Happiness Is...

This afternoon I was asked to pick the topic for tonights writing.
I don't like being in charge unless I am in my vehicle....then I like to be leader of the pack. But for the most of it, I like to just sit back and I guess be lazy and let everyone else do all the hard work and I just follow.

I attended bingo tonight. I kept thinking...what should we write on? Trying to think back of our other writings, I didn't want to do a repeat...although if we did it quite some time ago, we may have a different perspective on things. I in a loss, went out for a smoke with a lady friend. Actually, I just go out and keep her company while she puffs away. Someday she hopes to quit, but I say when you are ready, you will do it.
I mentioned to her that I am in a journaling group. Hard to explain because people look at me with a caution look. You hear stories of people luring others in and getting information that they are not suppose to be dishing out. They don't understand our click...my family is understanding more of what I am experiencing.
So, Tootie said the word she would pick would be "happy-happiness-what is happy?"
Hmmm....I thought ok...but not really what I was searching for. Then i asked an elderly couple sitting next to me. Well, they are in their 60's. She was a hairdresser and he a factory worker. I asked them the same question I asked Tootie. I do not know their names but her word was "lilac" ... I looked at him and he said "sleep". Oh boy!!!
Next...I asked big Steve whom I graduated with and he just finished a college course. I wrote on a sheet of paper "If you were writing a journal tonight, what would your topic be"...he replied back by writing "fishing".
Ok...fishing??? then he mentioned some other word that went right over my head....forget it!!!
After bingo, a girl named Gail who used to live 2 houses away from me as we were growing up, went to grade school and graduated together stopped and chatted a bit. I asked her the same question I asked Tootie, the elderly couple & Steve and Gail's words were "housework, how I hate housework"...or "bingo...how I lost at bingo". None of these were really what I was looking for as our topic...
But, when I had to make a decision, I thought happiness would be a cheery one and what a way to end the night.
Here is my Happiness Is...
Sunday night my hubby was in bed still not up to par as he had been sick with the chills and fever over the weekend. BJ was upstairs in her room and I was sitting on the couch watching a movie. All of a sudden i heard a strange groan coming from the bedroom. I listened, thoughts went racing through my head and sat still listening for more. A few seconds later, another groan....now I get up to see what is the matter. I immediately thought of my hubby possibly having a stroke and can't get his speech out to be calling for me. I rushed into the bedroom, I turned on the ceiling light which is very bright and he always wakes up with it when turned on but this time he did not wake up. I went to my side of the bed. He has no covers on...I shake his arm and it is cold...very cold ... he still does not wake up. Has my hubby, my companion, my lover died on me??? Nooooo....I shake him harder and he opens his eyes. Whew!!! I told him he was making very strange sounds and he said he was dreaming...but could not remember of what. I was relieved and I told him to look at Reese...she had her head on my pillow and covered up to her neck with my blankets.
This is what Happiness Is...all about!!!

happiness

happiness is when you dont need for anything... want for anything
when you couldnt possibly think of another thing that could make you feel any better than you do in the moment when it occurs.


maybe happiness is a lie

no.. i knew happiness once.. intimately
wallowed in it like a pig in mud
didnt have a care in the world
just held on and rode the wave

happiness.. is fleeting

happiness is magic
but im no magician

happiness is
long brown hair in a loose braid down her back
swimming in my shirt
running down the hall
giggles and squeals
baxter at her heels
and me not far behind..

i knew happiness once.
i didnt take her for granted.

happiness is not something you can hold or keep.
but you can remember. 

Happiness is...

safety.  For me happiness comes from feeling and being safe.   I crave security and warm safe places.   I want to be where no one makes fun of me,  makes me feel stupid or small or unimportant.   I love my journal companions because they build me up and hold my hand in the dark.  I can fall backwards and they will catch me. 

My husband is my hero.  He's starting to fade away and thin out, but I hope to have him home full time with me and we can glean out bits and pieces of happiness from the tired flesh we are left with.   I adore him.   I want lots of time left with him. 

