GmaCis

GmaCis

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Taking the job as an intern felt like walking backwards. I had worked my way up the corporate ladder. I put my time in. Years of proving myself to others and to me. How is it that I am starting all over. A 45 year old intern. I am surrounded by twenty something years olds. I feel more like a mother in the middle of a day care. What they are concerned about are things I already have walked through. Or worse, I do not even understand. Asking would make me feel like an outcast. Words, phrases and actions felt like a different language. Even though they were all speaking English I could not make sense of what they were saying. I wanted more for my life. I had big plans to move myself and daughter out of this town. Now if feels like we will be stuck here forever. I want to scream “not fair”. But to who? Who do I have to share my distress with? I broke up with Tim two month ago. He wanted more than I could give him. With a 15 year old daughter who I have been raising on my own since the day she was born. I was all she had. Tim could not understand the complexity of single parenting. He too had worked his way up the ladder. When he found out I had lost my job he tried to rescue me. He could not see me as an intern as well. I wonder now if it was more of an embarrassment to him than concern. O well, I will never know. We broke up on bad terms. I doubt it we will ever talk again. It is a shame. I do not have many friends, not the kind I could call at wee hours of the night. The kind of friends who would just listen to me without trying to fix me. I am not broken. It is part of life, I am in another transition. I know how to do this. I just never thought in my wildest dreams I would be an intern again. My daughter watches me walk through the motions. This is a time where I can teach her a lesson not with words, no, with my actions. Even though her father has never been involved in her life. He has sent me checks every month for the last 15 years. Enough money to live on, save and give to Darla when the time was right. Work for me was not and has never been about the money. It has been about my passion to be involved in the Ives of people who need care. I have a passion to live from my purpose. This is why stepping back will not kill me. Times have changed since I started in the industry. A knew generation of people coming and going.

The work appeared elementary. Why could I not get my mind around the question. We all gathered around the table. Six associates, one problem. My mind was floating around other thoughts. I could not concentrate on the task at hand. My fellow associate nudged me with his hand. Rubbing my shoulder as if it hurt, I looked at him and said,” what was that for.?” He whispered, “Rachel, get our head in the game.” He could tell I was in a place faraway in thoughts that had nothing to do with problem solving.

The reflection in the mirror was anything but glamour. Grabbing a scarf and tying around her neck. She thought the pink and blue stripes would add a bit of flair to her suit. It had been ten yers since her last job interview. Looking one more time in the mirror, a tear started rolling down her cheek. Grabbing a tissue from her counter top she wiped her leaky eyes with care. The last thing she wanted was to really her make up or worse show up with raccoon eyes. Thinking back, she wondered, where did all her confidence go? Intimidation was sitting in her gut. She felt like her breakfast was going to come up. She forgot that she never ate before interviews. Her nerves always got the best of her. Glancing down at the counter she noticed a piece of paper, the size of a note care. Written on it in big bold red, Brave, Bold, Beautiful You! A card she had been carrying for over 15 years. A friend of hers had given it to her on a wommen’s retreat. It must have fallen out of her bag. No accident, not a coincidence, no a Devine message at just the right moment. She grabbed the card, looked up at the mirror staring at herself she read the card out loud adding and I. “I am Brave, I am Bold, I am Beautiful.” She might not have believed it about herself, yet she knew her friend would not lie. She held the card up to her heart. Whispering a prayer of gratitude and received the words. All three, a reminder of who she was. It dawned on her that glamour was not about how she looked. Glamour was about how she felt, and her thoughts could create those feelings. She also realized that if she cut the word in half she would get our. Our she thought was what she felt about our Three Sisters. The Marco Polo group she belonged to. Our group made her believe she was Brave, Bold and Beautiful. She knew she could stop into that interview feeling like she was a woman of glamour. Not becasue of how she looked. No, it was how she felt. A change of mind, three big words and a sisterhood helped her believe inn herself. One last look in the mirror. She smiled back and said, “you can do this beautiful.” Giggling as she turned away. She grabbed her car keys, briefcase and purse and left for her interview knowing that thanks to her Our she could step into glamour and be the one the chose to join the newest tech company in tow.

bags

Three bags left on her door step. She almost tripped over them when she went outside to seee if she received her newspaper. She had no clue what could have been in those bags. Her mom and brother were staying with her. She wondered if they had ordered something. If so, why would they come I. Brown paper bags open for all to see. She took out some stationary and wrote a note to both of them right after she brought the three bags in. “Mom, Jason, did you order something, if so, these bags might belong to you. If not leave them on the counter. I have a feeling that they might have been delivered here by mistake. The contents look like something Rick across the stree might order. Health food, work out clothes as well as fruit, veggies and protein mix along with a handful of books. Unless one of you started body building, then please by all means put your items away and know I am cheering you on. It is amazing how much the context of ones bags can tell a lot about one person, don’t you both think? I wonder what you would think of if you could see the weekly context of my grocery bags., Sorry to disappoint you both, it will never happen. I am to private of a person. Mother, that should make you happy. You created me to be discreet and the proof is in the bags. I find myself laughing as I think about you both peering into certain areas of my life, maybe even blushing a bit. Not that there is something I am hiding. It is just that I like to keep my life private. If I was on Facebook, that would be my status. Speaking of status, I have been selected as guest speaker of the month by my book club. It is a prestigious selection, one I am honored to say yes to. I will send you both the dates and maybe God willing you can make it together.

