A storm is coming. It’s time to prepare. Warnings constantly blasting on every news channel, telling us we must get away.

Grocery store shelves are emptying fast. No water to be found. Generators sold out.

How can this be? The storm is a week out.

Beaches erase as the storm moves north, leaving us in shock at the fury and appetite of what's headed our way.

Another storm is at work out of our sight. One not expected at all. One that leaves us frozen in shock and utterly speechless.

A loving, cherished, and adored child is taken too soon. The phone call no mother or father ever wants to receive.

While the storm rages outside and the news quickly spreads to all of those touched by this young man, our darkened rooms suddenly fill with pain and Mother Nature doesn't seem so scary after all.

Now the skies have cleared and trees are being removed. Power is slowly being restored.

While many people are struggling with flooded homes and cars, there is one family whose hearts have been flooded with pain. That tide will never recede.

We will stand close by and help as we can, holding on to precious memories and good times we have shared, watch as the sunrise grabs a new day, knowing there is a new angel smiling from Heaven.

We are quickly reminded of the greatest gift we can give and our most treasured possession, love.

So for those of you still weathering the storm, whatever it may be, hold each other tight; you never know when it might be the last night.

~ In loving memory of Malachy. You will be missed!!

Once

Upon

a Time

There Was

you & I

Reckless

& Wild

Dancing

With Fate

Pulled out of my dreams I hear noises that I can't quite comprehend.

Wearing my happy, bright-colored rainbow and unicorn cotton nightgown, I stumble down the hall to find out what it is.  

There with my sleepy eyes I discover my mother and stepdad completely naked and my stepdad is screaming at her.  She is totally incoherent and he is slapping her.

Maybe I should mention at this point that I was only four years old.

Confused, I go to my safe spot, under the bed.

I don't scream, I don't speak up, I just run.

I have no memory of what happened between that moment and when my mother's best friend finds me hiding and coaxes me out of my temporary safe haven.

I only have tiny glimpses of memories from that portion of my life.

I do, however, have anger that I can't quite contain sometimes, full of resentment towards my mother for that child I wanted to be and the reality of the child I actually was.  

Always moving, always running, always starting over.

You see, my mother has mental issues.  In my unprofessional opinion, I would venture to say she's bipolar.

Years later I discovered that what happened that particular night was an attempted suicide, one of many.

This time she overdosed on pills.

People who have known me since my childhood and teenage years are always saying they are impressed how I've turned out, that they really didn't expect much from me because of where I came from.

Talk about a slap in the face.  Do I say thank you???

But I choose to see it differently, or at least redirect my mind when it starts to wander into the darker shadows.

I choose to look at all the people who were willing to find me and pull me back out, pull me into some form of normalcy when my mother was unable.

Those people were my saving grace.  

So, in a way, perhaps I was luckier than most.  I had many "mothers" willing to step in, willing to hold my hand, wipe my tears, encouraging me to learn and grow.

They are the ones who continued to reach under the bed and pull me back out.

And to them, I am eternally grateful.

i wear my two faces

and smile to you in both.

but god knows i should never

take off these red- lipped masks.

the men that would fall,

the eyes that would bleed.

the women that would cry

as they crumbled at their knees.

thank god i bought a few second- hand skins

from the slaughterhouse.

F irst he's sweet, he slipped up again

U nder the sweetness he pressures you to forgive

C an't you see he's upset listen to him whine

K nowing it's the truth things will be better this time

I ndulging him and forgiving him

N ever letting it happen again

G etting out if it happens again

B roken nose

I nternal bleeding

T olerating one more beating

C atching flack for looking hurt

H earing the words Sorry, can we make this work?

C rying packing fleeing fled

U sing his savings to get ahead

N ever again letting her blood be shed

T urning and leaving like she said

"I'll be an abomination of God. I'll commit sins you can't even think of. I'll make Satan look like an angel, and I'll make God wish he'd dealt me a better hand. At this time, in this world I'll be known as "Sin" and I'll make hell come alive.", and as he said this, I could see the fire in his eyes, he was a scorned man and that scared me.

Sitting on the sidewalk in a little fragile heap is a man whom I've seen before. I think to myself, he was somebody's baby once. 

I scramble for loose change at the bottom of my purse. The sound has his attention and he looks at me with a broken and filthy smile. I smile back apologetically and empty my palm of nickels, pennies and dimes into the empty plastic cup.

Noisy commuters fill the coffee shop as I step into line. The smell of baked goods fills the air. I finger through my wallet, and hand the cashier a twenty.