I watched a
Jehovah
Witness lugging around
200 lbs of literature in a suit and tie on a
103 degree
August day and
I was thinking out loud,
God,
That can't be what you want from us is it??
What
DO you want from us? and
I heard in my soul the words
"Turn on the radio" and
I said nuh-uh!! and the voice said,
"Yes, turn on the radio" and so
I did and right on cue, the
Dj said, we don't normally do this but we've got a request to play this song one more time!
and it was this song.

but in the end even justice,
as in a guilty conviction,
incuding the answers as to what happened
the day he died as well as knowing
the whereabouts of his remains
so that  i may complete my last act of mothering
and bury my son,
doesnt bring a dead 17 yr old back
to the life as we knew it
before he was murdered
so i look at that justice word
and i chop it up real thin
and mix it back up into a ball
and flick in the faces
of all those who harmed him
or was apathetic
towards my advocacy
on his behalf.

look, here it is 3:23 am
and i have been tossing and turning
for several hours with too much on my mind
and i finally relent to the fact
that sleep is not going to come easily for me,
so I can come down stairs
and get on the computer
and look at posts from others to distract me
until that first mighty yawn arrives.
Gawd, i hope it happens before the alarm clock goes off

i wake up some nights
from the same images
of trying to save Colton
but every single time
i am unsuccessful
and he gets murdered
once again
and once again
i was unable to protect him

first musical memory
playing Mary Poppins
over and over on my portable suitcase
phonograph  
not convinced that
a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down

went over to my friends house
to play Barbies
heard B-B-B-Bennie and the Jets
on her record player
began my life long
love of rock music

grew up attending a Southern Baptist church
if my faith continues to evolve in and out of specific creeds and dogmatic beliefs
right arm will never fail to involuntarily rise
towards the Heavens
whenever i hear
How Great Thou Art being sung

parents were in their late 30's
by the time i was born
was exposed to big band music
show tunes
mom's favorite
French operatic singer Edith Piaf

Riverview Elementary
in music class
taught how to do The Hustle and The Bus Stop
to disco records
got to bring in
on Fridays

love of guys with
long hair
blame
on the big hair
bands
the 80's

the 90's
such a kinship to the dark depressing sounds of grunge
believed  Scott Weiland
Kurt Cobain and
Jerry Cantrell
plagiarized my thoughts

mad or need to clean
my house
the 2 often go
hand in hand
heavy/nu metal blaring
at maximum volume

Currently
am at a crossroads
need of direction
helps me to undergo the deep soul searching
inecessary
major life changes are required

give myself vehicular therapy,
driving around Wilson Lake
symphonic classical sounds from the radio
surprisingly
maybe not
blaring

maximum
volume
brainstorming
my options
to the
music

overheard
ppl say  
they wished that
their life
came with
a soundtrack

Mine does.

i have forgotten a time
when i did NOT procrastinate,
it has become infused into every cell of my body

Me: i realized the answers will only give me information,
but not bring colton back
so in the big picture,
it would be helpful
but it wouldn't change anything
but i do believe the scales of justice
must be balanced
not just for society
but for those responsible
in an effort to cleanse their souls

.... i have forgiven,
but i'm only human
and just a mom...


Friend: So do you think he is gone?
Or could he still be out there somewhere?
Either way
I hope we find Colton
bring him home to you
so you can feel complete
with knowing
he is with you

You're very strong.


Me: i am 99.999% sure that he no longer walks the earth in physical form...
for many years i was in denial holding on to even the tiniest crumb of hope,
which may have kept me from losing my mind
or taking my life perhaps...


some days strong is just getting out of bed
and making your other child dinner
because you made yourself a vow
that you would allow yourself to grieve
in what ever form it took
for as long as it took
as long as you
at the very least
made colton's lil brother dinner ea day....

she always sent me butterfly stuff
when i was feeling down
and now
whenever i see one
i feel like it is her
telling me that she loves me
...so when i see a butterfly
i whisper to it, "I love you too, Mom"

i feel sometimes that i should get a "get out of jail free card",
like....ive been through the worst day of my life...
when police told me he was dead,
murdered
and now i should get immunity from any and all other crap that this life has to offer,

but it doesnt work that way.

