Category: writing

Quiet…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay2 Comments
Quiet is not a word typically synonymous for our home, by any stretch of the word. Our dogs bark. Our youngest screams and yells… Sometimes we yell too. We love music. When we watch movies, the sound is high enough to really feel it. 
Then, though, a stretch of days come that surprise us with their quiet. 
Peaceful words. 
Calm emotions. 
Currents of love and compassion. 
For that brief moment of time there is no excess noise, no tension. 
Quiet. 
We’ve had a quiet week. It’s been lovely. I have read an entire book. I am caught up on freelance deadlines. We’ve had soft conversations, tender snuggles and smiles. Lots of smiles. 
This week, I’m really loving the quiet… {though my blog is not…} 
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When Seasons Change…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay2 Comments
I am participating in 5 Minute Friday at the gypsy mama…
START
It’s the wet in the air which reminds me that even the cooler mornings are replaceable. Interchangable. 
Between my fingers i grasp the fading tree blossoms, giving way to budding leaves. I want to be sad that our twelve second spring is fleeting- but how can I be? 
Spring paves the way for longer evenings, for neon extended sunsets. 
For growth and beauty, sustainable meals adorning family dinner tables. 
The cycle continues, and inside my own blossoms wither as I change. 
As i grow. 
I feel, on some limbs, myself becoming more of who I’m meant to be. 
Or closer, somehow. 
The world… This world… My world, everyday, reflects more and more of the way God is molding and shaping me. 
Peaceful moments will still give way to hard times, to dark days, to desperately feeling hours- but no matter the season, one thing will forever remain true. The sun always rises. The dark will always flee from the light. Best of all, once that warm sunlight touches my face- I will always see that I am better somehow- not in spite of my life’s winter, but because of it.
It always comes back to gratitude… 
STOP
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The Hard Love…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay5 Comments

The hard love is telling your daughter the truth. The truth about where she came from, what she’s been through and what she’s seen. Even when she’s small, and fragile… because, it is her truth, and she has flashes of memories she may not understand. 
The hard love is telling your children you are disappointed in their far too grown up choices, and loving them anyway. 
The hard love is the love whose heart breaks when your kid’s hearts break. 
The hard love is the love that candidly looks at yourself in the mirror, every morning, with a pair of honest goggles. It is the love that looks at your insides too. 
This is the love that can one day look your husband in the eyes, years after fighting, and crying and aching and finally- forgiveness… It is the love that gets me to the point of no longer wondering what she looks like, or what her perfume smells of. This is the love that kept me sane when he would travel for work. 
The hard love is love, period… It is the take-everything-from-me sort of love, because the person on the receiving end deserves it. 
Even when they choose the easy love route back… 
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Sleep with me…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay11 Comments

This week, my chosen writing prompt from Mama Kat’s workshop is: 3.) Describe a phone call you won’t forget.

There are only a handful of phone moments that really rank in my forever memory savings account. One of those would be the call where i found out my grandmother passed away, and another would be two days later when my mom died. Those aren’t great calls though, and I want to write about something great… 


I had a boyfriend once who could honestly be summed up into one giant phone call I’ll never forget. Our relationship was long distance and the bulk of that was over the phone. Every call held moments bigger than so many of my days, before him. Deep, theological conversations; political rants and considerations; secrets; dreams and wishes… You name it, good or bad, and it resided within the miles of wires which stretched between us. From “hello” to “goodbye” I held magic within my fingers and I grasped it, willing it to last forever, though it never did… 


Please allow a small sidenote here: his voice was the sort of voice that could make a girl’s heart, (or at least my heart) dip in that way that a deep drop in a road might make one’s belly. His “hey” whenever I’d answer, drawn out and sexy, would open up the cage of butterflies within me and they’d flutter and fly for however many hours we’d talk. His voice and the things (most, anyway) that came out of his mouth were my addiction. I could barely make it through the day, waiting for his call. 


This one particular night, he called later than normal. I wasn’t feeling well and had just had a particularly horrible day at work. I sipped hot tea for the first hour that I listened to his boyish laugh as he explained his day. He had a thing for chuck norris, whom I can’t stand, and I listened to his little CN anecdotes as well as his perception of the most recent rerun of Walker, Texas Ranger. He listened to my scratchy voice cry about my day, about my sore throat and about how tired I was. He never judged my whining. Instead he soothed, and then he softly spoke of dreams and our future together, of how incredibly much he loved me and why… 
And my eyes grew heavy… 
For the first time in days I felt warm and comfortable, and yet without me speaking a word of that- he sensed it. 


“Sleep with me.” Gentle, quiet words came. 


I wish I could. I wish you were here. That you could just hold me. I miss you. 


“I may not be there, but I’m here- right now- to the best of my ability. Sleep with me. I’ll hold you this way. I won’t hang up, I won’t let you go.” 


The one time I woke up, hours later, he was still on the line and breathing sweetly… 

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On Distance…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay9 Comments

While i realize that I already posted today- I fell in love with this challenge. (that i just learned of today!)

GO

When I think of places… beautiful, far off places, my heart swoons. In such a respect- distance feels dreamy and romantic. full of hope. promising.
when I think of people though… dear friends who are far from me geographically- my heart aches. I ache. A drive which could fill hours feels like it may as well span oceans.
When I think of relationships- my heart cracks.
Distance.
Someone in the next room yet reaching out to them feels as impossible as stepping over, onto the next continent.
Distance.
Perspective.
Always. It ALWAYS comes back to perspective.
An end in sight can hold relief. Fear. Bitter sweet. Sweetly bitter. Bitter.
Between my heart and God- I want no distance. I want to be there, one reach away. Or in His arms.
Or something.
Anything that doesn’t feel like distance.

And i want to no longer dream of traveling off, into the foreign cultures and sunsets. I want to go. to do. I want dreams to become living. I want distance, of any sort- to be my new four letter word.

No more distance between where my heart longs to travel.
No more distance between other coastal friends… other state friends.
No more distance between him and i. her and i.
No more distance between myself and God…

STOP

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