Café au amour (coffee with love)

“Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other.”
Karl - age 5

“Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French Fries without making them give you any of theirs.”
Chrissy - age 6

“Love is what makes you smile when you’re tired.”
Terri - age 4

“Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK.”
Danny - age 7“

“When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn’t bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all even when his hands got arthritis, too. That’s Love.”
Rebecca - age 8

“When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth.”
Billy - age 4

“Love is when you give someone your whole heart and they give you their whole heart.”

 Arianna- age 5 (my daughter)

An unknown author of “Inspiration & Motivation” blog posted several quotes from young children, professing their ideas about the meaning of love. These simply honest perspectives undoubtedly reflect unadulterated love. Vivid images emerge from these statements, tugging at hidden emotions and pulling at coiled heart strings. I imagine multi-colored butterflies, fluttering their wings in the pit of two lovers’ stomachs as they take in whiffs of cologne and perfume just as Karl so eloquently put. I think of a toasty cabin fire emitting waves of warmth throughout Rebecca’s grandmother’s veins as her grandfather painted her toenails a soft pink. Silence follows. Questions fill within me shortly after. Are we creating these little opportunities to showcase our love, and more importantly, are we appreciative of these notions when they come our way? In an over-sexualized society, it is quite evident that romance is becoming somewhat extinct. Heart shaped sugar cookies with iced love sayings are being replaced with “I’m sorry for cheating” diamond rings, and individuals are trading in their titles as lovers for business partners. Perhaps we should look to young children to understand and respect their world view of simplicity and learn that “little things” make bigger statements instead of being caught up in the big distractions that fill bleak voids.

*Quotes taken from “Inspiration and Motivation” blog http://www.bestinspirationalquotes4u.com/blog/58/what-does-love-mean/

Poetic Wednesdays

In Philly, it’s a rainy Wednesday night. The sound of the soft rain dancing against the window makes for a perfect relaxing night. Unwind with some poetry, a glass of wine and smooth music before you retire to the bed. Peace and Love.

   Music

Music, the symphony of notes connecting me to my inner child

Reversing my steps towards the day of my birth into this world

Looking through a frosty window at a much younger version of me

Amazed at the sight of lost innocence and unadulterated hope

I can see my father oh so clear, his angelic silhouette is cleansed of all poisons

Joined in a dance with my mother, her body is perfumed with pure joy

Careless Whispers pulsate rhythm waves throughout their joined bodies

It’s everything that defines my character, the core of my complex-layered heart

I look in on my sister, dressed in fuzzy pajamas, fully clothed with happiness

A less sexy dance between us girls as we spin around to the groove of music

Savory scents of supper warm the cozy home with feelings of love and security

And now I’m locked out and wanting to be there so badly

The residue of my true joy is in the traces of old time melodies

I trace my fingers along the pane of their window, I want them to let me in

I wish they could see that my spirit is locked behind their doors, locked away in the past

I can hardly breathe, my heart is gasping for familiarity and a sense of belonging

The hours of tomorrow stole the pleasure of yesterday from me

Despite the yearning to revisit moments that define my life, I must move on

There are weak moments, contemplations of sacrificing my blood to find the lost me

Those times where I frantically dig the soil away from those buried memories

Those tireless attempts to breathe existence into past times that are dead now

My family has parted from me, my heart has parted from my mind

It is a suicide of my joy

But music reminds me that I once existed, and I was whole    

Forgotten Tears (inspired by movie "Precious")

Dear Mama, can I cry too? When the souls of our home bellow in pain, does God only hear you?

Cause I cry. I cry too, but with no one to answer, God must only hear you.

In the presence of the moon, you wallow in a deep stupor, as your tears drown the pain surrounding you.

Blinded sight and tear stained eyes never seem to notice that daddy’s left your bed.

He pours you the bloody death of my innocence, while you stumbled to the blues in a solo dance.

A trance, provoked by thick curls of sweet smoke, calling you to a window of escape.

Worlds away, I lay, screams muffled by razor threats, fears choked with familiar hands.

I cry, hoping my tears swim towards your compassion, your awareness, your ability to give a damn.

Yet you never answer, or refuse to, cause your blues grow louder to the creaking of my bed.

