An Eighth Shot of Espresso: Coffee and Creativity on Mum's Third Shift

Memories are fleeting brief cracks of time sometimes so clear  other times so muddled  she does not remember  my face or my voice  I live so far away like a short story in only one printed volume until I am there in person  and somehow suddenly  it produces a spark  of prior knowledge

Cauliflower trees  white blooms  floret  of flowers  that look like bunches of white  snow on branches Cotton candy trees pink blooms almost like cherry but not quite soft petals rain like a crimson carpet My daughter points and laughs at the memory of a young girl with an imaginative mind naming the trees. 

I read books  because  I want to go  on adventures even though  physically  I cannot.  It doesn't matter that my hands are bad or my knees are not like they were when I was young. My mind is  unfettered  by those  who say  I can't. My world is not clouded by the  fog of harsh reality.

A passport to other lands  other ways of thinking  seeing and feeling Fresh perspectives, new ideas.   broaden your horizons  no man is an island it takes a village the lone adventurer Immovable stones are worn down by time, wind and rain become diamonds with pressure that all sounds so cliche so many roll their eyes but it's quite important  now more than ever Reach out and explore yes it takes effort for life does not  just come to you Songs yet unsung paintings yet unmade the possibilities are endless it takes so much courage The first step is the hardest to leave the familiar behind but to free your soul and mind you must decide to go there.

Is it wrong to believe you deserve more than you have? To dream of happiness on your own terms and not by anyone else's? Teach the ones  who hurt you a lesson they will never forget? Protect the sanity that still exists in your mind so you never get hurt ever again?

The Muse awakens from a long peaceful nap pours a cup of coffee Sunlight through the blinds diffuses through the house soft shadows creep on by The hum of electronics the clatter of keyboard slip into familiar territory a pile of ideas half written, half forgotten what will become of them the editor wants this and that all will appear in due time good work can't be rushed she is fickle but focused interruptions not welcome but rolls with every single one a time of rest required though pressure to produce looms large on the horizon the well can't run dry she fills another mug and gets to the business

Mom called and asked again if I went to church today I told her I'm spending time with the kids and yet again I told her that they would not sit still for Mass because of their issues. Selective hearing all she heard was "No." and demanded to know why and she said not all churches treat my kids like outcasts. I should know that. I should know better. I didn't tell her that if she was worried about my immortal soul and going to heaven she should take care of her own. Instead I wished her a Happy Easter smiling through my tears and just returned to what really matters my family and making my kids happy no matter what others say.

It's rather odd... My ancestors have come and gone generations separate us and yet... I still feel them every time I take up my brush and trace every character stroke. And every time I put my hands around a bowl of steaming egg drop soup. When I go through language lessons wrapping my head around measure words and many dialects. I try to pick up noodles with the plain wooden chopsticks with very little grace. Today starts a new year The Year of the Wood Snake "Gõngxĩ făcái. Happy New Year."

Choosing a Direction I Can Fill Your Life With Wealth and Prosperity Reprogram your Money Mindset So Good. The Art of Gaslighting: The Answer to All Your Problems I Sense Dark Clouds Clouding your Mind. Pluto Moves into Aquarius This Transit Could Change Your Life! My Prediction About You was RIGHT! Why the JackPot Could Already Be In Your Pocket! Chasing the Moment Urgent Action Needed A Wealth Curse is Haunting You Recurring Income is $10 K a month. Crystal Infused Water Will Change your Life! Live Psychic Readings Authorize my Intervention Risks and Rewards.

Last on the their list but first on mine. I listen to music that I compose myself They can march with me waltz with me shuffle with me or they can choose not to I cannot control their reaction but I can control mine. Turn the other cheek they always say I simply turn around and my face is in shadow they cannot read my expression which unsettles them to no end. My world is pieced together and might join theirs or might not. You are welcome to visit but remember that you are just that a visitor, not a homesteader.

The miracle drink that helps me push through the day. Through the sniffles and the fatigue and the ringing on the phone. On a cold autumn morning when it is quiet and still contemplating over a single cup. The very aroma takes me back late nights grading papers. In a cafe watching the customers sketching their lives. It's 2 A.M the baby refuses to sleep it becomes a much-needed ally. Mug in hand I somehow work through this heavy fatigue Tonic of the Goddess locked in a handful of beans I depend on this kindness.

My muse with clipped wings swings her brush from between the bars of her cage. Canvases steeped in darkness never to be seen by anyone in the light. An expression of madness caused by too many voices suddenly made silent fair weather friends. A scarred heart only half healed hidden away in order to not be hurt again. Her precious children dripping with hope and courage no longer for auction no longer for promotion. Perhaps if you are sincere and don't arrive just to leave again you can see their colors.

A new transition from mother to elder but a young woman still lives within my breast. There's so still so much I want to see and do! Where did the time go? How much of it wasted? The young ones need me safety and stability in a world that is so uncertain. No one else knows the path I have trod but that road is not yet closed. Don't need to be bound by the old traditions Share the knowledge you have and accumulate more. No need to be resigned and wait for death when there is more to accomplish.

Pen paralyzed on the page The words will not come the images remain stubborn not wanting to be transferred onto paper. Imagination fails me The memory of your lips your smile your laughter dim behind an invisible wall even though I see your visage every day. The colors are muted my brush freezes with indecision Why am I blocked from the flow from which I hone my craft?

I. My life's big challenge married to an introvert so much compromise. II. Evenings spent alone he unwinds watching programs on his computer. III. No get-togethers no casual friends at all except from his work IV. He just sets the tone content to be by himself ignores everything V. I do things for me and deal with his jealousy but he does nothing. VI. He's not comfortable I respect his preference. But I am not him.