2003-09-28 - 7:57 a.m.

You're here again....I feel you on the breeze. Will you forever haunt me?

My own shadow frightens me now, is that not enough for you?

Your control, your trickery, your timing impeccable. Oh but I thought I would win this year, my mind braced to be strong against other hardships, my spirit strengthened by nearly a year now of interflection and growth, time spent alone growing in myself. But as if you control the universe in all its darkened ways, you have broken me down.

I check the lock on the door 1000 times a night it seems, sleep comes only in short moments tormented by memories and with screams I wake. The cold air of fall once my comfort and relief seems to take hold on my throat and press like the silver shining blade you will never let me forget.

The wind taunts me, in its whisperings your voice sings mockingly. I wrap my clothing around me but the cold forever penetrates and my very soul shivers unable to find warmth.

Will you ever leave me be, have I not suffered enough?

2003-09-26 - 8:48 p.m.

There’s a clump of daffodils that grows just across the yard; on a summer’s day the beauty of them against the luscious green lawn is breath-taking, if you only take the moment to appreciate it. I’ve sat on the top of these steps with their chipping blue paint a million times, but today I see so many things I never saw before.

There’s a woman in my life who has nurtured me and loved me since those very first days, and yet it took me 25 years to realize just quite how amazing she is. She was born in Canada, 86 years ago in a world so different that I wonder if I can truly fathom just how much has changed.

She watched her husband, their marriage vows just barely taken, go off to World War II. It was only a few months ago that she told me the story, how they were unwed when he was called off to war. She married him before he left, she would not choose to stand by him or not should he return injured or changed, whatever came to him in this war, she would be there to help him through when he returned.

While he was away so many things changed in daily life. It wasn’t like the wars I’ve known, it wasn’t just there in the media, she felt it every day. She went to work in the shipyards, “Rosy the Riveter”. She came home to Falmouth at night after a hard day of work to a home she’d barely yet shared with her husband.

The war ended, he came home in one piece, and they truly began their life together. They raised four children, all amazing people in their own rights. It was a time when society had not yet grown to accept the differences of people, when those who were handicapped were often segregated from society, institutionalized. When she learned that her first child was mentally handicapped, however, she refused to give in to the societal “norm”. I can only imagine the struggles of a mother, facing the tragedy of a child with handicap and fighting to give her a normal life in a time that just wasn’t done.

With a small group of like-minded mothers she helped form the basis of Friends of Retarded, an organization that would later be the foundation of other programs for the handicapped in Maine. She fought for the rights of her child, and for so many people with handicaps. What she helped to start will long be remembered here, though most will never realize just how much she struggled to bring about such change.

The children had grown, and the first of the grandchildren played at the bottom of those steps with the chipping blue paint, not far from those daffodils, when that man she pledged her love to before he went off to war, went home for good. She buried him close to the home they had shared and she held her head up high and went on with life. She has watched her children flourish, watched her grandchildren grow. She has given countless hours to countless numbers of causes, giving more of herself than most people could comprehend. Habitat for Humanity, AARP and so many other organizations, have known the pleasure of her service. So many lives she has touched in her 86 years. So many lives she still touches.

May you look at the daffodils of your life, see them for all their beauty, appreciate them before the cold of winter starts to whither their leaves. May you not wait and rush in those cool days of fall to savor the beauty, as the frost threatens to steal it away with every nightfall. May you cherish the amazing splendor of those flowers in your life and not let the moments slip so far that you fail to see what is there before the blanket of winter snow takes them away.

Written in love and respect for one of the most amazing people I’ll ever know, Frances Carr. I’m sorry I waited until the crisp days of autumn to see all you are and how much you mean to me

Essence

When you look deep inside yourself, pass the pre-defined notions of your day to day life and the person you have become, the mold you have poured yourself into...what do you see?

Deep inside you somewhere is the very heart of your person, many will never know what this heart truly says, what it longs for, what it can give, for they ignore it, push it away, deny it life and breath.

Deep inside me in compartments that long have been shut and covered with dust there is a woman who desires to serve. I've always known in some way she was there, always drawn to put the will and want of others before myself, to be kind and soft and loving and compassionate....and yet...

the world told me to grow strong and hard, to give but only in extreme caution, making sure the return was at least mutual if not to my advantage. And so I pushed the part of me that longed to serve and give and sacrifice deep inside, I learned to love the objects of comfort and the stature of my life, the power, the impressed looks on the faces of both friends and collegues.

and something broke, for all that there was a hole deep inside, something missing, a need unfulfilled. And when the walls of falsely built towers fall the hole left inside is painfully exposed. It cannot be denied, must be addressed, must be recognized for what it is.

for I am a submissive, a woman created with a heart meant to serve, a body that craves to its innermost core to please and love and care for others. for a submissive the very moment of freedom comes when others would say she is most jailed, most kept. At the moment that all the trivial worries and inhibitions of daily life have been removed the submissive becomes free, every movement, every gesture and every sound a work of art, a moment of purest contentment and love