The Best Worst Thing: Blogging Around with Rommy, Week 39

When my high school sweetheart told me he wanted to break up with me "to date more classically beautiful women" it came as something of a blow. Yeah, even after people told me that high school relationships don't last, and that goes double for ones that turn into long distance things when people go off to college. What can I say? I was kind of clueless when I was young. There were warning signs things weren't rock solid between us, but it took that pronouncement to make things 100% clear it was over.

Of course I cried. I raged. My grades wobbled (the death blow arrived right before finals). Meals came and went untouched. Then one day I took a deep breath and looked at the new reality I found myself in. I didn't have to run back home every weekend anymore. I could be part of college life on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights. I started to realize there was a whole side of myself I never let myself explore, because I had made some pretty big assumptions about what I thought my life was going to be like. 

I took art classes. I liked them enough to decide to minor in them. I started learning about religious traditions other than the one I was born into. I kept exploring them for years afterwards until I could admit to myself my path was more something to be sought by starlight than from a church pew. I started talking to the guy who lived one floor below me in the dorms. He was funny, sweet, and always had a mug of coffee ready for me. Dear reader, I married him. Today we're celebrating the birthday of our oldest child and we'll be married 25 years next May.

That I ever hoped that I could patch things up with my ex seems hysterical now. The other thing that's funny--he's the one who wanted to be a writer back then. Yeah, sometimes your world ends, but that can end up being the best worst thing that can happen.

Song Choice: So Much Better from the musical Legally Blonde

This article was created for Poets United's Moonlight Musings. So dear Groovers, care to talk about some of your best worst things? Let's chat about in the comments section!

Our Own Hallelujah: Blogging Around with Rommy, Week 38

Photo by Diego Morales on Unsplash

It starts at the core of us,
in that layer resistant
to all attempts of taming.

It’s in the way we sway
in that roll of hip and tongue
in that part that rejects respectable
straight jackets that flatten us to one dimension.

Our authenticity is dynamite
ready to blow up outdated definitions.

We sing our whole and holy words
punctuated by hallelujahs
for all of our possibilities.

This poem is linked to Poets United’s Wild Friday and Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads: Just One Word—Dynamite

Liner Notes for this Groove: I’ve read a lot of poetry collections that have moved me. But when I picked up the Poet X by ElizabethAcevedo it was like finding a long-lost family member. All I needed was a can of Inca Cola and a plate of lomo saltado nearby to take me completely back to my childhood. Ms. Acevedo finds so many of the words I felt but couldn’t say as a kid. I have to say I felt a little Molly Grue when I finished it (where was this book when I was young and hungry for something like this?), but I am truly happy to have encountered it at any age.

These Things of Fall

October is my best month, Miki reminded herself, trying to forget the ways that fall was the worst. Her heart thudded as she crossed the graveyard with slow, measured steps that kept pace with the rhyme she repeated whenever she was nervous.

These things of fall make me feel tall
Apples, pumpkins – I love them all
These things of fall make me feel tall
Hot tea, bonfires –I love them all

“How many fall things have you added to that rhyme?” asked Mrs. Donahue as she got up from her morning chore of shaking her head at the condition of the floral arrangements on the graves.

Miki let out a deep breath at the sound of her voice and relaxed her grip on her backpack’s straps. “31 so far.”

“Reverse 13. That’s quite lucky.”

“I know,” Miki beamed.

Mrs. Donahue looked at the position of the sun and looked back at Miki. “You may be pushing your luck if you don’t quicken your pace. Won’t you be late?”

Miki retightened her grip. “I’ve worked out the timing. Even if I’m late it won’t be by much.”

“By much is usually too much for principals, unless things have changed since my day. You wouldn’t be trying to come in late enough times to get your privileges revoked, especially ones that involve public speaking.”

“I didn’t ask for it! I just wanted to submit a piece to the school’s lit magazine. If I knew I’d be reading it in front of the school I wouldn’t have. It’s going to be a disaster.” Miki pictured the mixture of bored looks and sneers in the school auditorium as she read.

“What if it isn’t?”

“I have 16 years of experience that say otherwise.”

“Maybe. But that’s not much when there’s a lot of life ahead of you. Would it help to have some friendly faces there?” Mrs. Donahue motioned behind her.

“It would,” Miki said.   

“Done. Hurry along now. And do tell that groundskeeper to weed this end of the graveyard.”

“Of course.”

Mrs. Donahue faded back into her grave.

Miki left, continuing to sing.

These things of fall make me feel tall
Odd friends who believe in me—I love you all

Art by Sunshine Shelle from her 29 Faces Series in Feb 2015
Follow her on Instagram for more of her delightful art.

Song Choice: Get By With A Little Help From My Friends covered by Peace Conspiracy and Meja 

This flash fiction piece was created for Poets United's Pantry of Poetry and Prose: In October...