arms down AGAIN, and pull, pull.. YES ta da the cork is out.  Cool uh?

I am so good !!! LAUGHING.. one glass and I am buzzed.  This is fun.  Oh kay, the name of this wondrous beverage is, are you ready?  Well it is...... are you sure you are ready?  The Chocolate Lovers Wine... not bad, not bad at all.  Not as chocolaty as Coco Vine, but hey, do you really want to drink chocolate all the time? Well hell no you don't.

So tonight, I am so happy there is spell check on blogspot.  Laughing, Hey who snorted ?  Oh that was me.

Hey everyone, want a glass of wine??  Hay is for horses,, Hey hey need a lay?

Just call, 555  oh wait, um, well heck.. you are going to have to go buy your own wine.. Laughing hysterically.   Thank the gods of spell check.

Laughing wildly like a demented old broad.. ? old?  is only a matter of years, the mind is younger then you are.

Saroya
just a little tipsy

now to push the publish button and!!!!!!  ;o) I think there is a boo boo, but I can't find it.

 

leaden

I am dead inside tonight

Harassed belittled demeaned

What’s this what’s that

And he wonders why I am depressed

My body feels leaden succumbing to gravity

“Is it all in her head doc”…..?

What the fuck did he really say that in front of me to my doctor?

They say you shouldn’t marry someone then try to change them.

I never tried to change him, wouldn’t have done any good.

Alcoholics’ are oblivious to anyone but themselves.

I am a night person; I like to clean at night

Read all night, stay up, go to sleep at dawn.

He is a day person.

He tried to change me, It didn’t work.

My chest hurts; I don’t feel I can’t fight gravity

It will have its way with me tonight.

A gray fog is pressing in my head.

Holding back tears that will do no good

I don’t want to fight this battle anymore

But it is really, for me, too late to change it all.

Reality is ugly

Saroya Poirier  January 3, 2013  

Unlovable

If I can’t be loved no one can be loved

Am I unlovable or are you?

They say they love you their actions say no

Do they laugh because you believe do they stray?

Are you the only one or are we many

Are we young or are we old

Do we know what love should be?

Or is it only in our imagination?

I know my parents love me, but sometimes I wonder

But logic tells me to believe rid myself of doubt, can I?

If I can’t be loved and no one can

Is love real and how does it feel..

Saroya Poirier © January 2, 2013

Anyone can feel this way, at 6, 16, or 64