Thank you Daddy, for believing in me.
And for sending me this song yesterday.
It lifted my spirit and I don't feel so
alone today.
Baby Girl
Written by: Will Hoge
May the sunlight find your face
Even when the rain does fall
And get back on your feet again
Every time you slip and fall
Keep your heart wide open
And always taking in
And even when it’s broken
Be Strong enough to fix it up again
Oh little baby girl
Sweet little baby girl
I wish I could hold your hand in this great big world
Oh little baby girl
And I hope your hands are steady
And never need to make a fist
And I hope that when you’re ready
You get one never ending kiss
And I hope that deep inside of you
There’s a sweet eternal song
And I hope the words are pretty
And that you’ll always sing along
And I hope your friends are many
And your laughter’s always loud
To help you when you’re lonely
And pick you up when you’re down
I hope your eyes shine bright love
And learn to see the light
Take the time to listen
Decide yourself what’s wrong or right
Oh little baby girl
Sweet little baby girl
Be strong in this great big world
Oh little baby girl
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aYL1e5oLWJE
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Dear Diary…I admit, I suck at this
So many thoughts, experiences, and memories - and here I sit not recording a single one. What is wrong with me? Do I really believe that my brain will store them all? Every touch, every laugh, every moment, every glance, every sigh? There is no way! I look back at the blank pages of my youthful diary and think…why didn’t you take the time to write it down? A line or two just so that you can recall these precious days. Because I thought I would never forget. . .the feelings were so joyful, mischievous, intense and heart wrenching. So why do we forget to record and in my case, the good times.
There was always the risk that someone would stumble across my diary. I wasn’t concerned my sister would read it, she didn’t read anything. I feared my brother would find my diary and run across the impure thoughts I was having about one of his buds. That he would find out what happened in the back of his station wagon on our way to the drive-in, that he would find out I was taking birth control, and that I thought at times he was a total loser.
I worried that my parents would think less of me if they truly knew what was going on in my adolescent brain, and would send me to boarding school if they found out I was sexually active. As I was thumbing through the pages of an old diary, (honestly I don’t know why I keep this crap.) I noticed, just as now, I write when I am hurting, when things were rough, when the road I was on took unexpected twists. I wrote of girlfriend betrayals and other injustices I thought I would never live through, I wrote of ‘true’ love lost, and petty jealousies. But as I think of it now, my life was not just about deceit, disaster, and disappointment. There were many beautiful memories made too.
Just as now, there are hardships, disappointments, and betrayals. I continue to do stupid things. I still fall in love with the wrong men, I trust too freely, I drink too much, I work too hard, and let things go until they are in disrepair, but my life is wonderful. So. . .
Dear Diary,
It has been a while, hasn’t it? I had the piano tuned last week and had two strings replaced, it has been needed for awhile. Last night I was brilliant. I had been practicing for months, on my out of tune piano, this medley of special songs. I played and sang for him. I am not a performer at heart, so when I play, I feel this crippling vulnerability and exposure. Those feelings of insecurity and fright wash over me as I laid my hands on the keys, I closed my eyes and reminded myself, “This is your gift to him.” and with the first note played-the realization there is no turning back. I opened that part of myself to him. The secret I have kept hidden from everyone for years. Playing only in private and stopping when others enter the room. Never wanting to expose myself to the scrutiny of others, or being guilted into playing, or feeling ‘forced’ to perform.
It was suppose to be a gift for him, one I gave freely because there was no fear, no insecurity, no secret motive. His love gave me the strength and that is his gift to me.
There was always the risk that someone would stumble across my diary. I wasn’t concerned my sister would read it, she didn’t read anything. I feared my brother would find my diary and run across the impure thoughts I was having about one of his buds. That he would find out what happened in the back of his station wagon on our way to the drive-in, that he would find out I was taking birth control, and that I thought at times he was a total loser.
I worried that my parents would think less of me if they truly knew what was going on in my adolescent brain, and would send me to boarding school if they found out I was sexually active. As I was thumbing through the pages of an old diary, (honestly I don’t know why I keep this crap.) I noticed, just as now, I write when I am hurting, when things were rough, when the road I was on took unexpected twists. I wrote of girlfriend betrayals and other injustices I thought I would never live through, I wrote of ‘true’ love lost, and petty jealousies. But as I think of it now, my life was not just about deceit, disaster, and disappointment. There were many beautiful memories made too.
Just as now, there are hardships, disappointments, and betrayals. I continue to do stupid things. I still fall in love with the wrong men, I trust too freely, I drink too much, I work too hard, and let things go until they are in disrepair, but my life is wonderful. So. . .
Dear Diary,
It has been a while, hasn’t it? I had the piano tuned last week and had two strings replaced, it has been needed for awhile. Last night I was brilliant. I had been practicing for months, on my out of tune piano, this medley of special songs. I played and sang for him. I am not a performer at heart, so when I play, I feel this crippling vulnerability and exposure. Those feelings of insecurity and fright wash over me as I laid my hands on the keys, I closed my eyes and reminded myself, “This is your gift to him.” and with the first note played-the realization there is no turning back. I opened that part of myself to him. The secret I have kept hidden from everyone for years. Playing only in private and stopping when others enter the room. Never wanting to expose myself to the scrutiny of others, or being guilted into playing, or feeling ‘forced’ to perform.
It was suppose to be a gift for him, one I gave freely because there was no fear, no insecurity, no secret motive. His love gave me the strength and that is his gift to me.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Time After. . .
I swear some nights you are beside me
making that impression on the other
side of the bed where the sheets
are untouched and pulled up tight
I roll over and can picture your face
laying on pillow just as it was the
last time you were here.
You stroke my face and look deep
into my eyes searching for a way. . .
A way to erase the last thirty years
to bargain for an ‘over’
to manipulate time
to promise me
what I can never have
“after my picture fades and darkness
has turned to gray
watching through windows
you're wondering if I'm OK
secrets stolen from deep inside
the drum beats out of time
if you're lost you can look--
and you will find me
time after time
if you fall I will catch you--
I'll be waiting time after time
Flashback--warm nights--
almost left behind
suitcases of memories,
time after time”
making that impression on the other
side of the bed where the sheets
are untouched and pulled up tight
I roll over and can picture your face
laying on pillow just as it was the
last time you were here.
You stroke my face and look deep
into my eyes searching for a way. . .
A way to erase the last thirty years
to bargain for an ‘over’
to manipulate time
to promise me
what I can never have
“after my picture fades and darkness
has turned to gray
watching through windows
you're wondering if I'm OK
secrets stolen from deep inside
the drum beats out of time
if you're lost you can look--
and you will find me
time after time
if you fall I will catch you--
I'll be waiting time after time
Flashback--warm nights--
almost left behind
suitcases of memories,
time after time”
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