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Paulina Angela

writings and ramblings

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Paulina Angela

Beginning

Aurora

Beth’s plan will work, eventually but for now they wait. Between whistle and shouts summoning the dogs mother and daughter listen in strained silence for the  sound of excited canine breaking a way through the bush.  Scarlet is cold and thirsty but keeps quiet. She can tell her mother is embarrassed by their predicament. It is apparent by Beth’s constant reassurance also by the quivering lack of conviction behind her words. The thing is, despite being uncomfortable, Scarlet has faith in her mother. This feeling of optimism is new to her, not at all usual for Scarlet, but something is telling her to just go with it. So she is, waiting quietly for the rescue she knows is on the way.

As the day darkens the low slung moon brightens. From her seat on the decaying beech  Scarlett’s gaze is captivated by the silver globe. How easy it would be to reach out and drag her fingertips along its surface. So close yet this pie in the eye moon goes unnoticed by her mother whose agitation is opposite to Scarlett’s calm. A strange turn-about because for the past year Scar had been the one in distress. So many worried nights listening to her parents argue and then trying not to hear them, existing in a constant state of anxiety. Until now. Lately something new has been hanging around in the back of her mind. Poking through the stress and negativity an inkling of something new has cropped up. She can’t say for sure but  it might be hope. Usually Scar does  not to believe in such promises, but now, beneath glow of this astronomical sphere, she  finds herself considering the possibilities.

Beth, on the other hand, can no longer sit neither can she stay silent. She has taken to pacing and muttering. Between shouts and whistle the woman pleads (to who knows who) to please show her the way. When that doesn’t work she hums distractedly. It is a tune Scar does not recognize and does not inquire, only listens. Her mom begins to sing:

If you are in the woods  –  when the moon is bright

and the day of thanks is late

On outstretched branches  –  in exaltation 

Aurora’s brilliance dances 

If you’re in the woods  – under frozen sky

to witness bow and streamer 

from roots of pine and pulp  – Scarlet blooms unfold

the prophesy retold

 far and wide –  but it’s here in Juniper Valley

where the original grace resides

What a pretty tune.  When Scarlet says so Beth answers with a dismissive wave. “Silly old song my Grandpops used to sing. I don’t know what made me think of it” and resumes her pacing and pleading

Observing her mother Scarlet wonders what’s the difference between a spell and a prayer? As far as she can tell both are nothing more than words weaved into poems or chants, sometimes a song. Is the power in the words or in the belief? No matter the name, no matter a persons notion, combined or alone, on bended knee or standing and pacing, there is power in the idea. Beliefs practiced in  groups and gatherings, coven and congregations whether casted or prayed  all are  heard… and sometimes answered.

It is huge relief when Buffy and Boots scamper towards them. Beth laughs and hugs the dogs already forgetting the deals she’d been making with the universe.  “Whose a good dog?”  Patting each furry head before commanding “Go Home.”

Tiny snow begins to fall, so light with wide gap between flakes it’s enough to excite the pups. Mother and daughter follow the animated animals as they scamper homeward. Between the fresh snow and full moon the dogs are frisky and in no hurry to get back. The path they blaze is an indirect one, full of loops and zig zag, Beth miust repeatedly remind them of their task. The ground has become frozen and crunchy.  Tree branches are dusted with snow and the silvery moon gives the woods the appearance of an old black and white film. Again Beth takes no notice of things beyond her begging Boots and Buffy to “GO HOME.”  Lifting her arm she points in a direction she hopes will get her point across. Boots bounds up to her playfully wagging his tail and nudging her leg. He then returns to Buffy and the two begin to sing .

Scarlet is stunned. “wow, dogs really do that?”

The hounds have brought them to the farthest end of the property, coming to a halt in front of a giant balsam tree, where they began to howl.

