Mary Frances Lowe Peterson was my great – grandmother. She lived on Blair Road, on the family farm. She was born and raised on the families land tract. She was there, when my mother woke up, as a five year old, smelling smoke and hearing a crackling noise.She alerted the family, saving their lives, from a fiery death. A night they never forgot! They lost everything, but themselves. The little, curly haired cherub, became an instant hero. Mary also lived with my Grandmother, Elizabeth Peterson McInarnay, on Phyllis St. The family had built a house there, following the farm house burning to the ground.
I’m sitting on my couch, my daughter laying sixty feet away, suffering with cancer. I have chosen to not write about this, in the past, because it’s too personal, too overwhelming and there has been too much conflict.
I came home from Costa Rica, February 18, 2019, on an emergency ticket. I went straight to the hospital and proceeded to fall apart. Little by little, I have pieced myself back together, as I sit on the sidelines and watch her CANCER process, played out with the doctors, my sister and her father.
Last night I attended a dinner, for the owners and members, of my Crossfit box – 32034. The food was good, everyone looked great. Beaming faces, with bright eyes, long lashes and big smiles, were on every body present. I felt honored to be a part of.
Luke and Erin Riddell are the owners and coaches of a new box on Amelia Island.
After we ate and socialized, they got up and gave a talk about what their Crossfit Box meant to them. Yes, it’s about health and fitness, but it’s also about community and being a better person.
In their prayers, they had asked for thirty members. And as stewards they would assist the members to be able to go out and be lights in the community.
The evening had a feeling of warmth, and a nurturing family.
Following a death, engulfed in grief, people can take on the energy, of an out-of- control fire, behaving erratically and moving in a direction, that creates a veering and unpredictable path. They search for a target to blow their vaporous, hot air of anger. They want to hurt someone. Modern day mourners zero in on their quarry and begin to hurl their bombs. Hate filled words are the ammunition and cell phones are their technological armory. Continue reading Blocked and Deleted/Yet Another Battle in a War I Thought Was Over
You have one man, with volcanic rage, simmering below the surface of his skin. You have one woman who is iron clad and formidable, prepared to protect the family at all cost. Each has their own story, steeped in alcohol, violence and money. Smiles would turn to grimaces – smile, frown – smile, frown – it was a dodge ball game. You would eventually get slammed.
Then take the kid. Twelve years old, eager to please; anxious to get every detail correct.
Internal thoughts have a way of surfacing, lingering, and then diving to the nadar of my existence, only to break through my encephalon, carrying crayons. I must have a window to spend time staring out of. It creates a division of mental gymnastics, pulling thread through my thoughts and gluing glitter across the nature on the other side of the pain. Continue reading The Family Finances
verb 1 [ no obj. ] (center around/on or center something around/on) have or cause to have something as (a major concern or theme): the case centers around the couple’s adopted children | the plot centers on two young men | [ with obj. ] : he is centering his discussion on an analysis of patterns of mortality. • (be centered in) (of an activity) occur mainly in or around (a specified place): the mercantile association was centered in northern Germany. 2 [ with obj. ] place in the middle: to center the needle, turn the knob. • Football pass the ball back from the ground to another player to begin a down; snap.