It's About Community, People

Even if I did not have family and friends in the police force and other branches of law enforcement, I would still say this: they are there to help protect you and help you watch out for your neighborhood. Here is why I am currently making this statement: for the last couple of months, an SUV has been making me suspicious because of its behaviours near my house: parking in front of my house at odd hours, incredibly unsafe driving, and odd interactions between the driver and other people in or outside the SUV. It also tends to make regular visits to a lot and an apartment building near my place, which I can see from my hose. My neighbors and I have been keeping each other informed about it.

Saying Good-Bye

As she was leaving the library, she noticed that she had missed a call from her mother. As she listened to the message, her heart squeezed.

"I'm sorry to call you on your work cell, but I am trying to reach you. Your uncle is in the hospital. It doesn't look good."

Mother, Daughter

She was young to become a mother, only sixteen. Yet, a mother she became. A daughter had a daughter, becoming a mother, but what it was to be an adult, she still had yet to discover. She took steps down her path, made her way through a woods that became twisted, full of quagmires and brambles. Her daughter was her focus, a reason to survive anyway that she could. Her ties with her own parents became strained, love there, but not always acknowledged.

Keep Your Hands Off of Her

You beat her up, tore her down. With words, you shamed her, manipulated her, broke her into pieces. With words, you told her she was worthless, helpless, ugly, weak, and damaged. With words, you told her that she was unfit to be a mother, that she could not raise her daughter. With words, you sent the heart she had given you into a frozen wasteland. You demeaned her, stole her vitality, broke her spirit.

How do you feel? Does it make you feel that much more of a man to know you can tear a woman down like that? Does it make you feel strong to know that with words alone you can make her feel as if she has no worth at all? Do you take pride when she says it was her fault?

You are sick.

Body Contact

The sounds of grunts, muttered exclamations, flesh slapping flesh, and bodies hitting the hard, wood floor echoed through the room, interspersed with sudden bursts of laughter. The couple grappling on the floor strained against each other, the woman fighting to free herself from the choke hold and the legs pinning her own legs apart. She was on top of her male opponent, back pressed against his chest as she strained to free herself. The woman was scrabbling at the arm around her neck, when a startled exclamation was heard.

Adventures of a Downtown Coffee Cafe

I would say the day started like any other day, following the cliche, but it didn't. Not really. The first few hours were fairly standard... and then, downtown decided to remind my staff and I just what it could be like. Business was picking up in the morning and I had just taken the opportunity that a lull presented to deal with the parking meters for the couple of us that had vehicles. On my way back into the cafe, I noticed that one of downtown's regular hang-abouts was in his usual spot, holding court with a sizable group of street teens. As I walked passed them, on the other side of the street, I could hear a conversation that seemed to about fighting, which was accompanied by the expected motions. While the hang-about was known to collect these younger kids about him, it was unusual for him to be surrounded by so many at one time, especially this early in the morning. I thought it wise that a wary eye was kept on him and the group.

You Bastard

You bastard.

You come rolling into my life, demanding that I make changes, that I accommodate you. You blithely enter the fire of my principles and perceptions, demanding that I see them as wrong or too tightly held. You insist that you are right, that I am wrong, that there is no other thought. You force your way into my mind, rattling the shelves and drawers, shuffling the papers, rearranging the labels, and then have the audacity to wonder why my brain does not shut off as it tries to make sense of the topsy-turvy mess.

You bastard.

A routine has been set; daily questioning, considering, revamping. With words and actions, a consistent prodding is being done.  More fool me, I cannot bring myself to completely deny your self-given permission to challenge me, my perceptions, my scruples. You tease, seduce, debate, laugh, converse, and demonstrate in your effort to loosen the hold, change the mindset, grow a different understanding.

You bastard.

Baby Boy

I walked quietly down the hallway, feeling the weight of Baby Boy against my back.  His little body generated an amazing amount of heat; the warmth and feel of his solid weight against my back something I wouldn’t trade for anything.  My arms were locked under his little rear to hold him up, while the fleece jacket held him snugly against my back.  His head tossed back and forth as he fought against falling asleep.  The little man alternated between trying to keep his head off of my back to watch the activity occurring in the hallway, to pressing his little face against the back of my neck, to tucking his forehead into the exposed skin between my shoulder blades.  His left hand intermittently kneaded my ribs, occasionally fisting in my shirt, and then moving restlessly across my back.  A small sigh escaped, followed by a very quiet “Dada,” melting my heart. 

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