This particular evergreen has been allowed to grow in abundance. Both tall and wide without competition or crowding. Majestic green, its needles a vivid contrast to the black and white back drop. Basking beneath swirls of silver spotlight from a moon  so low it appears to rest upon the trees pinnacle. “Mom” Scarlett whispers “what kind of tree is this?” From the branch end Scar plucks a small red bud. Peering upward the two behold blooms. Not large but long and thin, much like ribbon, like red ribbon. Beth’s sight continues to travel up, nearer to the top but not all the way, she sees it. Faded and worn with letters of gold, half a sash which once read “2nd runner-up.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Devotion

 

this poem comes from loss and grief.  two weeks ago I began to try to imagine myself and my child in a such a  devastating situation.

please forgive me if this is too raw or too presumptuous.

mother and son

Oh, to give you it all

my darling

my child

if I had it to give

the world would be yours

alas, my sweet babe

all I own is my being

so much as its worth

when you need it

it’s yours

should it rescue your soul

or it lift up your life

can it soothe you and heal you or cure you of strife?

well then

it is yours, freely I give

my devotion my existence my breath and my beat

my darling,

my child

 affording faithful forgiveness

  to you, for you

from above, I will pray

 

Lusty Lustful Lust

Lust via Daily Prompt: Lust 

Oh man todays word is lust.

nymph

I woke up early this morning after a night of strangely disturbing and somewhat provocative dreaming. I was happy to leap out of bed at the first flicker of daylight.

Slippers, tea and my laptop already a beautiful morning. Flip open the monitor and straight to wordpress.com for todays word.

LUST

Oh lusty lustful lust!

I couldn’t be happier. Just thinking the word puts a queer and slightly unbalanced smile to my lips. Don’t get me wrong, I love love but lust that’s so much more fun, and so controversial.

There is lust for life. Most agree life is something worthy of desire. A lusty attitude which only means you have a healthy energy and robust demeanor. Wonderlust is a whimsical way to describe someones nomadic tendencies.

But lust, plain old physical, instinctual, carnal, wanton fornication, now that is a sin. In fact it is considered one of the seven deadly sins. To partake is to lead to more immoralities. Basically it’s a gateway sin.

Excuse me?

I take issue with that statement.

It has been my experience where lust has led me to one of two results:

  1. we have nice consensual sensual time ending with a happily sated separation.
  2. lust turns to love. If you’re not paying attention love can kill lust. (seriously, love will conk him on the noggin and knock lust out cold. mouth to mouth STAT revive him before you lose him) In a long-term relationship you gotta keep the lust alive.

I will also mention that a little lust can go a long way. Really and truly, a little is all you need. To feel inspired, to feel sexy and desirable, to remind you of the thrill of being alive. There is, however this thing called obsession. It is not sexy. So like most things in life, moderation.

 

Every guy thinks they want a nymph. Then they meet me (or some other totally fun and awesome chick like me) and find out it can be more work than its worth.

woodland nymph

This is a woodland nymph. I relate to  her because I am known to describe myself as being like a woodland creature. You know, soft, timid and harmless like a bunny or a fawn. Although Hotty Scotty likes to point out that wolves are also woodland creatures. Hahaha! yes they are.

Full Moon Fever

Cringejuly 15 acc

Last night Hotty Scotty took me to this show. We both like Tom Petty but it is I who has  both loved and hated his music for various emotional reasons throughout my life.

You know how certain music becomes attached to what you are doing or how you are feeling at the time? My problem with Tom is he has always seemed to be in the background of everything I do, but never so much as in 1989. The year Tom Petty released “Full Moon Fever” and the year I tried to forget.

I was dumped on Valentines day that year. Which doesn’t seem like a big deal, and it wasn’t, or at least it shouldn’t have been but I was young and foolish, angry and resentful and most likely full of myself. (what a vain young girl I was – well, still kinda am, except for the young part) It was in this moment of rejection that I allowed myself to indulge in something, well someone, who I knew I should not have. First mistake, biggest mistake and the catalyst for what was to come.

1989 was the year I graduated from high school (pregnant), the year my beloved dog “Boots” died and the year I met Joe, the man I knew I was meant to marry. really? How can you know that at 17? All I can tell you is I knew I shouldn’t love him, so I said didn’t, but really did. I knew I had disrupted my family with my selfishness so I kept my agony to myself. I also knew all of this could just be hormones and emotions talking so I tried to be tough (I now know strong and tough are not the same but back then I thought tough was cool and no different).