Happiness is the calm times when my son is healthy and doing well.  He's all over the place, but he still comes to me and hugs and welcomes me up from sleeping and fusses over me if I am sneezing or coughing.   "Are you okay MOM?  Do you need water?"  I pull threads of happiness from the difficult days and weave them together to keep our relationship strong.   


Happiness is a choice.   I remember realizing when I was ten, that I didn't have a smile.  I noticed other children smiled readily and pretty women did in the magazine ads.  It was about the time I considered makeup and lipstick and put some of my grandma's on.  I knew I was supposed to smile in the mirror,  so I tried it out.

It felt awkward and foreign to me.  Distant and unknown.  but I was going to smile at boys, so I had to practice.   The muscles hurt.  they wouldn't stay.  I had to stop and rest them.   I remember it so clearly.  I remember the muscles on my face turning up and stretching to make a happy face.   Then I tried to work on my eyes. They needed to learn how to sparkle and not dart off to the side.  I worked on holding eye contact in the mirror.  


  I chose to be happy.   I smiled.  and it worked.   Happiness popped into my life where it had not been before.

Happiness

Sometimes you got it and
sometimes you ain't.
The kind I like is lighthearted and gay,
no worries...

but it can also be the absence of its opposite.
I can't call that happy but...
until the real thing comes along ,
it will do.

The absence of the stone in the middle of my chest,
the burn that will rise to cause tears,
The sudden startle and adrenaline rush when I realize once again...
I'm not here, not altogether

The forgetfullness of those feelings
is my new happy...happiness
is
It's possible...I can get there
keep movin'...keep on movin'

Don't worry... Be

Just be.

Savory Fare

The smell!  That's what got him going. Yeah..something wet, sticky, and dank. His finger reached behind the wheels of the dumpster. He could feel the pebbly surface of the orange as it lay in the shadows. His fingers closed around it and one finger sunk into the mush up to a knuckle. No matter. He brought it to his face and inhaled the odor of rot. Squeezing now, some sticky juice dribbled down his arm onto his sleeve. He smeared the rest on his lips and rough beard where it hung in patches. Licking with his tongue he brought the fetid mass inside his mouth and let it lay there before he spit it across the alley.  Ah, that was good.  That felt like something!  Yes...that's what he was after.

The smell. Again...it got him going.  He found her body in the alley behind the dumpster. Her legs akimbo, panties down and shirt pushed high over her face. His fingers reached beyond her clothes and her skin was loose. It moved under his hand and a finger sunk into mush, all the way in. No matter . He brought his hand to his face and inhaled the odor of rot. Rotten blood. Again, squeezing now, blood dripping and oozing down his arm onto his clothes. He smeared more on his lips and harsh stubble where it stuck in red patches. Licking his tongue on his lips he brought them closer until he could suck her mass into his mouth. He chewed before he inhaled and he spit it with all his might through the air where it hit a wall and slowly slid to the ground. Ah. That was good. That felt like something!  Yes, that was what he was after.

The light from the door glowed casting shadows into the alley as he paused before returning to work. He looked around the busy kitchen .  The smell! That's what got him going. Yeah, something cooking, fresh and earthy.  Something spicy and flavorful!  He could hardly wait to get back.  He moved to the sink where he rolled up his sleeves, his fingers wrapped around the soap and he felt the lather bubble against his skin. No matter. He brought the fluff to his nose and inhaled the ivory richness. Slicking it off his arms he drew them through the warm water on the way to the towel. He brought it to his lips and once around his face. He must remember to shave tomorrow, he thought. He leaned down and took a drink under the faucet. From the counter he lifted his hat, placed it on his head and spat into the sink. He took the big ladle and dipped it into the boiling soup. Cooling it with pursed lips, he drank.  Ah, that was good. That felt like something...yes! That was what he was after.

"Chef?' His eyes met those of the sous chef, Andre.  "What is it', he barked. Timidly, the young man took the folded newspaper from under his arm. "Look, Chef, the review is in!  He thinks you deserve the Michelin! In fact, let me quote, ....'a redolent repast with depths I've not encountered before. This is a chef's chef, a master! Born with the innate tools now honed to perfection. A winner!" The youth glowed with excitement.

