“Dillon?” She whispered. To herself? When he didn’t respond right away, she convinced herself that she said it only in her head.
“Yes.”
She rolled over on the air mattress to face him. Well, his back. “You can’t be comfortable in the floor.”
He rolled over, facing her. “This is comfortable, compared to.”
“Compared to what?”
He smiled despite the total darkness, “the front seat of the SUV. Back seat of a cruiser. On a boat,” he thought. “I kinda liked that. If it hadn’t been for the bugs. A cave. On top of an old school bus once. No sleep at all.” A question was pounding in his brain. He pursed his lips. Let out a long sigh, “are you stayin’?”
In the complete darkness of the room, could she answer that question? Did she have an answer? It took her so long to speak that he thought she had fallen asleep. “This was hard. Not because I had such a great life. The last 2 years was a version of hell on earth. But,” she stopped, tracing the hem of the sheet between her fingers. “This feels like failure. I’ve had to come runnin’ back home to daddy.” She snubbed, “I’m a 50 year old woman, runnin’ back home with her tail between her legs. I can just hear the town gossips now. You know the stories will be flyin’.”
“That old crone Smith has already started.”
“Y Dillon Pace, you would call one of your voters, someone you’ve sworn to serve and protect, a crone?” Evie asked playfully.
He stifled a laugh, “only to you.”
They both laughed. “She always was a battle axe. I tried to befriend her once ‘cause all the kids made fun of her. I felt sad for her. Dad told me, in no uncertain terms, stay the hell away from that devil. As you know, dad rarely cussed.
“The years have only made her worse. I did a wellness check on her a few months ago. She chased me with a broom.”
Evie started dying laughing, “a broom?”
He acted wounded, “how’s that funny?”
“I just got a mental picture of her. Even when we were little, she didn’t have a single tooth in her head. Never wore a bra. I can see her chasin’ you, broom over her head, a maniacal toothless grin, boobs flapping wildly, down the steps to your SUV. Please tell me you had your dash cam runnin’?”
“Oh, you want to watch?”
“With the upmost joy.” The darkness filled the void. “Dillon?”
“Hmm,” he more moaned than said.
“What were you doing on top of a school bus?”
“Ask Bradley.” Came a sleepy, yet playful reply.
The room was suddenly filled with the soft sound of breathing. He was asleep. The sound of his breathing was even, steady. Soon Evie was sound asleep as well.
I think it’s safe to post this poem on my blog since it’s been over a year and I haven’t heard back from the contest I submitted it to. Then, I read that the parent company of Redbox is filing for bankruptcy. Which just happens to be the same company that publishes the Chicken Soup books.
This is also kinda of a reblog. I reworked it for the above mentioned contest.
God, Chico, and Me
I’ve come to the realization that I’m going to be alone the rest of my life.
Every now and then, this will cause me strife.
~
I have been alone far too long.
I don’t know if someone else can sing my song.
~
Someone else’s song, could I learn?
Each others life, we could upturn.
~
It might be nice to have someone to see a drive-in movie with.
A patio lunch, good food to sniff.
~
Someone to share lives days.
Come what they may.
~
Do I really want someone all up in my bis?
Running around in a fiz.
~
Mostly, I’m okay.
Attention, I don’t pay.
~
God’s got my back.
With his help, I can pack.
~
“Get a dog,” many have said.
Don’t put that idea in my head.
~
They shed. They stink. They cost money.
Now, all my railing seems kinda funny.
~
After a divorce, Cheekie was going to be homeless.
I couldn’t let him go to the pound, none-the-less.
~
He’s high-strung, needy, and neurotic.
At least he’s not demonic.
~
Chihuahua’s don’t fair well at the pound.
So into my home, space I found.
~
Sometimes Chico is a pill.
I can’t imagine life without him, still.
~
When I need a good cry,
his fur easily dries.
~
Chico doesn’t care about mental distress.
To him, all things I can confess.
~
He doesn’t care if I don’t wear make-up,
if I’m feeling subpar. Or feel the need to burp.
~
Hairs a mess.
Don’t want to dress.
~
As long as he gets walked, food, and cuddles –
he endures the muddles.
~
He’s been worth every penny spend. Every sleepless night.
Even the turmoil he caused when he ran away, giving me a fright.
~
Much like God, he listens to me intently.
But he will not correct me gently.
~
Or light my path in the dead of night.
Or drive away lives unsightly frights.
