AUTUMN AIR

The grey clouds are dense highest up, edged in white fluff, lying on top of clear baby blue sky.  Wind gusts surge the palm trees and drops of rain are picking up speed, as they land on my writing pad.  The summer storms came late this year, but one more crack of thunder and I will reluctantly be forced inside. 

   Fall is brand new with the sun setting earlier.  My favorite days are finally in sight.  The ones with long nights.

RELATED SISTERS

One day my sister told me a funny story about her comical self.  This is what happened. 

   It was a Saturday and she was forgoing the full makeup routine to do some errands for mother after her knee replacement surgery.

   Just before running into the grocery store, Lorraine looks in the mirror and decides a little makeup would prudent.  She dots both of her under eyes with whitish concealer.  Carefully, she creates an upside down arch from one side to the opposite corner of each eye.

   Now, typical for both of us sisters, in a heart beat she gets distracted, and forgets to blend it in.  The tiny white circles dry exactly where she placed them, beneath her eyes. 

   Then she proceeds to shop under the harsh fluorescent lights in the grocery store.  Unbeknown st to her, the unfinished eye makeup is welcoming lots of extremely puzzled looks from strangers.  

   It wasn't until she walks through Mom's front door, bags in hand, that she realizes why the other shoppers were staring.  As we all know mother does not mix her words.

   "Lorraine I appreciate your help so very much but you look ridiculous.  What are you wearing?  Is that a shirt or a necklace?  And go look in the mirror there is something wrong with your makeup."

   Well after last night, if we didn't know I was related to my sister, we do now.
 
   We spent the evening at an exclusive club.  Smoky lights morph their colors while masked silhouettes fuel the imagination and sexy tunes play a steady beat in my head.  Shortly after arriving, Chase went to buy cigars and I freshen up my kisser.

    I pop a mint, then carefully line my lips, sans glasses and mirror, while lounging on the low lit couch.

   Three hours later I look in the mirror after arriving home and turn to Chase in utter disbelief, and stare.

   "What?"  He says, instantly defensive by the scowl in my eyes.  Turns out I had carefully lined my lips with a brown eyebrow pencil. 

    I thought people were staring because I looked hot.

    Wrong again.

THE WHITE FLAG

She is simply waiving the white flag and he thinks it is a second honeymoon.  Oh brother.

FORGETTIN YOUR SHOES

Mom is always puzzled when people forget their shoes at her house after a party. 

    She may have a point with this one.

DON'T LET HER EYES GET TO YOU

The eyes really are the window to the soul, revealing a lofty glance at our essence.  Eyes consider themselves.  They watch the world through a varying light of day and again when the moon glows over deep dark shades of night.  

   Others behold us, when they look us in the eyes.

    I was barely five years old, freckle faced and interested the first time I heard about my eyes. This is what happened.

   Mother wants all of us children to be musically inclined.  She asks dad to buy a piano and of course he does.  The piano arrives in a huge box, smelling of new pressed cardboard and excitement.  Mother has to open both of the front doors, to get it in.  I watch from the above balcony in delight.  Cool, a piano.  

   The following Tuesday afternoon we have to get dressed up after school.  Not cool.  Then me and my sisters Lucy and Lorraine pile in the green Buick, for the ride to A House of Melody.

  All three of us will be taking privately tutored piano and voice lessons.

   Sitting side by side in the green Buick our legs look the same all brown as berries donning white bobby socks and clean Maryjane patent leather shoes, may as well be going to Sunday school.  Not sure why Mother has us so gussied up, oh well. 

   Driving the tree lined streets of Coral Gables we soon arrive at the pretty brick building then follow Mother inside and quietly watch as she greets the owner.  After a few moments of chat my sisters go off with their teachers and Mother waits with me because my music instructor is still with a student.

   Trying my best to sit still and wait patiently, (fifty years later still not my strong suit) I hear a guitar strumming down the hall  Nice.

   Soon, a lovely woman in a flowing pastel dress and piled high blonde hair appears.  Soft spoken and kind, my Mother introduces me.

  " Miss. Elizabeth please meet my daughter Ivey Mae."  The young woman gently smiles in return and reaches to take my hand.

