remembeRED

In An Instant

Posted on December 7, 2011 Written by Tonya

This post was written for Write on Edge’s writing meme, RemembeRED. This week’s prompt: Take the next ten minutes to write about the first single memory that the word CRASH calls up.

Before you read it you should know that I misread the instructions. I thought it was an exercise in flash fiction, not flash memoir. This is FICTION!

Metal on metal. Loud and angry, it sounds like a lion roaring.

She reached for her head. Her eyeglasses were gone and as she looked down at her hand and it was wet. She ran her fingers over her palm and wondered if it was blood.

Blinding lights filled the car and a siren wailed in the distance.

She could figure out what her son was doing in the front seat when his car seat was positioned directly behind her. His gaze was empty and his body contorted.

The road was slick and visibility was difficult. She knew better. She should have never gone out in this weather. She should have left her two-year-old safe and warm at home with his grandmother.

Through her haze and swelling head she suddenly remembered, she missed the corner.

The windshield wipers moved back and forth deliberately pushing water away.

She had made the biggest mistake of her life that night; in her haste to grab an umbrella, she forgot to buckle in her sweet baby boy.

Everything she knew changed in a single instant, but the memory of it will last forever.

An Inherited Love

Posted on November 21, 2011 Written by Tonya

Home: the place where my husband and son are.

Both people bring so much comfort and joy to my life, but I am truly at my happiest in one of two other places; walking along the beach with the warm sun kissing my face, watching seagulls fly overhead, getting lost in my thoughts while at the same time completely clearing my mind. The salt air does wonders for my soul and the sound of the waves calm me.

My third favorite place to be, the place I find the most relaxing is a bookstore.

I miss the independent shops and the knowledgeable sales staff, the ones that actually read and can recommend something you’ve never heard of and fall completely in love with after the first chapter.

Books are magical; the way they feel and smell and line up against one another on shelves. I appreciate their ability to take our hand and transport us to another place and time.

Being in a bookstore is peaceful and I have spent hours walking up and down the aisles searching for inspiration, discovering it, exploring new topics, taking in the faint scent of print and coffee and relishing the quiet.

My love of bookstores, I inherited from my father. Sometimes he’d walk out of a one having spent hundreds of dollars and others, not one cent. The smile on his face was detectable either way.

Image courtesy of Pinterest. Click photo for source information.

This post was written for Write on Edge’s writing meme, RemembeRED. This week’s prompt: write about a (real) place that makes you feel peaceful. Where is your quiet place? What does it look like? What happens there? Word limit is 200. Constructive criticism is welcome.

Heartbeat

Posted on October 3, 2011 Written by Tonya

I am 10 minutes early.

After signing my name on the first available line, I sit and wait.

Deliberately I thumb through magazines, one after the other as families of four smile up at me from the glossy pages.

It’s finally my turn.

I am ushered to a dark room and asked to undress.

The image on the large screen above me is fuzzy, difficult to make out and yet somehow I know.

My hands begin to sweat and I am holding my breath.

“I’m sorry, there is no heartbeat.”

A sound I have never made before escapes my throat.

This post is for Write On Edge’s weekly writing assignment RemembRED. This week’s prompt: Conjure something. An object, a person, a feeling, a color, a season – whatever you like. But don’t tell me what it is, conjure it. 100 words or less. Constructive criticism is welcome.

Back To 1991

Posted on September 12, 2011 Written by Tonya

I was assigned my first e-mail address as a Freshman at the University of Arizona. It was 1991.

Professors were suppose to connect with their students regarding classes and assignments via electronic mail, but no one had a computer in those days. Students and faculty alike were meant to use the computer lab in a building several blocks from my dorm.

I can count on one hand how many times in my four years I attended college that I visited the computer lab.

All of my college papers were written on a Brother ML-500 Electronic Word Processing Typewriter. I thought I was so state of the art with my dozens of floppy disks.

My first encounter with the Internet was also in college, circa 1995. My boyfriend at the time had a desk top computer (talk about state of the art), a giant piece of machinery that took up the entire surface of his kitchen table. He even had a printer. He used an online communications system called Prodigy.

He boasted how he could “look up” anything and information would be provided right there on the screen in front of us. Sure enough, as soon as I blurted out “Madonna”, he printed out a one page biography of the controversy-making pop queen. I was astounded.

Fast forward to 2011 and you will find “248,000,000 results on ‘Madonna’ in 0.16 seconds.” on Google.

To say that times have changed is a gross understatement.

By 1996, I was on a computer every day at work, but had yet to experience the world wide web. I did have an AOL account and would go home on my lunch break to IM friends. It was amazing, just like having a phone conversation, but better and way more fun.

Five years later, my parents bought me my first lap top on which I spent hours on e-mail and on-line shopping. My favorite shopping cart at the time was at Amazon.com. Since 2001, I have made over 100 purchases on Amazon.com (of course they keep track).

Sharing this new technology with my father was for lack of a better word, sweet and amusing. He never quite accepted the concept that what you found on the Internet would remain there for you to recall another time and so he would print out everything. Having hard copies made him comfortable not to mention killed a lot of trees.

