Letters For Lucas

Wonders, Mishaps, Blunders and Joy.. commentary on my life as a mom in the form of letters to my son

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Mysterious Ways

Posted on February 10, 2011 Written by Tonya

I could never have imagined that my parents would not meet my son.

It didn’t once enter my thought process when I dreamed about having a family. In my mind, two sets of grandparents were always part of that equation.

Being a parent without parents never ever crossed my mind.

They should be here.

My son should have two sets of grandparents.

My mother and father should know Lucas.

Lucas should know my mother and father.

He will.

Lucas will know my parents through me and my husband and my sister and anyone else that wants to tell him about what amazing people they were. He’ll hear that he reminds us of them in small ways; like a simple expression on his face that looks just like one my mother would make when she was giddy with excitement and big ways, too, like Lucas’ insatiable curiosity that was so similar to my father’s and how they were taken from all of us too soon.

But it’s not the same.

Lucas is missing being able to go to a Red Sox game with my dad, hear first hand about the small town in Texas where he grew up. He is missing learning about stamp collecting, how to make the perfect Orange Julius and the intrigue of film-noir movies.

Lucas is missing holding my mother’s soft hands, devouring her scrumptious chocolate chip cookies and celebrating each and every holiday with gusto, as only she knew how.

Lucas is missing out on so much.

But they are missing out too.

I have a beautiful, smart, funny, awesome son and just once, I’d love for my parents to able to hear his magical laughter every time I chase him around the park.

Losing my mother and father at such an early age, mine and theirs respectively, is unfathomable. But, sometimes the universe works in mysterious ways and the unfathomable happens. I lost my parents and less than a year later became pregnant with Lucas. I suffered the greatest loss of my life and then gained light and hope and more joy than I ever thought my heart could hold.

I could never have imagined that my parents would not meet my son or that they wouldn’t be here longer than they were, but the way I used to think changed and then the whole world shifted.

If want to know more about how I lost my parents, please read For My Broken Heart.

This post is for The Red Dress Club’s writing meme, Red Writing Hood. This weeks prompt was to write a post that begins with the line, “I could never have imagined” and ends with the line, “Then the whole world shifted.”

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Filed Under: difficult subjects, grandparents, KRA, loss, love, MSA, red writing hood Tagged With: difficult subjects, grandparents, KRA, loss, love, MSA, red writing hood

The First Time

Posted on January 20, 2011 Written by Tonya

“Won’t it hurt?”

“It doesn’t have to.”

“What will my parents say?”

“They don’t even have to know about it.”

“Surely they’ll be able to tell.”

“Not really, you can hide it.”

“I’m scared it’s going to be written all over my face.”

“I’ll be right there with you. Let’s just do it and get it over with.”

“Well, I have always wanted to.”

“Exactly. It’s time. What are you waiting for? I mean, you are 17!”

“Yeah, I just don’t want it to hurt.”

“It’s different for everyone, but really it’s all over before you know it.”

“How many times have you done it?”

“Three. This will be my fourth.”

“Your fourth?! I had no idea! Didn’t know you were an old pro.”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“Okay, I’m ready. I think I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. But let’s hurry before I change my mind.”

“I am so excited for you! And don’t worry, we’ll fix your hair so your ears won’t even show.”

This post is fiction and was written for The Red Dress Club’s writing meme, Red Writing Hood. This weeks prompt is: write a post using solely dialogue.

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Filed Under: fiction, red writing hood Tagged With: fiction, red writing hood

Her Secret*

Posted on January 14, 2011 Written by Tonya

It had become more than a necessity.

It was now her crutch.

It was more than taking the edge off, it was her coping mechanism.

She was lonely, tired, stressed out and didn’t care.

Beer, wine and the occasional shot of Jägermeister wasn’t cutting it anymore.

Never much of a drinker before motherhood or all of the disappointments and responsibilities, she learned to acquire a taste.

She used to believe that she wouldn’t smell like alcohol if she drank vodka, because vodka is unflavored. It’s made from the finest winter wheat and the softest glacier waters.

She soon learned this was nonsense. Vodka is hugely alcoholic (80 proof) and she wreaked of a distillery after drinking it.

She rarely saw her husband, he traveled most weekdays and on the weekends, they tried their best to stay out of each others way. Neither of them could remember the last time they had a conversation which involved looking into each others eyes.

She tended to the children and each of their every single needs; speech therapy, birthday parties, play dates, swimming lessons, laundry, meals… the list was never ending and overwhelming.

She did her best to hide the smell from the children and anyone else she had to come in contact with by carrying Altoids and other minty gums, hard candy and throat lozenges. She claimed she had terrible allergies that gave her a scratchy throat. Halls brand cough drops were the best to disguise the stench.

