14 Friday Jul 2017
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Brian threw a quick, nervous glance at the clock, the second-hand ticking down the moments of his life. His pale freckled forehead dripping perspiration, his normally red hair now auburn in color as each follicle was plumped up and coated with nervousness and fear. BOOM! The ticking of the clock thunderously resonated in his ears and […]
via Dead End at Promise Drive — Gray Trimant
31 Tuesday Mar 2015
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My take on being engaged to a man with children was simple : they will be my kids and I will care for them as my mother did for me. Their father is a very capable and efficient parent, having dealt with three small boys alone for ten plus years, which makes my entry into this little family a little easier. And besides I’ve always wanted a big family. But today a new realization hit me as I watched Gary with his second oldest son, singing along to ‘The Last Goodbye’ (after a Tolkein marathon). What is it really like to be a mother?
I have no doubt that I will love the boys like they are my own and they will love me too but I didn’t experience their birth, didn’t tend to them as babies, didn’t watch them walk or talk for the first time and all those other milestones that parents eagerly lookout for. As I watched Gary cuddle with his son, I realized I could not come close to feeling what this man felt for his children, not because I don’t love them but because I have absolutely no idea what he feels for them. It’s not a quantity thing – its a quality thing. What is it like to see your child being born and over time watch that tiny nugget of a human being get bigger, be able to walk, talk, feed himself, dress himself? It suddenly occurred to me that ‘love’ was too simple a term to use for the complex emotion a parent must feel for his/her child although the meaning of ‘love’ is vague and open to individual interpretation. I felt sad thinking I may never get a chance in this lifetime to know this ‘love’or whatever it might be. I’m not sure if its all in my head or some unknown (maybe known?) hormonal reaction prompted by my ageing (and dying) 32 year old eggs that is making me think this way. Maybe this is my body’s last ditch effort at convincing me to get pregnant asap! Well not this year but even thought the chances decrease with each passing year, one can always hope.
25 Tuesday Nov 2014
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Hey guys check out my friend Gray Trimant’s blog! He writes poetry and fiction. He just started a series called “The Coming”. I personally think it’s pretty good. Why not give it a read and tell him what you think? Any comments and/or feedback is highly appreciated. Thank you in advance! 🙂
A solitary tear rolled down Lucy’s weathered and bruised face, the deep lines and creases of a life of hard living and drug abuse disguising her true age of 32, her matted dirty brown hair clinging to her brow as the fear etched a new pattern on her face. The man withdrew the needle from her arm and quietly left the dingy, poorly lit one bedroom apartment. Lucy clumsily dialed 911 from her cell phone. Her grip grew weaker when the operator came on the line and she didn’t have the strength to answer. She knew help was on its way but, as the life slipped from her eyes and body, she knew it would come too late. (To be continued on next post).
13 Sunday Jul 2014
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So cool!
Some of you may have seen this when I posted it last year as a monochromatic piece. I’ve since redrawn about a third of it and fully colored it in honor of this scene’s depiction in tonight’s episode of GAME OF THRONES. VERY EXCITED to see what they’ve done with my favorite scene.
13 Sunday Jul 2014
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I’m a broken man,
With broken wing,
Broken hope,
Broken dream,
Holding on to broken things,
With a broken past,
That’s breaking me.
