Monday, May 5, 2008

The End of Leave

(June 16th, 2005)

Ok, so it's almost four in the a.m....
And I have to leave for the airport in less than an hour
My bags are all finally packed to go
And all i want right now is a nap and a long hot shower.
But I doubt that I'll get either one
Since I've last minute checking around to do
I can't find my cd player anywhere,
And my cd's and both pairs of sunglasses too.

These two weeks went by so quickly,
Way faster than even I was really willing to bet;
And though I'm actually glad to return
I just kinda wish that my fun wasn't over quite yet.
I've been running nonstop since I got here
And as for sleep, well, I guess I'll sleep when I'm dead
But a pillow does sound great about now
As well as the lure of that warm comforting bed.

Just a few more hours left until
I get back to the daily hammer ,chisel, and grind
And although it'll be hot (and work)
I really must say that I don't at all mind.
I'm convinced that I worked harder
On this leave and vacation from work of mine
Than I have in our last month of work
And all in such hurried and exhausting short time!

But now I'm fianally going home
Or at least to the other place I like to call such
And the fun I had here, I'm sure to have there
And although different, I'm sure I'll enjoy it as much!

A Missed Calling

(This is old... from Feb. 27th '06... recently ran across it in my livejournal... it kinda fits tonights reminiscing mood)

So despite what Chrysteen told me, sometimes I feel that I've missed my calling. Today is a lovely day. And as usual, I am filled with joy and satisfaction when I think about where I am and what I am doing: I would rather be no where else than where I am right now. I love my life, I love the navy, I love the work i do for her. But there are days also like today, where there is another current, an underlying one, which whispers in my ear... The doors and windows are thrown wide open to catch the light breeze from the outside, and fill my house with the warm smell of the desert in spring. The sink is full of tepid water, and soaking dishes, and the washer and dryer make the soft clicks and clinks that are their way of putting in their two cents. My toes are cold from stepping on the wet tiles of the kitchen floor which I just washed, and my sleeves are pushed up past my elbows to release the warmth of that workout. A half cup of coffee by my elbow patiently awaits re-heating, as it has been forgotten, along with the rest of the household chores, in deference to one of the two laptops which have taken up permanent residence on the dining room table...Colorful sounds pour out of said laptop, and penetrate every space of the surrounding area. Ah music! How it permeates one's being with hopes and fears, longings, memories, dreams, losses. Elation and depression, all at once. It makes sorrows heavier, and spirits lighter; and chores, easier or harder, depending on whether one chooses to clean with the rhythm, or give in to the urges to dance and sing. Lost in the swirling, dizzying, intoxication brought on by all these sensations, I fall into a dreamland, and suddenly am waiting for the little ones to wake from their naps, so that we can go to the bus stop to greet the older one after school. Dinner is planned, and ready to be started while helping out with homework, and although tired from the days housework and errands, the thought that my love will soon be home stirs up a new energy in me, and calms somewhat the insanity going on inside...And suddenly, jolted out of my daydreams by the overly obnoxious buzz which the dryer decided would best capture my attention, I realize that maybe I missed my calling. But then again, I never met anyone who could help me solidify that hazy hallucination. Maybe... maybe despite my chosen career, I will still live in that world. Someday, maybe...

Sunday, May 4, 2008

Someone mentioned Blackberries...

When I was a little girl we used to pick tons of blackberries(and strawberries, and raspberries, and any other kind of berry we could get our small fingers on), and then spend all weekend in the kitchen with mom making and canning preserves. I miss canning. The house always smelled wonderful, and the steam would make the kitchen walls sweat. We little girls, so eager to help out, were probably more in the way than actually of assistance. We'd make ourselves almost sick with the continuous tasting of the jam, and licking of cooled spoons. Once it was finished, and the sun would be dipping down on the horizon, the family would gather on the front porch in the cooling evening, and together we would pray the family's daily rosary, and say the childrens' night-time prayers. Waving hello to the couples taking evening strolls, we'd shout our goodnights to the neighbors and children about in that small Kansas town, and head up stairs to bed while the grown-ups (usually my mother and grandmother, and occasionally my father and perhaps an uncle or two) would stay up late, getting in their time for peace and quiet, and adult conversation.