~
Though, he does create quite the stir
when creatures unknown ruffle his fur.
~
I do wish he would learn how to mow.
Or do laundry, or sew.
~
He gives me unmeasured joy.
He’s my good little boy.
~
I dated one man that said, ‘it’s me or the dog.’
Bye, bye, cog.
~
Chico’s been in my life 8 years and counting.
With love, he is always surrounding.
~
He’s been my furry muse on many occasions.
It’s going to break my heart when he’s removed from my equation.
~
I have amazing friends to help me see.
But at the end of the day; when I lay down my head, it’s God, Chico and me.
Evelyn wasn’t sure she heard what she thought she was hearing. She had been crying so hard that everything was a blur. There it was again, who was knocking at her front door? She looked around for her cell phone. It was lying in the floor, still connected to Dillon?
“Is this thing still connected?” She spoke into the phone not really expecting an answer.
Dillon’s calm voice replied, “yes.”
She got up walking and talking at the same time. “I think someone’s at my front door.”
“I think it’s me.”
She opened the door and there he was holding two pillows. She tried her best to smile. He took the cell phone from her turning it off. Turning his off as well. The door silently locked behind him. He placed both phones in his pocket before picking Evie up packing her into the bedroom, to the air mattress on the floor. She didn’t fight him. He placed one pillow on the mattress. The other in the floor beside it.
Her mind was racing with a thousand questions. Why had he come back when she told him she needed to be alone? Did she really need to be alone? This was nice having him here. An old friend. A sheriff.
Her mind wanted him to leave. It wanted to be alone in its sorrow. It didn’t want him to see her like this. She was supposed to be the strong one. She reminded herself. She WAS the strong one. This, she could handle on her own. Right? Her body on the other hand was tired from nights of not being able to sleep. It felt good to feel safe. And she did feel safe. But she couldn’t get used to this type of security. Oh, she could, her heart told her, she could all too quickly.
“Dillon?”
He waited a moment before he answered her. “Yes.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?” The sound of his voice was comforting.
“For caring.”
She didn’t object to him being here. If she asked him to leave, he would. Right here is where he felt he needed to be. Right here. Making her feel safe. Right here is where he wanted to be. If he allowed himself to feel it.
Right here is where she needed him to be. She could get used to the empty house tomorrow.
Evelyn looked into her empty fridge. She didn’t buy any food. How stupid of her. She paced around her house for a while, took a shower, before finally laying down on her makeshift bed. She rolled over staring at the clock. Midnight. Her stomach growled reminding her it was empty. The delightful tune of her cell phone filled the house. She answered it in her sweetest voice. “Hello Dillon.”
He wanted to say hello my love but dared not. He finally managed to say, “everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything is fine.” She let out a long sigh.
“But?” Just as she could read him, he had his moments when he could read her.
“I’m so daft.” She giggled.
He knew she couldn’t see him smile. “Forget something?”
“Don’t laugh at me,” she said playfully.
He protested, “I’m not.”
“No but you’re smiling. I can hear it in your voice.”
“Guilty. Go look in the cabinet beside the fridge.”
Without saying a word she did, where she found a paper bag. She didn’t think anyone used paper bags anymore. She sat in the floor, pulling items out of the bag. Inside were two ready to eat tuna salad lunches, a bag of chips, a couple pops, a box of crackers, a box of raisin cakes, and a chocolate rose.
“Evelyn?” He didn’t hear her rattle in the bag anymore. “Evelyn?” Where was she? “Don’t cry.”
“I will cry if I want to.” She snuffed. “When did you do this?”
Was she angry? Oh no, he did the wrong thing. He took a deep breath. Be a man. He encouraged himself. “I had Deputy Tolliver stop and pick up a few things I knew you, I remembered,” he corrected himself, “that you liked.”
She snuffed louder, “was it Deputy Tolliver’s idea to get the rose?”
Yes blame it on him. His mind screamed. His heart said, no you did it face the music. “No, I.” He hesitated. “I.”
“Thank you.” She sobbed.
“Please don’t cry.” He was fighting his own tears. As if he hadn’t already cried enough tonight. She did say thank you. That did mean she wasn’t mad? Right?
“You always were trying to take care of me.”
She couldn’t reach through the phone and smack him for saying this, so he was going to say it. “You wouldn’t let me.”
“No, I didn’t, did I.” He was amazed. She didn’t fight him down. “So are you going to have dinner with me or do I dine alone?”
