Hysterically Heddy

It's past my bed time, I'm drinking terrible wine mixed with diet orange soda, and my face is killing me. What better time for a random BLOG POST Post post … That was supposed to be the word "post" echoing like in the cartoons … Anyway, it's Black History Month! Which [I know it might be weird because I'm super white] I get very excited over every year [though I think it should be in January instead of the shortest fricking month of the year, and MLK's birthday is in January and there could be the COOLEST celebration ever, but no one cares what I think]. I got to thinking recently that I only participate in the month by taking other people's research and reading it, and enjoying seeing my friends of colour celebrate their history. I, however, don't change anything about what I do. I asked a woman I work with how she celebrates Black History Month, and I think I surprised her, but thankfully she wasn't offended by my curiosity. I worry about a...

Would you hold my hand? It's not as strong as it once had been. With sunken cheeks I think of the weeks …  I think of the years … with our children With sunken cheeks I feel the tears Our best laid plans of mice and men … We put our future in the drawer By the sink, with the odds and ends  Twist ties. The bottle opener. Rubber bands. We had a good life, we think,  As we try to drink it all in … slowly...  Beg for time to temper it down I always thought I'd be around … Graduations and birthday cakes,  Sunflowers and protein shakes … Sounds of you asleep next to me, The smell of their baby hair ... The window closed to the chill from the season, I still feel the shadows closing in, I feel it begin. The best laid plans of mice and men … Tossed gingerly along the winter wind. With sunken cheeks I stand up straight And bid the time to wait … just wait.

I used to fall down a lot. Like, literally. Every damned winter. Didn't matter the shoes I wore, or the effort I put into being graceful. Gravity and mother nature wanted to bust my ass. I remember this one particular winter there was a guy who was shoveling the sidewalks on the apartment complex I lived in. I didn't know him very well, and definitely didn't know his name. Just some guy, seemed nice enough. Quiet. Kept to himself, at least as far as I was concerned.  That morning, I was awoken by him scraping his damned shovel against the sidewalk, as if he could WILL the last remnants of ice from the slabs of concrete that served as a walkway between buildings. I just remember being grumpy about it. It was YEARS ago, and I've slept since then. I got ready for work, as displeased with life as I always was, and walked towards my car.  At this time, I probably didn't have proper shoes for the winter snow, and I used to wear plastic bags over my shoes as I wal...