Lasting Imprints

I stumble upon the rocks. My toe hits a stone that makes an instant black imprint on where I misplaced it. I curse out loud as I stare down and see all around the mark, a red circle that spreads out like the rain drop hitting the still lake, spreading out.

Just like my heart. It stumbles upon a person, hitting hard, unrelenting as it leaves a mark and spreads throughout my body. Every inch feels the effect of intolerable pain. My stomach clenching, knotting up. My lungs, struggling to breathe like asthma that leaves you begging on your knees for air. Your hands not able to write what needs to be written, your head struggling to make thoughts come together.

Just like a bruise it hurts, and the effect it leaves is an impression. It turns as the days progress. Dark and blue like the storm right before it hits. Your heart as he says he will never come back. It turns a nasty green, like the nights that you yearn for him to be laying next to you. Then to yellow, where you see him at the coffee shop and your heart drops for a second.  And then fades into a lighter color a little bit darker then of your natural skin. You have to look hard to see its there. Just like your heart over time.

Yet the next time I go walking, it seems the rock hits just at the right time.

brother.

I remember...

When you sat in the dirt, yellow turtleneck that showed your stomach, eating red and black bugs that crawled over the rocks running for their lives.

In a yellow bucket with a read handle that I filled with water and dog poop, mixing it until it was a dark brown, making you think it was chocolate milk.

Playing barbies and you driving the barbie car saying it was a "race car" as you mutter "vrooommmm"

Playing house and you always say "Pretend I am..." even after I told you who you were over and over.

Making forts.

Playing on the side of the hill, creating new dirt roads for our cars to go.

Skiing down Boyne and you hitting a jump and flying in the air. Scared to death as you had blood everywhere you smiled and said "COOL"

"Marsh-mellow"

The way you make our entire family laugh at dinner no matter how mad we all are.

"And there was a scorpion THIS big, and an alligator"

You diving off the high board and saying "watch this" as you did a belly-flop.

"Mash tatos, brawcli (whispers)"

I love you pete pete. 

Stress!

With a new job comes new stress, and with new stresses I have to come up with ways to not become a full on troll that lives under the bridge.

Eating copious amount of food has not helped. Though while indulging myself with cookie dough, chips, and cereal, my butt and muffin top scream at me while loading it with a front loader, while my stomach decides to punish me later when I feel like I am going to explode.

I have found working out doesn't help either. Feeling my thighs rub together creating a fire like sensation and my butt needing spandex isn't what I call enjoyable. My dogs hate running (as I have mentioned before) which doesn't help my motivation when they are laying on the floor like a sack of potatoes.

Shopping makes my credit card cry, flirting over text messages only helps me realize I need to get on eharmony to find a new breed of non-douche-baggery and doing laundry can only go so far where I am afraid my water bill will drown itself.

So I resort to my dogs and to the good ol internet. Have you see Sophia Grace on Ellen DeGenerous? You MUST go and youtube that shit immediately. I have decided that if this job doesn't work out I could eat some pork shops, wear a tutu and pray to get hits on the internet while singing Lady GaGa. THough I am sure Sophia's cuteness of an 8 year old is what gets her the stardom I need something to fall back on if this stress eats me alive.

If you think of any ideas, let me know. If you want to pay for a shopping trip, or lipo give me a ring. Until then my lunch break is up and stress calls.

Inhale. Exhale.

Deep Breath. Inhale. Exhale.
Usually my body does this without thinking. I have to tell myself though, breathe.
Inhale. Exhale.
Right before the storm. When the sky turns a dark blue and gray while the white wisps of clouds stand out like a robin against the snow. The thunder rolls, like my stomach on Thanksgiving day, the smell of cinnamon rolls. The sky is about to let go, the rain beating down making the ants scatter, fleeing underneath the brown rich soil.
Breathe. Inhale. Exhale.
My eyes swell with tears. Don't let it pour. Suck it up. Breath. "Don't go," I whipser, "Let me change your mind." The five-o-clock shadow on his face melts into his soul more then just the whiskers on his face. The blue eyes that once reflected the sun is dim, wandering, looking for something to keep himself from going. "I can't," he says wishing that wasn't what his lips created. The door shuts, and the lightning strikes.
Breathe. Inhale. Exhale.
The storm lets loose. Each raindrop bounces off the skin, cold, yet warm, creating a feeling that has never been explained. Cold, wet on the outside, hair standing on edge. Insides warm the way alcohol warms your stomach. As the storm begins the sensation is strong. Every nerve feeling every drop of sadness, dismay, fear. Then  it begins to become numb, as it just pours, letting the sky drain. Nothing left to do but breathe.
Inhale. Exhale.