To Start Again

To start again is a bit frustrating, but what I should have learned from accidentaly deleting my old blog is that when something you love is destroyed, you must re-build... or in this case re-write.

Well, I wont exactly re-write what I've written, but I will start over with the least amount of anguish possible.

So, I'm a 23-year-old married woman who has been living with her now husband since she was 19. We are awaiting our finished apartment and I can't wait! Ohh to have more room and more freedom. It is great living with my in-laws... there is always someone around and always something to do, but it will be nice to decorate my own place and to practice cooking and to just have a blast with my husband.

It may seem odd that I have been living with my boy (which I will often refer to him as) since I was 19. That is because it is and I have always sworn that my daughter will never feel that she must leave our home so early in life. It may have been more normal back in the day for young adults to move out at 18, but that was when going to work right after high school was the norm. I was in college full-time and she kicked me out (she, of course, being my mother).

Now, I knew that she wasn't fully serious, but I had seen her kick my older brother out several times and I promised myself that the first time she did it to me, I would be gone. And I was.

Moving on from then... I am now a college graduate with a BA in Professional Writing. I enjoy business writing (PR and such), but I also love poetry. It is difficult to feel inspired when you dedicate your time to everyone else, so I am also hoping that the move into our own place will give me more time to write. More time to write and draw and paint and be creative. I'm trying to start the process now.

When I lived with my mother, there was a cemetery a couple of blocks from our house. It was wide open and going there in the day to think, write or jog was a wonderful way to escape. Here is a poem I wrote remembering it for Creative Writing: Poetry

Home

I lived in a cemetery
Its paved walkways
welcomed
my padding sneakers
with a solid 'thump,
thump'

And fresh cut grass
bathed
my agony
with soft, green
remorse

I lived in a cemetery
Its hilled walls cushioned
my settling thoughts
with a warm sofa
embrace

And open air
dressed
my naked tears
with the taste
of morning tea

Nodding
to the grey, tall
or flat stones
as they whispered
"It will be
okay"
I lived in a cemetery.


-Bird