Ah...yes!  That was what he was after.

limp dick

He stood over her body, dazed, smiling, a tear rolling down his grimy cheek. The knife still in his hand.

He had watched her for weeks.  He knew all her quirks… every mannerism… and her route home from school.  He had to be sure she was just right.  She looked so vulnerable and sweet. She was blonde… slightly overweight… and slumped when she walked. She had turned and smiled at him once. Laughing. Just like the last one.

And then a flash of Mama’s face blinded him. She was laughing at him. Pointing at his small flaccid penis. His face contorted and he stabbed again. Then he heard Mama cooing in his ear, ‘It’s all right, honey. Come to Mama. Mama will make it all better.' Her hand rubbing him…

He ran his finger over the bloody edge of the blade, thinking about how she looked just like Mama.   Then licked it clean. This one won’t ever…

Vermillion

The blade cut across guts. Liver, stomach, bile duct. Blood oozed. Blood leaked. Blood poured. All forgiving, hiding the crimes of yesteryear with its leisurely flow. Washing away sins committed in the sands of time. No hurry. All the time in the world at its disposal. He wiped the blade on her shirt and stood back, allowing the body to slowly slide to the ground. A streak of red marked its progress.

His knife was stained.

“On thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,
Which was not so before.”

His hands were stained.

“Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood
Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather
The multitudinous seas incarnadine,
Making the green one red.”

His heart…where was it?

They took it away. They took away his childhood. They took away his innocence. They took away all the beauty of the world. They took away his heart. They cut it out from deep within his barely breathing body and they left a hole inside. Empty and hollow. A hole he had been trying to fill for the past twenty years.

He looked down at the bleeding corpse at his feet. Her dress was soaked in blood. A little trickle made its way out of her mouth. Such beauty. He looked down at the orphan waif. Tattered rags for a dress. Palms scratched and torn. Such innocence. He looked down. She was smiling. In death she found peace. He looked down till he could bear it no more. And then he walked away, the hole where his heart was to be, a little less empty.

Oh I wish.

He followed her down the alleyway, against his will, against his better judgement.  It was too early.  This one looked well fed and clean.   This girl had a home to go to.  He knew it.   He felt it in his bones.  

Turn back...  Stop.   Change direction.   He forced his feet forward, one in front of the other.   He shut his eyes and remembered his mother's warm hands on his forehead.    Find me one, she had said.   Bring me one home.  He dared not disobey.   He would not face her empty handed like yesterday.  He could barely walk straight after yesterday's beatings.  He shivered at the touch of the wall on his shoulder.

He hated his life, but he saw no way out.   Day after day he walked the city, looking for strays.  As the murders had increased in number, more and more parents were guarding their offspring.  He came back later and later in the night, and sometimes empty handed.   She was insatiable, a malignant force that didn't flicker or wane. 

Sometimes he longed for freedom to rest and catch his breath.   He longed for the cravings to dampen.  He felt driven and out of control of his destiny.   Like a fly twisting in the spider's web, he followed the girl till he caught up in the darkest doorway.  He felt stuck and squirmed in a moment of free will.

He grabbed her from behind and muffled her screams with a ready damp handkerchief.  She swooned and collapsed to the ground.  His sweat and fear dripped onto her pale dress.  Oh my God!  He saw her face for the first time, full on.  She was an angel of innocence and beauty.  Golden ringlets cascaded down her neck.  Her cheeks were rosy and round like a cherub in a painting.  His groin stirred with lust and desire.  He wanted her so badly.  He lifted up her skirt. 


Then  he dropped it in disgust as he was torn in two.  Mama wants her first.  He could have her after mama was done.   The thought of Mama made him cry in sorrow at the poor girl's fate.   In a sudden act of courage and defiance,  he sliced her throat quickly in one stroke and hurried away into the night.  shaking with grief and nausea.

A few doors down, he slit his own and slumped to the ground, and lay still waiting for death to come.   It came very slowly.