“If anything was open, I’d come get you and take you to dinner.”
“I wouldn’t let you.”
“Why?” He was slightly hurt.
“I’m dressed for bed and you’re in the bed.”
“How do you know that?”
“Well, now you’re getting up going to the kitchen so that we can have dinner together.” She giggled through her tears.
“Evelyn,” he sternly reminded her that she hadn’t answered his question.
“I heard the gentle hum of that big box fan.”
“I could be sittin’ in the kitchen with a fan on.”
“You could be but you’re not.”
Here goes, he took a deep breath. “I’ve missed you Evie.”
“I was very hurt when you didn’t come to my wedding. I sent you an invitation.”
Don’t tell her the truth. LIE! He pushed down the knot in his throat long enough to say, “couldn’t.”
“Did you even read the letter?”
A million times, was what he wanted to say. “Hmm humph,” was what he was able to squeeze out.
“I can just see you now standing on the yacht with my lavender brides’ maids dress on: well, I might have for the sake of taste got you a lavender suit: your blond hair being tossed by the ocean breeze.” She sighed. “I would have had to have your shoes custom make.”
He could see himself standing on that yacht but as the groom.
“This tuna thingy is good. What are you eating?”
“Peanut butter and crackers.”
They continued eating in silence, “we make a good pair don’t we?”
How was he going to answer that? He wanted to say we could make a great pair. Even, I would like to find out. After several minutes, she let a light moan escape.
“Evie, don’t fall asleep on the kitchen floor.”
“Why not?” She more groaned than said.
“Go to bed.” She said nothing. “Evie?” There was nothing but silence. “I should have invited you to stay with me until you got some furniture.”
“I wouldn’t have.”
“Stubborn.” He teased.
“What’s your point? You are the king of stubborn.”
“I learned from the Queens father. And that is my point.”
“K.” She sounded like a child. Standing next to him, she looked like a little girl.
“Evie?”
“Workin’ on it Mr. Pushy Pants.”
He chuckled lightly. God how he loved her and he knew it. If the last 30 years had taught him anything, it had taught him that he loved her. He heard something click, followed by deafening silence. Then he heard another click.
“Evie?”
“Hmmm.”
“I’m gonna say goodnight and you’re gonna hang up the phone.”
“No,” she hissed. What was this? “No.”
“No, you’re going to talk me to sleep.”
“Really,” he teased.
“Hmm humph.”
He really wanted to say I love you. “Evie, I can come over if you want me too. You don’t have to be alone tonight.” He thought he heard her crying. “Evie?”
“I need to get used to this.” She was crying.
“Why?”
She snubbed, “I can’t do this.”
“Evie?”
“Not tonight.” There was an awkward moment of silence. “Goodnight.”
“Evie!” He said in a panic. All he heard was silence. Did she hang up her phone? There weren’t any of those beeping noises that are associated with a busy or disconnected signal. “Goodnight Evie?” He finally heard her again still crying. She hadn’t closed the phone. He looked at the clock it was one o’clock. He looked down at himself. He was wearing scrub pants. Good enough, he told himself as he threw on a t-shirt.
This is the second idea for the class I’ve been asked to teach. Class length: 45 minutes. Class size: currently unknown. Complete project as pictured can’t be completed in 45 minutes. In the picture above, the leaves have been traced with paint. I ran out of time. 😢
The aspect I really like about this project is that you can do it for any season. Our conference is in the fall. Participants can make a fall, Halloween, Christmas, or a more spring theme if they choose.
I chose Halloween.
Things I don’t like about this project: hot glue guns. Don’t get me wrong, I think hot glue is the ticket. But each person is going to need a glue gun to use. We might run into the power issue that developed from my class last year. I tried regular glue; it didn’t dry fast enough. Also tried a mini stapler, it was too cumbersome. Materials: this project requires a lot of stuff.
Materials list: 8 inch plate, glue gun and extra sticks, tissue roll (toilet paper), construction paper, scissors, rulers, markers, pompoms or foam craft balls, paint, paint brushes.
