Not The Rockefellers

Previously on "Not The Rockefellers"… I  am still dealing with his loss. I haven't cried big buckets of tears but rather little Dixie cups here and there. It's amazing what triggers them. A scent, a familiar phrase, a laugh, the word "huh" being said to ensure that what is being said is being understood, the feel of soft sweater and looking at my daughter's eyes.  She has her grandfather's "happy sad" eyes. I don't grieve during these moments, I just lose myself in them.  It can be awkward at times, especially when I am in the Men's section of Macy's and the feel of a sweater on display gets me welling up. "Ma'am are you alright?" "Oh, yes, I'm just having a moment." I suppose I will probably have these moments for the rest of my life. And I will roll with them whenever and wherever they show up. It'll just be my Dad saying Hi." I  knew I needed to find myself. I was in there ...

My favorite Christmas love story ever.... Think of the most romantic place that you could take someone for a first date. Where would it be? A four star restaurant? A play? Picnic in the park? C'mon now, think hard.  You've worked hard to even get this date in the first place. Where are you going to go to set the stage to win her heart? How about Midnight Mass, Christmas morning, at St. Patrick's Cathedral in NYC? That's exactly where my father took my mother over 50 years ago on their very first date. She was a new hire at the accounting firm where he worked in NYC. As my father would tell it, he noticed her smile, her red hair... and her legs...and he'd say that last part smiling.When asked what her first impressions were, m y mother would say in mock horror...He was my boss! but then add that he was a sharp dresser and that he had "kind eyes" They struck up a conversation at lunch one day and found out that they were both from State...

"photo by Mary 2009" She catches herself Building castles In the air Round her finger Every twist Of her hair Brings a new moon A tug on her womb A false start A tear in her heart Instinct Overrides Reality 2AM Poetry ~ Rene This little bit of prose was inspired by my cleaning out a closet full of baby clothes and items. I started out pumped up, ready for the task, unloading…making space and donating the items to a local shelter who could really use them this time of year. Win-win…right? Little did I know that within minutes of starting the task I’d be sobbing into a onesie! When I spotted the flyer asking for donations of baby clothes and lightly used items I saw this as a perfect opportunity to clean out the closet in the back room. And I love me a good closet ass kicking. I think my people were nomads as I tend to jump on any opportunity to rid myself of any and all excess baggage. Gotta travel light :) The main reason behind stockpiling...

once upon a busy sidewalk they brushed shoulders a clipped apology  with the slightest hint of eye contact followed yet the warmth from that brief collision stayed with her all the way to the office every once and again she'd rub her shoulder no blood, no wound all was calm strange, as this would normally annoy her and now she was filled with happiness and  dare she say...joy she pondered on this cautious comfort why was she pondering? she never pondered on source of  anger that, she could easily identify but a source of joy? that must be questioned, scrutinized... it was her city roots  showing she rubbed her shoulder once again smiling concluding that if anger could be transferred  then so must happiness... but not before quickly feeling for her purse once again just to be sure... Peace ~ Rene