Proof

The above picture is simply documented proof....


The boys do not get being "hams" from me.


So there,

.mac :)

wrinkles

Clouded eyes readjust the rearview,

A little more to the left...

No, don't look.

Just go on ahead.

You'll be just fine.

But my hand keeps fumbling with the tilt.

I do so as if I am being summoned.

LOOK.

And with knees fraile, I sit awhile.

And gaze back.

Second and third glances at my yesterdays become full-on stares.

Obnoxious & rude even for my gaping is a bit obtrusive.

But the photographs and memories don't mind.

I seek and I find old faces who knew me.

And, I them.

And these faces bring floodfuls of memories back to my very now.

Nostalgia is unforgiving when it beseiges your heart.

You relive.

You pause present and fervantly rewind.

Only to press stop and rewind again in hopes to hear the past more precisely this time.

Yes, perhaps this time through, memory won't leave out every last detail possible.

And there I go again.

Fidgeting more agressively now with the mirror.

Leaning forward, I stretch my eyeballs wide and closer in, in hopes for a better view.

Pissed I forgot my glasses now.

Where are those dang things?

Phsst, no time for that nonsense.

The look-see is about to leave me.

My heart races in remembrance of the past that held me.

Pictures pungent with messages sent and recieved.

sent and received

PAST.

Fingers aching to find a way to feel.

Knuckles buckling at the chance.

Lips on the ready to say it all once more, only this time a little louder.

Yes, with more gusto.

That'll do it.

An immediate urgency to put an end to this nostalgic-ness.

NO MORE.

For be it the best or the absolute worst, I don't like looking back.

It's in the fierce & frantic moments of fleeting memories-in-focus that I find nostalgia looking back at me.

Eyeballs wide and closer in for hopes of a better view.

I peer desperately at my many yesterdays.

And, sweetly my yesterdays surround me:  the good and the bad.

And alas, I feel a sincere peace envelope me.

Discreetly, with a brilliance unknown to man, nostalgia whispers goodbye.

Foggy and diluted with emotions, I remain transfixed.

And suddenly, with eyeballs wide, there I am.

Staring at two green irises and overly dialated pupils.

Wrinkles are but her footprints left.

.mac :)

Change

It's a good thing, you know.

What's that?

Oh, change.

It brings forth new perspectives and different angles all of a sudden-like.

It wrestles unequivocally with stagnancy and puts a good whoopin' on him too.

Did she just say whoopin'?  

Uh-huh.
Yes, I did.

And change-ups are good for the soul, mind you.

They require some rearranging and some squirming too for that matter.

Like girls that go auburn outta their own bathroom and all by themselves late Christmas afternoon.

And, kinda like my photo shoot with my eldest son for the new winter blog header.  

These pictures are what I envisioned.

Eli Garrett had something else in mind.  {note the new header}

Both of us agreed on the lemon boa hair piece.

Who me?

I've been anything but stagnant.  

Ahhh, change is is in the air!

.mac :)

Expendere

I feel as though there is a tugging necessity.

A need o' mine, if you will.

To expel out all that is within.

I do this quite often in my journal.

It is quite entertaining to re-visit and re-read.

bullet |ˈboŏlit|noun
Printing a small solid circle printed just before a line of type, such as an item in a list, to emphasize it.
* I aDoRe these colors by Crayola. I feel as if adore is even an understatement. Each day in journal time with the boys, I am like a hungry lion searching for his prey of Tumbleweed and Cadet Blue in our crayon basket. I would just like to say "gu-gah" here.* These colors are so NOT my color palette of choice. I mean, come on, avid readers. Need I remind you I am akin to her.* These hues are breathtakingly calm to me. They are tone setters in my world of shades. I even have the boys on the Tumbleweed/Cadet Blue bandwagon now. * They blend immensely wonderful with colors that pop like rockstar raspberry (Yes, I concocted that name up all by myself. Thank me later, Crayola) as well as colors like Dandelion (which is the formal name for the typical colored grabbed for one Caucasian child's skin tone).* Seriously, Dandelion? Come on, Crayola. I'll send you my addy and no worries, I can totally work from home.* I am teaching the boys the art of side shave coloring. Again, gu-gah. There is nothing better than watching a 5 and 3 year old peel paper off a tube colored wax faster than they can eat a marshmallow. * Back in my days of paid teaching, one of the first covert operations I had was to seek out the absolute best illustrators in my class. You know, the ones who understood the concept of space. These were the kids that knew the difference between coloring and illustrating. What's that? Yes, there is a difference. To me, coloring is what you see that is empty and needs to be filled in. Illustrating, on the other hand, is seeing what is not there, but could be taking into account the senses and secrets to tapping into them. Yes, natural born illustrators inherently know that blending colors is more realistic and that... GASP, one can, in fact, throw in a swirl on top of a straight line stroke for added gusto. Hook, line, and sinker. Immediately, and I do mean, righttheverymoment I had them pegged, I would move them to sit with the lower level scribblers and the one-fourthers. (one-fourthers being the kiddos that used just 1/4th of the page for their illustrations).* Yes, I am okay with peeling the entire paper off of the crayon.* I usually like to make my own color names up for each color anyway. * Broken crayons don't bother me either.* I gifted myself a box of oil pastels about 3 months ago. The most fun I have had with them is watching the boys play with raw color and their investigations on how impressionably soft these color sticks are.* I DO NOT enjoy the permanent stains on clothing these oil pastels produce.* So, most often the boys use these in their boxer briefs. I stayed clothed rest assured.* I dream of using this medium in some Sunshine for the Soul Home Goods one day.* The picture above will be used again in at least 2-3 other posts I project. It has so many metaphorical meanings to me. * Whilst on the topic of colors, my nails are in definite deprivation of color. For like, the last 2 months. Sheesh. Gotta get on that.* I am in search of my perfect Fall signature color in clothing. * Yes, I choose a signature color to accentuate every season. It's a fun little game me and my noggin like to play together.* I am torn between a deep sea foam blue-green or raspberry. My hope is to infuse a mustard hue with either. I also like the idea of navy thrown in with either of my choices.* The older I get, the less I like the color black. Like, I don't want to wear it at all. Weird, huh? * I am so jazzed about the leaves changing color. I love the melon ones trimmed in gold with apple green tips. * I'm ready for a new haircolor. I have been funky with my brown & blonde, but I'm heavily considering a deep auburn brown solid these days. * %&*$, my gray hairs. 34 is the age I will mark on my calendar for the commencement of gray on my scalp. Prickly little stout suckers too.* I have this secret craving to paint a ceiling and 3 other rooms in my home.* Shhh. Kenny doesn't know that yet.
Ahhh, expel.Expend.EXPENT!
(once again, on the DL with that last ramble there as well. Kenny is a high school English teacher.)
.mac :)