So how does Tom Petty fit into all this? Well the album was released in April 1989 and it was the next month that I met Joe. The moment angels sang and my knees turned to jelly, stomach flopped and lightening struck…please insert every falling in love cliché  here. By summertime he was driving me home and singing along to “Free Falling” … “she’s a good girl loves her mama love Jesus and America too” he’d turn up the radio and then to me asking why couldn’t I be a good girl?  As the summer went on and my belly grew (I should point out the unborn infant not his -I was already knocked up when we met) he would look at me and sing along “Yer so bad, the best that I ever had…  Joe would smile but I could see he was falling in love with us (me and my belly) and that he didn’t want to, many times he said “you are not the kind of girl a guy marries.” It was this statement that made me turn against Tom Petty. For many years following, after Joe and I split, after I searched the woods for the body of my dog, (he was dying, and as dogs sometimes do he’d wandered away, though I tried to stop him). After I gave my newborn child up for adoption and I just about lost my mind . After all this, the year passed to 1990  and I shoved the memories of 1989 into a pit which I had dug deep down in my gut then stepped on them like an overflowing trash bin. I did not embrace that I was a bad girl or one which a man does not marry but I believed it.

During the decade of my twenties I could not hear Tom Petty music without being reminded of my heartaches and mistakes, the memories brought me embarrassment. I would literally cringe if “free-falling” came on the radio, my hand automatically clicking to a new station.

At age seventeen I presumed by the time I was thirty I would be mature enough to look back at myself in retrospect with what… love? understanding? I don’t know, but surely by then enough time would have passed that I could return to becoming who I was meant to be. But thirties came and went and while I was a little wiser and more mature I still wasn’t quite there yet. It wasn’t until I was 40 and divorced, realizing I would never have any more children but grateful for the one I share with my ex, and finally in a strong loving relationship, that I came to understand I was wrong. I had misunderstood Joe’s interpretation of the lyrics. I began to listen to Tom Petty again and was grateful for the memories he provided. Without his music I may have succeeded in obliterating 1989. All those years ago Joe probably did not mean I was not a good girl. It suddenly occurred to me that he had his own struggles, namely,  falling in love with pregnant girl. He might have felt like “I’m a bad boy for breaking her heart.”  Also he did not mean, as I took it, that no man would ever want to marry me. He was just talking himself out of loving me. I was a big bag of trouble and he was on his way to something great. It took me twenty-something years to understand that he was only looking out for himself and not trying to hurt me. We were all hurting.

We were so young, still learning to fly but we didn’t have wings. Coming down is the hardest thing.

Tom Petty may not be my most favourite musician (although he is up there) but his music has been the soundtrack to my life whether I liked it or not.

Bravo!

full moon fever

Jangle

Janglevia Daily Prompt: Jangle

phone

There is a commotion at grandmothers house

children are huddled together and squabbling in the kitchen

some hubbub about “what is this thing affixed to the wall?”

they shove and point and shout out guesses

When the rotary device rudely jangles

grandkids are startled and step back in alarm

the  tintinnabulation produced by the relic is jarring.

curiosity heightens as Nonna shuffles toward in slippers

“Hello?”

phone 2

message in a bottle

via Daily Prompt: Bottle   

DCF 1.0

Springtime is in its youth. It is a time when waters run rapid and  before summers heat renders the creek lazy. A perfect time for racing twigs and bark, for pitting pine cones against peanut shells. Standing on the narrow bridge, siblings toss vessels of found debris into the current, betting on which will emerge first. Once it is established that our own stick is superior to any other we sprinted across the country road to witness the emerging winner.  Of course a stick is a stick is a stick and sometimes there is confusion about whose switch was whose.

On a day when brothers and sisters have no interest in imaginary boating competitions I think up something new. A romantic idea often seen in cartoons and movies sometimes songs. I will put a message in a pop bottle. With paper torn from my notebook I write: My name and address along with instructions to whom in may concern please reply and we will be pen pals. I seal the bottle, ride my bike to the bridge, and dispatch into the current. Spring waters swiftly engulf the bottle and I hope it will gain some distance before being washed ashore.

Well, that is the end of the story. No one ever wrote to say they received my message in a coke bottle. Probably, all I really did was pollute the river with glass. That is how I think about it now but when I was twelve I imagined the bottle launching into an adventurous journey and ending at an exotic locale. I imagined the finder of my note to be so intriguing and likewise intrigued by me that we would become pen pals for life. I will also mention that it was many years before I gave up the hope of receiving a reply. My folks still live at that address so if you find it please write to me. I’ll get the message.message in a bottlethings contained in bottles:

  • messages
  • genies
  • poison / antidote / cure
  • medicine / elixir
  • boats / ships
  • condiments
  • potions  ( most common “love # 9)
  • emotions / feelings
  • rockets
  • bottle bomb or as it’s more commonly known  “Molotov cocktail”
  • candles
  • beverages – ie; milk, juice, water, soda pop
  • spirits / wine
  • screams
  • specimens – live or dead
  • flatulent gases – aka farts
  • breast or mommy milk
  • bouquet – flower display
  • smoke, BT bottle toke – I’ve added this one for the pot heads

– honourable mention-  Jim Croce wanted to put time in a bottle but was unable.