I catch myself getting progressively more angry.
I safely yell at things that don't give 1 iota of emotion in response.
I watch myself getting mad at TV's, cars, computers, even light bulbs!
Most days I am able to 'hang tough' primarily through my own strength,
but partly because it is expected of me.
I've never asked to be anyone's hero
and I certainly know first hand
what a fraud I would be
to ever claim such status when so how many times,
far more than I will ever let on,
I have found myself curled up in the fetal position SCREAMING guttural SCREAMS primal.
I no longer ask the glib question of "Why me?",
when I know the true question is
why not me??
Once I had led a life of figuratively being spoon fed from utensils made of silver,
thriving on that bliss that does indeed come from an existence of ignorance.
Maybe why not me
balances the scales.
Sept. 26 2013 will be the 5 year anniversary that my sweet little boy seemingly fell off the face of the planet.
It hurts so bad I could just scream. SCREAM!

And I do.
At technology.
I scream at my TV with it's crackly surround sound speakers that are going out,
I scream at my car when strange warning icons flash on the dashboard,
I scream when the florescent light bulbs through out my house flicker
and burn out
and S C R E A M E D !!!!! at my computer when in the middle of typing this diatribe
the browser crashes

It got dark early that evening,
as it always does when winter is in full swing
and
the day's sun never quite
manages to ease the chill.  
Moods were equally brisk inside and stung about as sharply as the winds shrieking through the windows.  
My boyfriend
and
I
had been cooped up inside for the last few days.  
The walls
were
closing in,
suffocating us.
Tempers were flaring often that winter,
and
our nerves were especially raw that day.  
He had been in my face
barking orders from the moment he woke up.  
I tried to bite my tongue but my tongue would often betray me.

     "Hey, you gonna go get me some cigarettes?"  
I knew by the tone of his voice, it wasn't really a question.
     "No, I don't have time yet,"
I replied.
     He'd spent the whole day in the recliner wearing the same ***** t-shirt, boxer underwear
and
smelly socks as
he had on when it had started snowing days ago.  
He hadn't gone out job hunter for the last couple of weeks.
My      life      had      become      relegated      to      cleaning      up      after      him.  
It wouldn't have been so bad
if I hadn't moved so far out
into the country,

relying on a drunk

for my sole source of companionship.


He sat in his chair chain smoking cigarettes,
watching me as I folded the laundry,
gulping down one beer after
another,
loudly crushing each can that he emptied.  
     Bite my tongue, bite my tongue, I reminded myself.  
I continued folding jeans.  
It kept me from glaring at him,
seething with gritted teeth.  
I dont think I could have hated anyone more at that moment.
     "Come on, ******!"  
Go get me some cigarettes,
he bellowed.

     Something snapped.  
I threw the basket of jeans at him.  
They scattered across the room.  
I came toward
him.  
I balled up my hands.
     "What the hell is wrong with you?  Don't start with me!  I don't want to hear it,
he yelled.
     His words had no effect on me.
He cowered his head with his arms,
lowering them towards his lap.  
My fists
were clinched,
aiming anywhere on his body.  
Faster and faster.  
He made the mistake of looking up.  
I felt the
punch hit his right cheekbone.  
His backhanded slap landed on my right ear.  
After that, all sound was gone,
replaced with a ringing silence.  
I couldn't hear what was coming out of his moving lips,
nor out of my own.
     "I am sick of this!  I am sick of this!"
I roared.  
     "I can't live like this anymore.  
     I am sick of you mooching off of
     me!"
     In one swift motion,
he had managed to pull himself up
and
knock me down off of my feet.
     I don't know why I scrambled on hands
and
knees over to the car keys on the coffee table,
but instantly,
they
became priceless treasure.  

The all day beer binge caused him to swagger,
and he landed on top of me.  
He tried to pry the keys out of my grip,
knocking the coffee table over,     spilling cigarette butts
     and
     the pile of folded
             whites.

conceived to the rhythms of Woodstock
          weaned on Watergate
                    raised on Trickle-Down Reaganomics
                              our adolescence taught us contempt for a government
          but our education kept us too ignorant to reach past the disillusionment
                   aging under a system of
                               corruption and greed
                    dying penniless
unto our birthright
as the
empty generation

if I am not me, who have I become
why did I leave and where did I run

if I try to explain the **** of my pain
will I merely forget all the lessons engrained

if I cry me a river or get carried away
is false nirvana just another debt left unpaid

if there's no trust to remain yet lack ***** to go
will phoniness reign misty fog of retreat looming low

if this life isn't mine and I'm only acting a role
who belongs to this body and who owns my true soul

if I keep longing for answers until they surface just near
will it empty the well that stings my face with the tears

if I go back and re do the steps I've been through
will it give me back confidence I believed I once knew

if this life isn't mine and I've misplaced tracks of time
just who sits in my thoughts desperately composing this rhyme?

