A group of us went to the cemetery to soak in the Fall foliage and shoot some pictures. We landed there and went our separate ways. It was nice. I found myself making stories. There are patterns. Identity. Who are you when you are gone? Defined by relationships. I think about that Beatles line, “And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love …
“Want to go outside?” he says to the dog in his sweet still little boy voice. Not so little, but it’s how he talks to the dog. And I hold onto the illusion that I could just scoop him up in my arms. When we stand toe to toe he starts with his flat palm measuring his height and then compares it to mine. I think he cheats with that …
I was a manic pixie dream girl… -Laurie Penny “Men grow up expecting to be the hero of their own story. Women grow up expecting to be the supporting actress in somebody else’s….”
Text and voice: Elouise Oyzon Music: John Oyzon cinnamonboy Someone said, “Tell me a story.” And I did. Sentence at a time in a chat window. I saved the story as post. There was a point where I tried my hand at audio posts. My brother, John (aka Beau) took my voice and made music with it. It is sweet. I think I will take his music and my voice …
I think you are the only one who comes here. I am glad you do. Oh! I am trying to get old blog posts moved here. Found comments from you, and Bridget, and Elsie, and Liz, and my family, and…and…and… This used to be a happenin’ space. I should do something about that. 🙂
Does this blog skin make me look fat? Trying on different looks. It’s something to do while I try to get the posts of the last ten years in order. It’s been a while. I can’t even find my bloggeversary. Looking through the wall of text, I found many friends. This used to be a happening place. Maybe I can find my writing mojo under these superficial changes.
A bit rumbly in the tumbly. I don’t usually envision Pooh when I start with caveman, but there it is. In an effort to save my life, I’m giving the Paleo diet a shot. Hence the rumbly tumbly bit. It’s only day three of this. Was advised to give it at least thirty days. So I shall. Before and after shots? Sure. Tomorrow. I promise. In the meantime, some …
Bits of life in one hundred and forty characters. Life in haiku; in bite-size digestible chunks. Low social media profile of late. Elaine was worried. It’s okay. Winter is for hibernation. I am limping along, stingy with my reserves.
I think I could love again.
When traveling it seems my soul lags behind. It’s been different since the event. Sluggish, my body follows at a distance from where my mind believes it should be. But maybe it is catching up. I am awakening. Spring is coming. It is. And I will walk barefoot in the grass with all the grace I can muster.
