Tag Archives: Love

Your Kiss – A Poem

8 Mar

You lean

I smile

You tease

I giggle

You touch

I sigh

You hold

I melt

You ask

I give

You offer

I need


*        *        *


Love, it’s a glorious thing.

Not merely lust.

Not just infatuation.

I crave him.

All of him.

His thoughts.

His smile.

His sense of humor.

And of course his touch.


*        *        *





Hungry, Hungry, Always Wanting More

7 Jun

How many kinds of hunger are there?

Hunger for food, power, knowledge, money, love. Any number of things. And how often is that hunger filled? You can get full of food. I know I have hit the wall on knowledge a few times. (Overload *head explodes*)

Full up on Love, now that is another matter. We all need love, whether we want to admit it or not. Love keeps us sane. Love teaches us empathy, sympathy, how to care for another human being.

Feeling loved is something that is hard to describe. It can be a warm feeling that fills your body, a liquid sunshine that radiates joy through every cell of your being. It can be utter relaxation as you snuggle into bed beside your partner (especially when he throws an arm around you and pulls you in a little closer. Heaven!).

Not feeling loved is another thing altogether. It can actually be painful, an overwhelming, gut-gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach. Or an ice hot marble that rolls down your spine when you finally work up the nerve to say it for the first time and the recipient takes a moment before responding. Whether their answer is positive or negative, there is still that moment of terror at the thought of being rejected.

That’s just romantic love.

What about love for a parent, love for a child, a sibling, a friend,…a car?

I love my car. Our Buick is a wonderful vehicle. It gets great gas mileage, is comfortable to drive, and handles the freeway like a dream. I love driving it.

I love driving a stick-shift, too! Oh. My. Gosh! do I love driving a stick-shift. I didn’t hardly know what a turbo-charger was until I borrowed my husband’s (fiance at the time) fun little sports car a couple of times. Love…yeah. Shifting down to pass a tractor, shifting back up to take off after getting back in your lane…*gasp* all that glorious work to get back to fourth after a stoplight…*drools*. Yes, I love stick-shifts. Especially when some punk kid revs beside you. *cackles*

–ahem— yeah, I should be careful. He reads this blog.

lol I don’t speed (anymore). I just leave them in the dirt on my way to the speed limit. Then let them pass me, keeping my finger crossed that there’s a cop in the next corner, because they are going a little fast to compensate for having been dusted off a light by a girl.

Where where we???

Yes, love.

I love to drive.

I love to eat! As long as it’s yummy. Yummy food is…er, yummy.

I love to get hugs from good friends.

When I was young I was really shy. But there were the occasional times when I got interested in things enough to leave the doubts and second thoughts behind. This happened one morning at Church when an older couple I had never seen walked in (I say older, but I was like 14 at the time). I walked up and gave him a handshake and her a hug. It was instant love. She gives the worlds best hugs. I kid you not, the best. I informed them there and then that whatever they were doing otherwise that this was now their Church. They have attended ever since.

Love is necessary to a full and happy life. To love and be loved. If you are not giving love to someone then you are missing out on one of life’s treasures. Loving someone is a true adventure. There are plenty of times when that person will annoy the living tar out of you, but you love them, you choose to continue loving them. Even while resisting the urge to hold a pillow over their face. You have made that commitment. Stay committed and you will reap some amazing rewards as the relationship just gets deeper and deeper. There will be rough patches, maybe some yelling, and certainly some way too quiet days. Just hold on. It will get better if you are both open to the fact that someone was hurt, you both feel like crap, and you need to find a way to communicate through the pain and defensive guilt.

Love. It is a feeling. It is sometimes a choice. It is necessary if you are going to truly sample the wares of this thing called The Human Existence.

Here’s the link, in case the video won’t play on here. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xf5SDKcfFkU

The Mani-Pedi Appointment

10 May

I stand in the doorway of an apartment complex, and buzz to get let in.  After opening the door, I walk through the foyer, past the slow elevator, and into the stairwell. Climbing the stairs I wonder how many of the steps I am finding to add to my day are actually being recorded by my pocket pedometer.

I don’t bother knocking on her door, she knows I’m on the way. As the door swings open I am greeted by happy chirps from Blue, her parakeet, and smell the last cup of coffee in the maker, burning slowly because it’s been forgotten. She sees me, and says hello, as the struggles to sit up to greet me. The day bed creeks as her body shifts, and slowly but surely she twists around to sit on the edge.

After a few words in affectionate greeting and banter I head to the bathroom to get the supplies I will need to do her nails. It’s just clear strengthening polish, but it does wonders to keep her nails from cracking and splitting. I search the little living room for the folding chair to perch on. It only takes a few moments to get set up, but she fills it with happy chatting about her day and of memories passed.

With careful hands I trim her nails. It is slow going, her skin is so pliable I have to double check before each little snip. Wouldn’t want to cut her. After all ten nails have been trimmed back, it only takes a few minutes to shape and smooth with a file. Putting my tools aside I reach for the polish, the chemical smell filling the tiny apartment as I spread it over those carefully trimmed nails. All the while we are talking, and laughing over little things that come to mind.

Her room mate comes home, while I prepare to start work on her toe nails. This starts the bird off in a new gale of tweets and trills as he sings his greeting to the woman who has walked in the door. We all laugh as someone points out that he seems to have a different thing to tell each person in their turn.

Laying her back onto the bed I set a towel beneath her feet, so as not the get nail pieces and any slopped polish on her pretty red sheets. After her toe nails have been trimmed and filed and painted I give the polish a little time to dry before removing the towel. The conversation has gone through many topics, but it now settles on one of her favorite childhood memories. I nod along, listening as she gestures with hands that have been twisted by arthritis. She talks of helping her father milk the cows before and after school each day, of the kitten she chose out of the barn cat’s only litter, and of the puppy dog she had as a teen. Happy memories of a time gone by, relived in the telling.

Going to the calendar I write down my time, and then head to pack away the nail care supplies. It took me an hour, but it never feels that long. It is always fun coming here. It is something I look forward to at the end of my week.

Picking up my purse I sling it over my shoulder, saying goodbyes, and giving a light hug to her room mate. Turning around, I bend over to hug this little old woman.

“Love you, Grandma. I’ll see you next week.”



In His Arms

27 Mar

Lying here in his arms I feel safe

Enveloped in his strength

While I am held in wonder

He sleeps

I marvel at our differences

And all the ways we are the same

He does not have to do much

To make me feel protected

A hand on my hip as we sleep

A call on my phone when I’m running behind

He is my man

I am his woman

For us it is that simple

When the day is too long

When the road is too rough

I close my eyes

And lie in his arms for a moment

There is no other place I would rather be

Than in his arms as we drift to sleep