I imagine you in your finest silk, loving daddy the way you used to.

So I pretend to be you, cause that’s the only way his thrusts make sense.

Pain, disgust, pleasure, guilt, fingers of emotions prod at my sanity.

I cry mama, I burn with anger as you let this happen.

I look up at the night’s dark blanket angry with God too.

The stench of whiskey hangs heavy above my lips.

I yearn for a taste of your distorted reality, a taste of daddy’s selfishness.

Cause all I can think about is how sorry I am for what daddy has done to us.

To me.

To you.

Mama.

I cry.

For you.

For me.

Can I?

I look up at the stars sparkle like shiny diamond gems.

It’s the only thing alive in that dead black sky.

Has to be, because mama I cry too.

But it seems that God only has ears for you.



“I Need a Drink….Change anyone?”

In between mint flavored “vacations,” a friend of mines confessed that she was concealing a private savings account with a secret stash of five-thousand dollars. Her boyfriend had no clue the money existed, as she kept her lips pursed through many of their financial struggles. I imagined the intensity of the argument that would unfold if he were to ever find out her “secret.” What was the money for? Was she chipping away at the account to provide just enough cushioning to keep them out of poverty, or was it a means to run away if things should ever worsen. In relationships, one of the most common reasons for dissolution is “money problems.” Money represents power, security, love, control, joy, and freedom to name a few. To complicate things further, money is viewed differently by every individual. To some, it is nothing more than a way to purchase necessities while others see money as a potential mate to bond with for a lifetime. Throwing these mixed views into a relationship can create a concoction for a disaster! However, one can counter that dire ending by understanding what it means to handle money in relationships. The first step is: knowing your debt to income ratio. How much cheese are you bringing in, and how many chunks of cheese does the mouse eat away? This step is crucial because all sources of income must be brought to the table. This isn’t the time to rationalize about how you docked some of the income because your husband left the toothpaste cap off one time too many. To pick on husbands too, local strip club donations won’t make you a philanthropist. Embrace the concept: We are in this together and this is OUR money. The second step is: developing a spending chart. Record where your money is being spent and look for patterns to learn your strengths and weaknesses. Spenders shouldn’t look at the Savers as wicked stepparents, and Savers shouldn’t view Spenders as financial destructors. Just as a relationship involves the coming together of two individuals, views and desires should also be brought together for sake of compromise. The topic of money is undoubtedly a potential hair-raiser in relationships so it must be approached “blame-free.” The girlfriend I was chatting with is still in a relationship…..With her money that is.  

Ice in my Mojito

It was like a scene out of the Old West, as my partner and I stood before each other armed with a slew of profane words and reddened eyes. The kitchen was overcrowded with our bruised egos, and overheated with our hot tempers. The only cool thing in our presence was the cup of ice that we were so passionately arguing over. I imagined chunks of frozen water cracking up against the hollow space between his ears.  The look in his piercing eyes made me feel that he was having some harsh fantasies of his own. There we stood, chests heaving, anger rising, and patience falling. War was imminent, set into motion by an 8oz cup of ice. The clock raced past time, screeching its way towards midnight. At 11:59, I had a thought. If one of us were taken away this instant, would we be relieved, feeling vindicated in this “Cold” war, or would we yearn for another moment to share a cozy space in time? This question made me think a little deeper. If this shall be the last time I would ever look into his eyes, would he have internally said goodbye to a crazed woman who was too stupid to love freely? I started to think of our better days when butterflies danced around my stomach, and anticipation eased out of my nervous palms. Ice didn’t matter so much then. Sure it cooled off a nice glass of lemonade but it wasn’t important enough to be the “other woman.” Across the country, behind the drawn curtains, I wondered how many lovers were fighting over “cups of ice.” In other words, the minute distractions that means absolutely nothing in the end. But today, nothing was everything as the ice indicated a deeper issue, separating lovers. The coldness before us represented an unwillingness to put aside our egos and work together as a team. In some houses a cup of ice is a cup of lust, selfishness, financial distrust, or a kryptonite of their choice. It’s all the same because it presents an equal opportunity to kill love. When the clock struck 12, suddenly, that cup of ice meant nothing more than a barrier between two lovers.