She was beautiful once. A prom queen. An aspiring attorney, doctor, scientist. She could have been anything, but only completed two and half years of college and married the first guy that asked her to. She was pregnant before their first anniversary and had two more children immediately following. They were 4, 2, and 9 months.

This week’s bottle was from Russia with love:

1894 St. Petersburg
Imperia Russian Vodka
Crystal Quartz
Filtered
40% alcohol by volume 750 ml.

It should last her three days.

There were many days that were a complete blur. Days when she couldn’t account for a single thing she said or did. She missed lunch dates, doctor appointments, pick-ups and drop offs. She tended to the kids, but her needs always came first. She was numb and she liked it that way.

Hidden way back in the cupboard, behind the multiple boxes of cereal, an old broken coffee maker and the glass cake plate that only was used three times a year, for each of her children’s birthdays, is where she kept her secret.

She let out an audible sigh of relief just reaching for it. Except today, is was empty.

She panicked as she wondered, how did that happen? She had just cracked it open the night before.

Scurrying around the house, she knew there had to be another bottle somewhere.

She checked under the sink.

Empty.

Her underwear drawer.

Empty.

The diaper bag.

Empty.

The back of the toilet.

Empty.

How much had she drank today? She didn’t want to know.

She only wanted more.

She would have to leave the children alone in front of the television and make a run to the liquor store.

Again.

*While I have been known to enjoy a bloody Mary or cranberry vodka with no less than three limes from time to time, this post is purely fiction. And the bottle I found in my pantry is probably over three years old!

This post is for The Red Dress Club’s writing meme, Red Writing Hood. This weeks prompt is: grab something out of your pantry and write a short piece – using all the words in the ingredients. It can be fiction or non-fiction, poetry or prose.

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Filed Under: fiction, red writing hood Tagged With: fiction, red writing hood

Vegas On My Mind

Posted on January 7, 2011 Written by Tonya

An amusement park for adults.
Beautiful bodies in barely there bikinis.
Casinos full of eager players trying to keep their cool and their cash.
Dressed to the nines, dancing until the stilettos must come off and the sun comes up.
Entertainment everywhere you turn.
Fearless, foolish, fun.
Great friends getting together for a girl’s trip!
Hot spots, high energy and hangovers.
Inhibitions revealed.
Jackpot. Jokers wild.
Seven come 11. Bet. Push. Stay.
Knowing you are going to hurt in the morning.
Lights, loud music, “LOVE”.
Mandalay Bay, Monte Carlo, MGM, Mirage.
Never. Coming. Again. Is what we always tell yourself, yet…
Once you’re there, one night is never quite long enough.
Poolside cocktails in the hot summer sun.
Quick escape, dangerously only an hour away.
Risk. Roll of the dice. Reward.
Smoke-filled rooms full of sparkle, shimmer and shine.
Time stands still and taunts you to stay up later.
Under dressed, over exposed and within reach.
VIP all the way.

Winner winner, chicken dinner!
X-rated, overrated, under estimated, it’s Vegas, baby!
Y
earning for a shower. And a nap.
Zzzzz.

This post is for The Red Dress Club’s writing meme, Red Writi
ng Hood. This weeks prompt is: write a short piece – fiction, non-fiction, poetry, whatevs – in which each sentence starts with the next letter of the alphabet. Starting with “A.” So, yes, your finished product will consist of 26 sentences.

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Head Over Heels

Posted on December 9, 2010 Written by Tonya

When just the mere mention of his name makes my heart melt and beat a little faster.

When that first recognition of my existence made me feel like I could do anything.

When he reaches for me, it’s as though I’m the only person in the world.

When he smiles at me and it is so sweet and tender, it makes me want to cry.

It’s a want it, need it, gotta have it feeling that I’ve never felt before.

It’s that kind of love.

Sure, I’ve loved before; the comfort of my own bed, a perfectly worn in pair of jeans, a Dave Matthews song I’ve heard a thousand times before that will never lose it’s impact on me, the scent of my grandmother’s perfume that enveloped me every time I entered her house and my best friend, because she’s everything I’m not and can make me laugh like no one else on earth.

But, I’ve never loved or been loved like this before.

So intensely.

So completely.

So unconditionally.

He is a part of me and no matter what, he always will be.

The love I have for my son’s father is deep and passionate and it’s because of the love we share that I have this precious child at all, but it’s a different kind of love.

There is nothing like the love a mother has for her son.

This is my first attempt at The Red Dress Club’s writing meme, Red Writing Hood. This weeks prompt is: Write a short first-person story about your first love, or write a short fiction piece about a character’s first love.

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Filed Under: love, parenthood, red writing hood, TBW Tagged With: love, parenthood, red writing hood, TBW

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