{enough}

contain |kənˈtān|verb [ trans. ]1 have or hold (someone or something) within : coffee cans that once contained a full pound of coffee.• be made up of (a number of things);

Contained is my oxymoron.

I am so but yet not in the least.

Unleashed is my enthusiasm.

My giddiness.

My glee and goofs.

In texts.

Conversations.

First impressions too.

I slop & slush my innerds only looking back to consider blushing a time or two.

Nah.

It's me.

God's child.

Meghan Alicia.

But then prolific thoughts seap out hidden away in attic spaces.

You said what?

You meant that.

You think you can, do you?

Do you really find rest in your now?

Your very best, really?

I toss in and out of my very presence.

Sucker punching my instincts and scolding my self-doubt.

I grieve my heritage.

Longing for a more optimistic revelry.

A place where Meghan Alicia is quite enough.

Long lived are the ones that breathed before me.

Thus, my existence documented.

My name written.

The ink fresh smeared from a southpaw swipe.

I live.

I am.

I work to lessen that juxtaposition.

Where credence one ups corruption one last and final time.

And smiling settles my soul.

As I am His.

And, I am me.

{enough}

In more ways than one.

.mac :)

(source here for visual aids. I adore these!)

Trio

This summer we took our annual beach trip as a family. Luckily, some of our best friends were beaching it too that week. We arranged a day of beach time together. Tyler coaches with Kenny. Sarah is one of my most favorite people and 1 of 3 in our infamous Goodwill Hunting trio. And Garyn? Well, he is one of the boys' big buds and member of the Batstreet Boys.

Humidity high and feverishly excessive on our mid-morning sandy pad, I noted the family of 3 heading out into the water for some together time.

Scrambling with a fumble pop, I removed the lens cap from my camera hoping for some framers. And no matter which angle I attempted, I COULD NOT crop my eldest son out of the view finder.

Wishful to remain the incognito photographer in stealth mode, I was apprehensive to just blurt out "Get outta the way, Eli!"

I kept trying. Contorting myself in all sorts of Twister-esque positions, I was failing at removing this 4th figure from my looksee glass view.

White flag waving, I submit to the elements. CAP LOCKED humidity and the surplus figure are victorious.

I throw my hands up and join the three FOUR in the shallow waves.

"I was trying to get a family picture of you three without you knowing, but Eli and this humidity would have none of it!" I confessed.

And 3 months later, God reveals His vision on that June morning.

His humidity was signifigant; it was not yet time for Tyler and Sarah's lens to twist into focus.

And Eli?

Well, there was a reason I couldn't crop him out of my view finder.

hindsight |ˈhīn(d)ˌsīt|noununderstanding of a situation or event only after it has happened or developed

The Rich family are no longer meant to be a family of three.

Their story is miraculously moving, Read about it here.

God works in the details.

He is there even before you know it.

Look back and see.

Congratulations, Tyler, Sarah, and Garyn!

.mac :)

Jagged

absence |ˈabsəns|nounthe state of being away from a place or person• an occasion or period of being away from a place or person
Impromptu feels so nice.It's that place where freedom and frenzy duke it out.It's merriment to my very core.Quick shuttered thoughts followed furiously by whispers of doubt.Skipped rhythms.Hustled hurries.{eeks}set.in.motion.Reality rotates just a bit.As routines grumble & cuss under their breath, exploration exudes from your body.Exfoliation of same ole-same ole commences.Scattered meets settled as if for the very first time.And I get goosebumps as they shake hands.
Away.Procured my spirit.Enticed my senses.Hushed and happied my heart.Undefined a teacher's circumspection.Illuminated the tan line on my left ring finger.
Jagged seashells are the perfect writing utensil too.
.mac :)