Instructions: plug up your glue gun so it can be getting hot. Each wreath needs approximately 10 tissue rolls. Using a ruler mark 1/2 inch sections down the roll. Use scissors to cut the tissue roll across but at an up angle. Lay plate on flat surface (face down) place two rolls of petals (cut tissue rolls) around the plate. When you are happy with how they look, start glueing at the end of the petals. As you work your way around, it’s okay to glue the petals together toward their centers. In the end, it will make your wreath stronger. As you glue, you may discover you need more petals. I did. No problem. I had several left over. The test wreath only got two flowers. I used 5 petals, in a star pattern to make each flower. When you are happy with how they look, glue them together where the petals meet. Pick out which season you want your wreath to represent, choose 2 sheet of construction paper for that season. I chose Halloween and used black and orange. Lay the flower on the construction paper, trace. This doesn’t have to be perfect. You need a little overhang to glue your flower too. Once you cut out your flowers, glue your star pattern to the paper. Then glue to wreath. Make sure you have them where you think they look best before you glue. Once flowers are on, glue pompom to the center. I didn’t have black or orange pompoms so I had to paint them.
If you have time, paint rim of flowers. You can match the paper if you would like. I chose to paint mine the opposite color.
Sheriff Dillon Pace climbed into his SUV. He hated to leave her alone. “God,” he prayed, “protect her.” It had been 30 years since he’d said any kind of prayer.
She was here. She was back in Sunshine Valley. He didn’t remember the drive to his house. All he could think about was her. None of those feelings went away. They were pulsing under his skin. For 30 years, they had been building, boiling under the surface. He had convinced himself that she didn’t share his feelings. But his head couldn’t persuade his heart.
When he had made sure he was alone, he knelt beside his bed: “God, forgive me. I’m so sorry she was beaten.” The tears began to flow. “But I’m so thrilled she’s home.”
Thirty years of loneliness, sadness, bitterness, and turmoil flooded his heart. These were soul cleansing tears that flowed freely down his face. He didn’t even try to fight them. With each tear that fell, it felt like a brick was falling from a wall. A high wall, creating a cloud of dust as they fell. A lump caught in his throat but he couldn’t stop. When he was finally able to compose himself, he was exhausted and tearless. Why was it so hard to be around her? He was so happy that she was home. Part of him wished her home was with him.
He stumbled to the porch. Through the moonlight he saw Teka playing. Teka. How was he going to tell her about Teka? A million thoughts filled his head about her. About them. As if there was or had ever been a them.
Talk about knocking the air out of a body. All of a sudden if seemed as if there wasn’t any gravity and he was floating from the porch. When indeed had he lost his faith? He had to be honest with himself, he knew.
“Come to church tomorrow.”
“Are you gonna sing?” He studied her face for a moment.
She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know if I can.”
He wanted to pick her up and hold her in his arms. In his mind, he could see himself reaching over, picking her up and sitting her on his lap. He wanted to feel the slight pressure her tiny body would exert on his lap. He wanted the scent of her perfume to flood his senses. Stop it! Stop it! He warned himself. “I left all my numbers on the fridge. If you need me, call me.” He fought the lump in his throat. “Even if you hear bats in the attic.”
She laughed. Every laugh no matter how big or small was always genuine. “I’m not afraid of bats. Neither is Bessie.”
“Bessie?”
“My 22 pistol, it lives under my pillow.”
“What pillow?” He playfully questioned.
“Oh,” she gasped, “you’re right.” As if he had told her something she didn’t already know and continued laughing.
He watched her laugh. Oh it pained him to think about how much he’d missed her. That was why he was angry with God, among other things, because God let her leave some 30 years ago and he’d been too scared to stop her.
“Please call me, for anything.” His voice was full of emotion.
“If you get worried about me, call me. You have my number.”
“Very well,” he got up to leave.
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” She smiled, “Dillon,” she called after him. The sound of her voice caused his heart to skip a beat. He turned to face her. “Thanks for the vine.”
I’ve been asked to teach a class at a conference. Class size; unknown. Time: 45 minutes.
First timed project:
Looks like fun. List of supplies: canvas, sharpies, rubbing alcohol, spray bottle. Instructions: use sharpies to do what you want to a piece of canvas. Draw a picture. Or just go hog wild with scribbles. Your choice. Picture from Pinterest.First layer of marker. Sprayed with rubbing alcohol. Dry time 10 minutes.Second layer of markers. Splashed rubbing alcohol straight from bottled. Dry time 10 minutes. Third layer of markers. Splashed rubbing alcohol from bottle. Dry time 10 minutes.
Concerns: messy. This is being done inside. A lot of dead time and I’m not a Chatty Cathy.
Poetry & More 