2015: 1 COLD

Late start, again… Here’s my Project 52 humble beginning.

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That’s one handsome hubs

Yes, he’s mine.
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The flow

“Mom, I got my period.” She says as though receiving a report card she’d been waiting on.  She doesn’t smile (who would?) and says it so timidly.

Surely she must know that her snappy attitude of the past 72 hours gave me an idea that something was up.  And now, after an emergency stop during our shopping trip, she confirms it: she has traveled the path and arrived at her womanhood. 

There’s nothing awkward in the conversation that follows,  just the discussion of logistics and next steps. It’s a natural part of growing up and she’d been warned by everyone that it was coming.  Her only worry has been that it’d arrive during class, like it did for some girl in white pants last year. But she welcomed hers on the weekend,  and she had no fear.

Ever since her discovery, she’s been waiting – just waiting – to feel something different, but there really is no difference. She’s no different today than she was yesterday or the day before this miraculous discovery. It’s Just that now she’s fully immersed in puberty (and with a newly confirmed boyfriend in tow!).

Poor thing she said she’s not “craving chocolate,” nor is she “moody” (that’s not true, believe me). She “must be doing something wrong,” she says. But there’s no wrong or right as far as periods go. It’s just a cycle of life that never seems to end.

She is wondering why she doesn’t “hate it.” All her friends complain about theirs. Next month, I’m sure she’ll know why and will no longer be excited about this new, wonderful thing that is happening to her little body. No, next month she will not be welcoming Aunt Flow. She’ll  wish that this frequently visiting relative would just go.

Boys, boys, boys!

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w IMG0036For days, the boys had been plotting a photo session. They’d picked out and pressed coordinating shirts and jeans. They’d debated the use of hats and who would wear what color. And they’d requested my assistance in selecting a location.

Feeling a bit under the weather – which had become all to common this December – I finally agreed to their shoot. We bundled up, fighting the deceptively cold air that contradicted the reported temperatures.

The boys shed their coats and stood awkwardly next to each other waiting for direction. And it took a bit of coaxing to get each into positions that looked comfortable. It took longer, still, to persuade them to “think warm” and relax tensed faces.

There were only a few shots of each of my guys, but I think their personalities are really featured. JD looks apprehensive – as though uncertain of his purpose in posing and unfamiliar with the camera. It’s no wonder, as I rarely get to capture him in pictures. Rico looks like he’s working on his “smooth operator” status. And Ya? Well, he’s showing his usual defiant, “I don’t want to be here” look.

Yes, these are my three gents.

Rocking into 2015

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Sick.

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That was your temperature at its peak.
Hot to the touch, warmth unnaturally radiating.
You, dormant and melancholy, cling to me.
Company, up close, is all you crave.
With a sweeping hand, you cast away all food offered to you.
Occassionally, you whisper “Ju” and reach out.
You sip cautiously, testing the flavor of the juice given to you as it glides up the straw and into slightly parted lips.
Seconds later, you push the cup away.
Body shudders, coughs choke.
You watch television through glazed eyes, hardly interested in what is on.
But when it’s time for medicine, suddenly you become fiesty, “No ju!” you proclaim with finality.
Your hands cover your ears.
Your mouth clamps shut.
Legs flail.
And you battle ceaselessly against taking each assigned dose.
You try to shake your head.
You spit out whatever you can.
You scream, holler, and cry simultaneously.
When the syringe is empty, you fall still again.
Eyelids drooping, body motionless.
Double ear infection.
Flu.

Seven days without our Ri.
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