Yesterday we had three views from Saint Maarten. First time
for you so welcome. A short blog today then I must dash on with whatever I need
to do. A funny night last night, in fact yesterday. My Son got up early, this
is not like him. Then he went fishing with a good friend of his. He had four
lakes to choose from and found a broken old boat that sank when they stood in
it. If ever there is danger my boy will find it. Typical lad. He loved his day
and the sun Shon for him all day. Thank God he didn’t bring his poor catch
home, gone are those days when he used to do that. Oh God it was evil. I mean,
you just don’t need to do that now days? I never understood how as a
pescitarian, he could do such a thing, OK, so he ate fish, but he primarily was
a vegetarian so to kill something? I mean, it’s not the cave man days? So he
hooked them, gave them a very sore lip and put them back. He said they were
huge. Hmm. And should be left alone to swim in the lake I say. He came in, had
his second shower of the day and went out to the gym. Not sure why he needed a
shower for the gym? Came in, ate dinner with us, went back for another shower
and went out to play football. At nine o clock at night? OK, there are floodlights. But till when? I
asked him to be in for eleven. A reasonable request don’t you think considering
Hub had to be up for work five hours after then? Eleven came, no teen. I text
him. He told me he was at his friends. Then by one this morning, I was so
anxious he would come in and wake Hub up. Nothing, all I heard was crazy people
going back and forward on our quiet avenue well, normally, quiet on mopeds screaming
like lunatics. This went on for two hours. And I think there was a motorbike involved
too. Oh my insides were shaking. I felt sick. They kept stopping at our row of
houses. I was sure teen was with them as he keeps saying he wants a moped. So I
text him. He wrote straight back saying he wasn’t. Well he couldn’t do that if
he was being driven like a suicide passenger would he?
I put on my earphones and blocked the world out of my head.
This made me sleepy and I was OK. Now then, Hubs alarm went off at 4.20am. Teen’s
bedroom door was closed. And open before I went to bed. Thank God he was OK?
But how on earth did he get back without making a sound? He must have come back
when I was listening to music? Though be it for just an hour. I have been in
today to see him, at eleven. He’s like the living dead. Haha. I’m not surprised after a full day on the
lakes, gym and football and whatever came after that? But good to see him
having fun at last.
I have so much house work to do and I really don’t want to
do it. God I hate it. I wish I could just pay someone to do it. Hmm. actually,
do I? No, as this is the only thing I do in my boys eyes so if I didn’t even do
that, what good would I be? My house really needs a good day of cleaning. When
you can’t see, you do one of two things, you clean overboard so no one can say
our houses are dirty because we can’t see, or we say we can’t see it stuff it.
And that has been my mentality of late. I’m on these new tablets from the
doctors and they are making me feel so tired and dizzy. They were to release
the fluid in my eye? Hmm. Well, it’s not my eye where the fluid has been
released.
They make me feel so serious too. My friend yesterday asked
me why I wrote such dark poetry. Well two reasons. Firstly because I think I
write so much better when my poems are dark and two that is how I feel most of
the time and three my dark poems have been read the most. Finally four, because
as I said to him, when I write a poem I in my head am doing art. A picture. Of
spikes, twists, sharp edges, non-typical flower petals, trees which actually eat
you up in their branches. When I write a happy poem, it’s like whatever.
For some reason one of the darkest poems I have ever
written, “Why and how, has had almost 400 views in a year. Now why? And How? Haha.
I really don’t know? Hub says it’s read by people who wish to commit suicide.
Charming.
Here it is
Why and how
By Fiona Cummings
The pain is too much now
I can’t take anymore
People ask why and how
I do not walk out of the door
Answer is simple
I have lost all I had
Lessons of cruelty
And treatments so bad
My heart has been shredded
When I was created
I was already broken
My teacher has spoken
Giving lectures on choking
How bony fingers become tighter
Heavy breathing gets lighter
Closer to the fire
On an iron spike
Roasting flesh
The devil does like
Gouged out eyes
Eaten by flies
Trampled on by studded boots
Buried under old roots
Forgotten and flung
On a map a crumb
Life goes on
For everyone
My soul just watches from a far
Perched up high
On a shiny star
Clouds are my blankets
For comfort now
So people can’t wonder
Why, and how
See, imagine that is a painting, there would be reds and
orange flames. Loads of spikes and teardrops. I know, it’s awful, I wish I
could be all bright and cheerful? I shall write a cheery poem this week, and I bet
it doesn’t get more than twenty views in a month? And no more than forty in a
year. Why is this?
Another day of sunshine here in the UK. This would be lovely
if I could sit out in the garden with my Hub and Son, but one is far away on a
course and the other is still in bed and it must be mid-day by now?
This weekend is my friend from Russia birthday. She is off
to a castle with her family. My other friend also has her birthday and she is
having one of our famous street parties. It’s my step daughter’s birthday this
week too. So I guess a lot of candles?
OK, now time to work. I have paperwork to do too. I hate
that as you all know. I hope my Son will help just a little bit? Just to write
the envelope out, as I normally do, but this is an important letter and if my
pen doesn’t work or for some reason I go wrong somewhere? So let’s hope he’s
going to give his precious time today before heading out for the day and night
again? Oh to be young? I tell you, I would want the young body and health, but
not the life. As specially now days and for sure not my youth either. What age
would I like to be again?
Hmm. Well. Let’s see, you know I don’t have a year or a
month. I have odd days scattered around. Like when I had my 13th
birthday and met my hero of the time a guy called Andy Craig. He was a kid’s
presenter I was for sure in love with. My 13th was a great day. I
have written about it before. My Mum and Dad were invited to lunch in a rather
fine restaurant/hotel near where we used to live. We went with the news reporters
of course. I was given the most amazing meal of my life and then whisked off to
the studios. A live interview with my Mum and me and at the end, Andy came on
singing happy birthday with flowers and a huge birthday cake, but stuff the
cake and flowers; he planted a kiss on my cheek. Oh I went to heaven.
The time in the
Datcha with my Russian friends. I loved it there, so normal, so right, so real.
Then the day I gave birth to my baby. I held him and he connected
with me in a way I never thought was possible. I was not going to be the hard
bitch who gave me up before I was even born, I was not going to be the one who
would ever leave my Son to wonder who his Mother was. I was there to love him
and bring him up the best way I could. I Held him and for a moment, he was me.
I broke down, I held this tiny body and for ten minutes,
he was me. I was not,
that horrible person who coldly rejected me not once but three times in her
cold hard life. How could anyone do such a thing?
The day I brought him home from the hospital. Oh life was
going to be tough but not as tough as I ever imagined. A year later, I woke up
blind, my Dad died two weeks later and less than six months after then, my Mum
died. Leaving me alone in the world with my baby. My x Husband worked and
played a lot so it was us two. This is one of many reasons I have this bond
with my Son and this is what people don’t understand.
Time in America with our beloved friends I will never forget
and has kept my heart together.
Then the day I made contact with my now Husband. Then the
day I met him for the first time after 28 years and the day I married him.
These are my days of life.
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