what if

I know I've been absent for quite some time, but I haven't found inspiration in any of the prompt sites I've been visiting. I found inspiration in something else today...

I always loved the *choose your own adventure* books - you know, the ones where you'd get to the end of a page and you could choose to go to page 42 for one response to a situation or you could go to page 189 for another response. Somehow, I'd read through those books over and over again just to see if I could find out what all of the possible scenarios were. Sometimes, I'd die a horrible death and sometimes I'd solve the mystery and be a hero. It made for some interesting afternoons.

Driving home from a meeting today, a complete stranger honked at me and saluted as he passed. As his bumper came into view, I saw that he had a *Semper Fi* sticker and a USMC *eagle, globe, and anchor* as well. Remember that I am driving my brother's truck: the brother who was a Marine; the brother who died almost seven years ago. That honk and salute got me to thinking about the big What If.

What if Doobie had not gone to work for that hitch. What if he had decided to stay home, where he was living with my sister, and just hang out for the whole week instead. He only worked 7 on/7 off. What if he had decided to go to work but decided not to do that last little bit of work - whatever it was that caused him to fall. What if he decided to do that last little bit of work, but had NOT unbuckled his safety harness. What if. What if. What if...

I can't imagine what my life would be like now if he hadn't died. I can't begin to pick one part of my life that I would change except for him not being here. This is where the real questions start popping up in my head. (you have to remember that I am overly analytical in my head when it comes to imagining situations) What would be different? Would I have bought my house? Probably not. Would my sister have gotten pregnant when she did? Probably not. If I didn't have my house, and my sister hadn't gotten pregnant, would I have even still been here in this town when I met my husband? Who knows? I get that Jimmy-Stewart-It's-A-Wonderful-Life-but-in-a-different-way feeling. Who's to say why things happen when they do? If everything happens for a reason, for some kind of cosmic balance, why do they happen?

Sometimes I make myself feel better (for a little while at least) and think that surely The Almighty would never make my mother suffer the loss of another child. Then I think about my dad's Aunt Dorothy who lost three of her four children. I think about the mothers in time from beginning to end who have lost children for whatever reason. I know that I'm no more special than anyone else and I can't even begin to imagine the anguish of burying my own flesh and blood - that I carried and nurtured in my womb and loved before I could even hear a heartbeat or feel a soft cheek. I could barely stand to leave her in the hospital nursery for photo-therapy treatment.

I am at a loss for words. I cannot think how to end this. All I can think now is What If.

sunday scribblings

#98 - Sleep

As I lay in bed this morning with my husband's arm across my neck and chest, I thought about one other man I enjoyed sharing my bed with: my brother.

He was a long, lanky thing with Clint Eastwood arms that could wrap around me twice. Although I remember lugging him around on my hip, I can also remember his picking me up and twirling me or my sister around as if either of us weighed nothing.

I don't know when the tradition started, but I remember the three of us snuggling up in the same bed every Christmas eve for most of our years. I would have to sleep in the middle because both of them were too hot natured to endure the oven. I would also be the first one awake, but I enjoyed just lying there with my siblings thinking about all that would transpire in the next few hours: the gifts, the oohs and ahhs, the hugs and kisses, the trip to the grandmothers' houses.

The last Christmas eve we all spent together must have been his 18th. He was in the Marine Corps brig at Quantico for his 19th and offshore for his 20th. He didn't make it to his 21st. Sometimes I still dream that he is here - throwing me around on the carpet, asking me to make him chocolate milk or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, watching Dazed and Confused again for the hundredth time. And then I wake up and have to register the fact that he is gone all over.

Sleep doesn't quite hold the respite for me that it once did, but I can still remember those nights when all was right in the world and a girl had her baby brother.

scribble your own on Sundays here

writings

Starting tomorrow, I am going to try some creative writing exercises that I found on the *internets*. We'll see how those go and how long I can keep up with them.

and a happy new year

It's been a while, but we've been busy here on the home front. The holiday season ran roughshod over the best of my intentions and I'm tired. I'm on the good end of another holiday weekend, but there is plenty to be done.

I am going through some philosophical changes right now, so please be prepared.

lazybones

How lazy is too lazy? If I want to sleep all day, but can still effectively accomplish my daily tasks, am I being lazy? Whose idea of productivity must I fulfill?

I wonder what the writers are doing during the strike. Are they merely picketing while the honchos handle negotiations? Are they secretly writing new material? Creativity can't be shut down by bureaucracy.

republocrat

This is my definition of my political leanings. I have trouble with people expecting help (monetarily) when they refuse to help themselves. And I believe in my constitutional right to bear arms. But I also believe in my neighbor having the right to love and have legal support for whomever he/she chooses to love.

I have a big problem when politicians bandy God about and say that one can't love God if he believes this way or that. Who are you to say who God loves to begin with? Last I remember, none of us were around when the world was created or the last time God made the trip down here. I also have big issues with some theocratic dogma, but I can always save that for another post.

intro

charlie foxtrot has a specific meaning to me. I found it when I was in college the first time around and in ROTC. It symbolizes a big mess that other people have made and want someone else to deal with. By using military alphabet to represent the first letters of different words, I recognize this to mean clusterf**k.

My life could quickly turn into a charlie foxtrot. This will be my outlet to vent.