*if you can think of any more please share with me in the comments box

convertible

Revelationmustang scottySo Hotty Scotty bought a mustang convertible. Yay!!! I have never been in one and have always wanted a convertible!  Although, the convertibles of my fantasies are usually little blue miatas or a 1980s Mercedes like the one Mr. Nijhuis has.(had?)  Scott’s mustang  (oh, did I mention Scott LOVES mustangs. the list goes 1. mustangs 2. baseball, well all sports really 3. 90s music 4. me 5. smoking. 4 and 5 are interchangeable depending on how annoyed he is with me) is an unfortunate black with red interior. It is so tacky that I am both embarrassed by it and in love with it.   When I announce that I love it mostly for being the underdog of the cool car world Scott is offended. Probably because that is also my reason for loving him.

We now have six cars parked in the driveway. Two are mustangs ( the other a fox body, a term I only recently learned when someone at work asked me if Scott had a “fox body” mustang and I replied why would he need that when he has me? hahaha- me laughing alone). Only one car in the driveway belongs to me. The up side being it always appears as if someone is home. (although if anyone was going to burglar our street they would probably choose to rob one of the many new and ridiculously large mansions built by wealthy neighbors rather than our 1950’s brick box. In proportion to the neighbors house ours could be it’s outhouse, but the joke’s on them because they chose to live next to us). the downside being, that when he has all vehicles outside of the garage I have to be extra careful in how I park. I am a known klutz so why he would ever risk parking near me is beyond comprehension. When you think about it, if I accidentally back into his BMW with my lowly Escape it’s really his own fault.

Anyway back to the tacky convertible. (no wait sidebar- his other mustang I call the douchemobile. What?!? If you saw it you’d understand. It has a giant cobra on the hood and says Dech on the back bumper! He pronounces it Deck but I say douche)  So the new (to us) mustang is awesome! I took my first ride in it this morning through the timmy’s drivethru. I felt so free riding in a car sans roof! I can’t believe I’ve lived 46 39 years without this experience. It’s like a divine revelation! Scott says he’s not surprised that I feel so free… since I opted to leave the house dressed in nothing but a sun-dress sans underwear.  We next stop at macs milk so he can check his lotto tickets. “You can stay in the car and keep your revelations to yourself.” he says, “Unless you can find a grate  to stand over Marilyn Monroe style.”  Those are my only options? That’s what you get when you decide to go commando. I wait in the car. When he returns I suggest we find a quiet county road so I can climb in the backseat and perch atop the trunk like they do in the movies Scott says no.

me: why?  just drive slow, I will hang on to the roll bar

him:  why do you want to do that? I think it’s illegal

me:  okay we’ll wait until sundown – no we’ll wait ’til it gets dark and I can take my shirt off  yaya sisterhood style. Oh yeah! brilliant! total freedom!

him:  okay, settle down there 10 year old Pauline, I think you’ve had enough freedom

me: can you ever really have too much freedom?

douchemobile

I think he should get vanity plates – DCH MBIL

Moonlight

Imaginarymoonlit

Scarlet Leigh’s youth is filled with stories about the hidden orchard. Listening to her mother’s bedtime tales, Scarlet became caught up with imaginary enchanted apple trees and blossom whirlwinds. Beth had always described her secret place in a manner so marvelous that young Scarlet would dream of the day she might finally see it for real. Of course that was before, before her mother moved her here to live at Milkweed lane. Before her parents had split up and their home was bright new condo in the city. That was before and this is after. After the crying and arguing.  After the insults, shouting, and court dates. After all assets were as divided as her family .  Now Scarlet visits dad in the city every other weekend and during the week she rides a school bus (so lame) into Juniper Valley metropolis (as if!) for school. This  new school is soooo small (how small is it?)  So small that besides herself the grade eight class has only 18 students, and she is in one of the larger groups. The kindergarten class has two kids enrolled (seriously, one – two). On its whole Juniper Valley Public School consists of exactly 103 students.