What I have found in my 15 years of Internet experience is that as long as you own a computer (or an iPhone) and have Internet access, virtually (pun intended) anything is possible.

The Internet is the best and arguably the evilest invention ever. Everything is available right at our finger tips.

Today we get our world news, entertainment and weather on line. We Tweet, Pin and Stumble. We order groceries, diapers and the latest fashions, we research, find support, self-diagnose, fall in love, plan a wedding, prepare for a baby, book an exotic vacation and connect with our entire high school graduating class, even if we never said a word to them in person. We play Scrabble with our neighbors and laugh out loud to videos of giggling babies, we download, upload, bookmark, backup and can hide away from the world if we choose.

It’s sad when you stop and think about it. With the Internet, the need for real human interaction is almost unnecessary.

Knowing what I know now, I wonder if I could go back to 1991. Could you?

This post is for Write On Edge’s weekly writing assignment RemembRED. This week’s prompt: recall those early memories of being online.

At Ease

Posted on August 15, 2011 Written by Tonya

We held hands the entire drive home from the therapist’s office.

Relief.

A decision had been reached.

The words spoken out loud.

Later would come the tears. And questions.

So many questions.

Some people offer disconcerting looks, you know the one that says, “oh, I’m sorry, I brought it up.” and then quickly ask if I got married too young, like that’s a suitable excuse.

“No, we were 27 and 30 respectively,” I answer matter-of-factly and in my mind think: old enough to have been around the block a couple of times, but young enough to still believe that love conquers all.

A lot of people don’t even bat an eye and a few are shocked as hell at the discovery.

I was married before I met Lucas’ father.

Over 50% of all marriages in the U.S. end in divorce. I am not proud to be a part of this group. I know it shamed my parents, especially my father. I apologized to him over and over again.

My ex-husband and I met in college, dated for three years, broke up for six months, reunited, were engaged for a year and married for almost three years. No one did anything wrong in our marriage, but neither of us happy. We shared some good times, great laughs and I don’t regret a single moment I spent with him, but somehow I knew our marriage wouldn’t last.

No one gets married to get divorced, but sometimes love doesn’t conquer all. It’s native to think it does. I know this now. Sometimes priorities are warped, you lose sight of yourself in spite of yourself and over time realize the person you thought you fell in love with is someone else entirely. People change. It’s as simple and as complicated as that.

I knew something was missing.

It was me.

I was missing from my own marriage!

From the moment I said, “I do,” my true authentic self began disappearing. It was slow at first and then like a whirlwind. I became this odd matronly figure that wore clothes that were a size too big and I started buying trivets and cookie jars. I was trying to be the “perfect” wife, knowing full well that no such thing existed. The more I lost myself, the sadder I became. Then I focused on trying to make myself believe that I was okay with being content.

Content.

I hate that word.

All the sacrifices and compromises weren’t worth it and in then end, I was only compromising myself.

We spent several months in mid 2002 trying to figure out what to do and if our marriage was salvageable. We sought marriage counseling and finally after many sessions and sleepless nights decided to go our separate ways. It was, to date the hardest decision I have ever been faced with.

My ex-husband is a good guy; charismatic and ambitious. He has a wonderful family and had an all-American upbringing. We wanted different things and in an effort to be true to ourselves had to say goodbye to one another.

I haven’t seen him since early 2008. He attended my parents memorial service, which was both unexpected and sweet. We’re Facebook friends (I think?) and we exchange yearly holiday cards and the occasional e-mail. He is remarried and has children and I hope more than anything is happy.

Anything but content.

I’ll never forget that drive home that hot August night.

As sad as I was, I was at ease.

This post is for Write On Edge’s weekly writing assignment RemembRED. This week’s prompt was: Write about a moment in your life when you knew something had to change drastically. Maybe it was a relationship, or career, parenting, school, diet – anything.

A Fine Mess

Posted on May 2, 2011 Written by Tonya

I didn’t come undone.

I was in shock for sure and completely devastated, but I didn’t lose my shit.

I couldn’t.

I couldn’t come unglued.

I had a younger sister to consider.

I had a younger sister that had just lost her parents and if I thought I was too young at 35 to be going through this, she was definitely too young at 23.

Not to mention, there was so much to be done.

So many decisions that needed to be made right away. There were phone calls to make, e-mails to send, notes to take, questions to ask, the repatriation of their bodies, a funeral home to select, urns to chose, a service to prepare for, documents, signatures, lawyers, and then ultimately, homes to clear out and an estate to settle.

I didn’t make any of tough decisions alone. Thankfully, I had my husband and my sister by my side, but it still felt like I was the one in charge.

My emotions could wait.

I thought I could delay my grieving process just a little longer.

Of course, I was wrong, so….

Four days after the memorial service, I returned to work in search of normalcy. Almost a year later I quit my job and discovered a new normal all together.

In the year that followed my parents deaths, I exercised like a maniac, which made me feel stronger physically. It also created endorphins that made me feel better mentally. Today, I’m an endorphin junkie!