   "Hello Ivey Mae.  How old are you?" she asks.

    "I am five."  I say in return.   

   Saying nothing else, she stares at me and starts to smile bigger, as I watch her in the same.   Then I hear Mother say,

   "Don't let her eyes get to you."
      

GOLDEN YEARS

Don't tell me it isn't fantastic to be middle aged.

    I learned the moon is a star.

    I saw my first shooting star.

    And finally.  I met a man I don't think is attractive. 

  

THE INFAMOUS ROADTRIP-Part one

One special spring a few years back, our family air was marked in young love.  My parents first Grandchild got engaged and we were thrilled. 

   Her bridal shower was three hours away in another county. As to be expected the McFarland women gathered up for the exciting road trip, that now stands infamous in our related history.  A story to be told time and time again, I'm sure.  Future generations of McFarland relatives will here about 'The Vomit Wagon' and 'The Hurl Hotel'.

   And this is just recounting sentiments of the return trip home.

   Here is what happened. 

   My mother is the architect of any family deal, being a holiday, social gathering, party and road trip.

   She is the architect, director, supervisor, accountant  and overall foreman of all deals.  So each one of us in my family, young and old, cradle to grave understands whose boss.  Mom is.  And look, in close quarters and a moving vehicle it's just a darn good idea to follow her rules, no matter how old we get.  

   We are to be at the Pink House at 7 o'clock, sharp.  Instructions are very specific.  Mine in particular are,

   "Ivey Mae please do not have your tits hanging out.  And whatever you do, do not put on any of that god awful stinkin stuff you wear.  Have the girls dressed decent and be on time.  No excuses.  Oh and yal'll are not to bring any of those animals.  Leave all leashes and dogs at home.  You can go back to that mess as soon as we return."

 

A TWANG

It's gonna be one of them.

  All I know as a given is, there has got to be a twang in there somewhere.

A KARDASHIAN STYLE SEX SCANDAL

In the hands of my own mother, nice.

I'M SICK

"Hello mother."

   "What?" She obnoxiously replies.

   Oh brother.  "Whats wrong?"  I sincerely ask, to another obnoxious reply.

   "I'm sick.  Don't bother me." and she hangs up the phone.

   She sounds mad not sick.  Uh oh somebody is in big trouble and I get the feeling it isn't me. 

    For a change. 

 

AINT NO DOUBT ABOUT IT

If the dog runs off with your teeth, twice, you gotta be a redneck.

THE JADED WAKE

The jaded wake is sensitive for me to hear as the afternoon gains speed.  Oh my.   Time is painfully unfolding my damage, in his clear green eyes.  Look what I have done.  God please forgive me.

  I knew it was there, but am saddened to realize the extent of marred emotion inside the man I will always love.  Then I gently tell him,    

   "Apparently I'm not the only one that's jaded."  He stops talking to stare at me.  We say nothing for a moment as I watch him think.  Then he aptly replies.

   "What?" with the impact of a sudden truth that will echo, deep within the private corners if his mind.  

   I wait longer in the fragile silence. 

  Taking my hand in both of his, he says, "let's go" and leads me outside into the sun, that is trying to outwear the dark storm clouds brewing.

HIS BABY

This year he is a father.  This year he is in love, with his baby.  I've seen his excitement before. 

   Walking through the house I slowly follow his lead, taking in, all that I can around us.  His home feels foreign as his intimate voice echoes off the tile floor.  He sure looks the same, causing that old and loyal ache to surge my heart.

   Then, there she is.  The baby we will never have.  I swallow hard as he leans over the playpen's wooden edge and gently lifts her high, but the child is staring at me.  He giggles with pride as she bears her blue eyes into mine.  His daughter is beholding me as if she knows.  She feels, what we are trying to hide. 

   Instinctively I take her in my arms and she glides into the fold of my elbow.  Her warm body exposes those years of loss, pulling tears into my eyes.  "Look at that" he says with complete surprise.  "She doesn't usually let people hold her."

   The tiny little girl lingers all her concentration on me, as I begin to wonder.

   "What would she say if she came home and saw me holding her?"

   "Nothin.  Probably just start screaming."