The snow stopped falling about an hour ago. Although the day is late the sun has finally begun to shine and Beth wants to show her daughter the secret orchard.  When her daughter was little, Scarlet always pleaded with her to take her to the orchard now it seems, as Scarlet puts on boots and coat reluctantly, like it is the last thing she would want to do. Beth sighs, she is happy to be back in her childhood home, even if she and Scar are staying in the cottage across the pond rather than the homestead.  Either way Beth feels at home but Scar is a fish out of water. Well if they are going to go they had better get going the sun won’t shine much longer. It is the Monday of the October long weekend and the days are getting shorter.

Although she has walked the route from house to orchard hundreds of times, Beth hasn’t done so in almost two decades. The tractor path leads to the back field but beyond that she must navigate through the forest by memory. As Mother and daughter begin the hike Beth reminisces about her youth. From a distance one might mistake the pair as sisters but on closer inspection you can see Scarlet intentionally placing space between herself and the woman she calls Mother. Beth, now growing shorter in comparison to her teenage offspring is trying  desperately to reconnect.

Looking ahead at the point of entry the remembered gateway between trees does not seem so welcoming. Either the trees have grown together closing the gap or Beth’s memory is incorrect. She expects to enter just this side of the cedars, between a climbing maple and the big tree fort. On approach she can see the cedars now take up much more real estate and the big tree fort… not so big, meanwhile the climbing maple is so tall you could not pay Beth enough to even attempt a climb.

In the bush and under the protection of many branches the ground is relatively snow-less. Where once a path had been worn now not a trace. Beth looks around for the landmarks of her memory. Her brothers campsite in her mind is approximately 50 feet from where she entered. She expects a small clearing to pitch a tent and a fire pit. Beth circles the area, head down, determined to find the past and not noticing Scarlett’s boredom. She uncovers a few rocks that may have once formed a circle to surround something that might be an old chard log. In her head she was here just the other day but physically standing over the fire pit she feels as if she’s discovering  evidence of another life.  Looking up, the big picture, it is the same old forest, but up close everything has changed. Old feelings of familiarity do not belong to her anymore. Beth always thought these things belonged to her, she owned the view, she was wrong. Maybe her experiences and her memories can be counted as belongings, but the rest just belongs.

Time passes quietly as Scarlet follows Beth. Half an hour ago Beth swore she knew where she was going but after thirty silent minutes of trailing her wandering mother Scarlet finally says out loud what she’s been thinking.  “We’re lost, aren’t we?”

Above them a low slung hunters moon illuminates the woods. Scarlet wonders If Beth even noticed the light changing from gold to silver. Moonlight is a funny thing, it can inspire dogs to sing and lovers to yearn, under its spell snow twinkles and the world glows with luster. The thing is, it is not the moon who is responsible. Oh she’ll take all the credit but in reality moonlight is but a reflection. Like the earth, the moon comes alive from basking beneath Suns generous rays.

“I think we might be lost.” Beth finally surrenders and sits defeated on the remains of a fallen beech tree. Scarlet Leigh perches next to her.  Wanting to comfort her mom but leaving a gap between them she says “Its okay, I am not disappointed. How are we going to get home?” Beth smiles and pats her daughters knee. “Don’t worry, we will follow the dogs home.” Beth stands, placing two fingers under her tongue and a deep inhale she presses out one then another sharp whistle, high-pitched and loud enough to summon dogs from the next county. “The dogs will finds us. When they do I will command they go home, then we just follow them.”

Beth sits back down on the old tree trunk.

“Are you sure this will work?”

“Yep. always worked when I was a kid. Well, except if the dog is inside the homestead.” Beth chuckles and shakes her head. ” Don’t worry, the dogs will come.”

Both are silent as they wait to be rescued. A chilly gust whips between them and mother and daughter automatically move together. Beth reaches her arm around Scarlet while they wait beneath the October moon.

Farce

Farcevia Daily Prompt: Farce

mismatch

the bungling duo walked arm in arm

he to her right as she dragged him along

he couldn’t look forward she never looked back

if they combined their efforts they might get the knack

but she thought him foolish

and he thought himself great

nothing ever accomplished

fault seemed ever their fate

left at the altar

on the day they would wed as all would expect

he was so late that the guests had all left

she sobbed at the altar – but not on that day

for she had arrived much, much too early, with flower bouquet

Seemed like just about everyone knew she wouldn't show.

when later they met she shouted at him

what folly! what mockery your wit is so dim!

you’re foolish and daft and not much of a bloke

you treated our nuptials as if they’re a joke –

she shook as she wailed  “was our love just a farce?”

to which he calmly replied – “my dear… kiss my arse.”

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