I talk about my loss with anyone that will listen in a honest and open way.

I seek help in the form of a grief counselor or a glass of wine at the end of a particularly rough day, but have never turned to antidepressants.

I work through and with my sadness.

I cry.

I go through photos and momentos and remember.

I write.

A lot.

I could have curled up in a little ball and shut the world out, I could have let this tragic loss break me, but I made a conscious decision not to. It hurt like hell, but I chose to put one foot in front of the other and just keep living.

Some may say I’ve pushed my grief aside in an effort to avoid it or that I have compartmentalized it; placing it neatly on a shelf to address at another time, but I assure you I DEAL with it every day. It’s always there.

It is definitely a long and arduous process but I have learned that I am stronger than I ever thought I could be and I am very proud of the way I have navigated through such uncharted territories, especially considering I became a mother right smack dab in the middle of it all.

This post is for The Red Dress Club’s writing assignment, RemebeRED. This week’s prompt was: Tell the story (without any trivialization or modesty) of something in your life that you are proud of.

post signature

School Days

Posted on March 29, 2011 Written by Tonya

From 1976-1979, my parents taught on an Indian reservation in Sells, Arizona. My mother taught kindergarten and my father, high school U.S. history.

For reasons I’m unclear of, I attended a Catholic school in a different district for kindergarten and first grade, almost nine miles away in Topawa. My family isn’t Catholic.

The scent of Play-Doh and Coppertone, riding my Big Wheel up and down the sidewalk in front of our house, skinned knees, playing house, watching the Donnie and Marie Show, too much sugar cereal and wishing I was older all remind me of my childhood, but it’s six very distinctive events that stand out when I think back to being four and five years old and my first school days:

1. I got to ride the school bus all by myself for what I now know was only 20 minutes, but back then felt like 90. How grown up I felt. It was frightening too, especially the time that I missed my stop and a policeman escorted the bus to pull over so that I get off after multiple radio calls were made regarding my whereabouts. I knew full well that the light haired, light eyed little girl they were talking about was me.

2. I stapled my finger to see what it would feel like and I quickly learned that it hurt like hell as I stood there bleeding my ruby red blood all over Miss Mills’ desk with big crocodile tears streaming down my face. I’ve never done that again!

3. Catholic nuns can be both vicious and the most endearing women on the planet.

4. Case and point: Once Sister Trecel made me eat a banana at lunch even though I told her that it would make me sick. When I threw up all over her and her starch black and white habit, she sent me home with a note of apology to my parents pinned to my shirt.

5. Naps… need I say more? Actually, it is not the naps that I recall so much as the uncomfortable green army cots and the giant pools of drool that I remember most of all. Not mine, mind you. I also remember laying there for what seemed like forever listening to my class mates snore. I still can’t nap.

6. When Miss Mills asked us to draw a picture of our family, I drew my mother, father, myself and my baby sister. Miss Mills called my mother that evening to congratulate her on our family’s new addition. My sister, Leah wouldn’t be born for another eight years. Gulp! Thinking back on this family portrait always reminds me how much I longed for a sibling.

Two big years of my young life as defined by six small events that stand out very clearly in my adult head.

This post is for The Red Dress Club’s writing assignment, RemembeRED. This week’s prompt was to remember kindergarten.

post signature

Right On Ludington

Posted on March 7, 2011 Written by Tonya

I don’t know why I did it.

I wouldn’t normally consider myself a stalker.

Yet, I found myself drawn to the mid-sized maroon Saturn for several blocks.

The young woman driving the car was crying.

Sobbing, in fact.

At stop lights she would wipe her eyes, blow her nose and wail. It was a sunny day and both of our driver-side windows were down and I could feel her pain.

She was oblivious to anyone around her. Why is it when we are in our cars we believe we are alone and safe from the outside world?

I continued to follow her.

I was intrigued.

What would make her weep like that and where was she going?

Did she just lose her job? A loved one? Was she mourning the loss of a relationship? Did she find out she was pregnant or maybe not any more? Perhaps she had received medical results of another kind and the prognosis was grim? Maybe it was as simple as a poignant song that came on the radio and weeks of tension were finally being released as she quietly sang along. Whatever it was, my heart went out to her.

Why?

Because I’ve been that woman.

When the Saturn turned right on Ludington Street, I kept going straight giving her the space she deserved.

This post is for The Red Dress Club’s writing assignment, RemembeRED. This week’s prompt was to imagine you are meeting someone for the first time. You want to tell them about yourself. Instead of reciting a laundry list of what you do or where you’re from, describe a scene from your life that best illustrates your true self.

In An Instant

Related Posts:

An Inherited Love

Related Posts:

Heartbeat

Related Posts:

Back To 1991

Related Posts:

At Ease

Related Posts:

A Fine Mess

Related Posts:

School Days

Related Posts:

Right On Ludington

Related Posts:

Related Posts:

Related Posts:

Related Posts:

Related Posts:

Related Posts:

Related Posts:

Related Posts:

Related Posts:

What I Write About