bags

Bags under her eyes. A sign of a long night, lack of sleep and a concern for the call that made its way to her instead of her sister. She wondered as she looked at herself in the mirror. How could someone mistaken her for her sister. She never saw the resemblance, except for the bags. Maybe that was it. The bags told a story of them both, hard workers, women who never seemed to have taken a break from work or worry. Even though she exchanged the word from worry to concern, truth be told, she still worried even though the words were swapped. Her biggest “concern” was the future. The relationship between her and her five siblings. They had not gathered as a group since the day they laced their mother to rest. It had been nine years. She missed the six pack, the Perez bunch. She longed to gather together under one roof, one room, the six of them for a reason, non other than connecting. Wounds had kept them apart, yet she was about to change that. When illness hit one, it effected them all. How was she about to tell them? Individually or collectively? The fear of loosing one of the six ran through all their minds. This might be the answer to the reunion she had longed for. Not the circumstances she would want but so be it.

The ringing in her ear had been constant. A reminder of the damage she had encountered for the past two decades. After seeing several doctors with all the same diagnosis, she was determined not to let it affect the work she had begun. Tap, tap, tap, click, click, click, every key seemed to make its own sound through her i

Please pass the hairspray. From across the room I could hear a swoosh. Really! She hollared as the can hit the wall and landed on the bed. “What is up with today?” The two sisters had been in a fights before but nothing like this. They were year a part almost to the day. Most of the time people thought they were twins. Neither of them thought that was cute. They did their best to look anything but alike. No one knew why they were fighting, not even their mom who they both confine in about everything. Ever since they hit 15 and 16 it seems like they are two different people. They had an older brother who was 18 and rarely home. When he was he usually spent his time in the basement creating music and movies. Their mom had past their room when the hair spray was flying across the air. She stepped in and started to say something when the oldest said, “mom, stay out of it!’ Never had she been talked to by either of them like that and in that tone. She was going to get to the bottom of whatever was going on between these two. She had raised them to be best friends. And bet friends is what they had been all these years. What could have caused this break in their relationship? Their dad though it was a boy, that was his first response to his wife. His first conclusion but she couldn’t believe that for a moment. Neither of the girls had any interest in boys at this stage in the life. At least that is what she had thought. Wha could she do to get them to open up. She knew better than to try to force them to share but she also knew she couldn’t ignore wha she was witnessing. She decided to plan to take them out to lunch on the pier. A Sunday brunch and a walk on the beach . It use to be a weekly date after church and Sunday school. That had come to an end several yers back after they had a falling out with the leadership team. It wasn’t that they didn’t believe in a creator or love the teachings of Jesus, they just could not follow a man who thought he himself spoke for God about what others had to say or do. When they stepped away from the team they also stepped away from the community they had been involved in for 15 years. It was not an easy decision but it was a matter of integrity. How could they stay in a system in an organization they no longer believed in? They gave the kids the choice to still go to youth group and for a while they did but they were treated differently due to the falling out with their parents. Rumors started going around about the whole family. People would text them saying they were praying for their salvation and praying for them to come back to the flock. Oh, there was a time when they thought like that. But after all the outreach they did from their own front porch they knew there was more to life than the sinners pray, being dunked and “saved” and giving in a basket to let a group of humans decide how best to distribute your money to the “needy.” When they knew of the needy that were among their own family and neighbors. Was was what was going on with the girls having anything to do with the flail out even after all this time?

“Keep it simple.” The last three words she ever heard her mom speak. The flight back to her hometown felt as if she was flying internationally. The two hours felt like eight. She new there was no chance of jet lag. But she had some kind of lag. Her older brothers were useless. They were use to seeing her mom slowly decline. She on the other hand moved out when she was 18. They had an argument over who knew what was best for her. Now with children of her own, she was flying back to tell her mom “I get it.” But as she walked through the hospital doors it dawned on her, she may never get the chance to. She started beating herself up verbally. Quiet chatter in her head. When she left she believed she believed the world was at her fingertips. Decisions had to be made. She was the executor of mother’s health care finacens. Her mother had been paranoid over the last several year. The backdrop of her family tree looked like old broken branches, dried, splintered bark. When looking at it to long it was hard to see where it began and where it could end. More like a bed of weeds pretending to be a flourishing tree. She could. To be fooled.

Tap, tap, tap, tap! The sound came from the backdrop of the set rehearsals have been going on for three weeks. This was the first time they all heard the tapping. Every night at nine Lisa would be placing the props back in their bins and every night since practice began she heard the noice. Her fellow thespians would tilt their heads and laugh every night she asked “ do you here it no?” She stopped asking after the second week of rehearsals, a question that brought laughter instead of a yes or no. Here they all were gathered around the prop room helping her fill the bins. Everyone forgot about the tapping until everyone remembered. Tap, tap, tap, Tap! No one was laughing at Lisa’s unspoken question. They looked her in the eyes, and without words they could tell she was asking “do you here it now?”

Ouch! The backdrop hit him on the head. He hand practiced the timing in rehearsal at least 6 maybe 7 times. Yet, there he stood with a bruise to prove he once again missed the marked. A battle wound to prove his point.

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writing since 2018 · 38 entries · 35 days shown up

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on this day 8 years ago

GmaCis wrote about crafty
“Crafty, not a word she would use to describe her daughter. When she found out she was having a girl, she started having dreams of the two of them sewing together, dresses, doll clothes, even tiny so…”

the words GmaCis reaches for

mothernowmomenteyesherselfmomtapbagswordsgrouphandpastcarequestionbestword