The sun must rise
as the ones deep
in sleep
Slowly feel their hearts
rising in its beats
a new day
another dawn
slowly I rise
coffee greeting
cig in hand
head foggy
of half fading dreams
and automatic
morning routines
Primitive are we
as primitive
as the ball we stand
Circling around
the great fire

I spend my time scribbling lines
trying to set my soul free
the only prison
I've ever known
is the one in my mind
which I've overblown
my life isn't so bad
that I can't tolerate
but the dissatisfaction
is what I truly hate

some times
**** isnt supposed to happen,
no one should **** a 17 yr old boy
who never got the chance to live his life.
i used to tell my kids that they were like jello and
werent fully set until they turned 18 and
that the child and i both had joint title to themselves and
once they turned 18
i took my name off and
they were fully responsible for themselves.
Colton would have turned 18,
3 weeks before his life was STOLEN from him and
from me and
from every one who loved him
AND THERE WAS NO REASON FOR THAT.

BUT BUT BUT!!!!!
The absolute best find of all was a collection of short stories about my sweet lil bumms,
detailing my 3 young sons and
their adventures as they began a new life adapting to living on a farm.
(pre-JoshiePooperz,
the family's household story goes like this: that he was up in Heaven,
bouncing on a cloud,
waiting for a good time to be born... lol)
This almost feels like winning the lottery!


Once upon a time I did have 3 boys,
ages 2, 6 and 8 and
when reading those stories,
time stops and
i am a young girl with children who think i'm omniscient and
still refer to me as Mommy

i found a bunch of extemporaneous prose,
screenplays and
other assignments that i had turned in for various writing classes that i had taken when i was going to WSU and
KS Newman (then College, now University)  and
i am happy to report that my pieces all got A's,
save for the one B-,
but after reading the teacher's comments at the end of the page about my refusal to get with the times by my continuing to turn in hand written homework rather than submit typed papers using the library's word processor,
i feel speaks volumes about the teacher's prejudices and
nothing about the quality of my sentence

an old trapper keeper filled with some of my writings,
including 6 chapters of my very first attempt at writing a novel and
i remember the urgency i felt at the time to complete it
- ASAP!
because one of the subplots
involved the protagonist working toward marijuana legalization and
back in '93 with all the wisdom of my 27 years,
i just knew
- JUST KNEW!
that at the very least,
marijuana would certainly be decriminalized nationally  
in a matter of just a few short yrs
making that storyline
completely
obsolete

i find myself agonizing about how my son
or rather his physical blood skin organs and bones
have decayed
into apparent nothingness

to fall in love and
to have ***** ***
to have fun picking out produce together at the grocery store

1 day i was laying in bed
or at least sitting on the bed
cuz i lived in my bedroom
not even leaving  to use the bathroom
pickle jars work in a pinch and
watching the walls breathe
was a bigger priority
than having to speak and
look at my children
who might be able to
produce a feeling of shame
from within me
should they had made
eye contact with me and
***** too expensive
to risk letting  them ruin
a good thick 50 cc rush of dopamines gone wild
so i yelled out through the door
" have a good day at school,  love you"  
but my words held as much sincerity
as a nun on her 30th set of Hail Mary's
dutifully reciting rosary
to get out of bed
to give him a hug goodbye
was an absolutely preposterous idea and
after hearing the door shut
he walked out that door Sept. 26, 2008 and
he was never seen again.

Bury me with a pen in my hand and a spiral notebook if you can
So I can continue to scribble my words of kibble
Of a lifetime in line tasting all of life's nibbles
You can't cut in line when it's not your time to go
But the best desserts are served last, this much I know
Until that time when I say my final goodbye
I write in awe of a life that makes me laugh as I cry
So special this life it must be immortalized
Or risk memories fading as dreams never realized
But after I die with a pen in tight rigor mortis grip
Throw in some paper for my next upcoming trip
Boldly or timidly, I'll ask my God to decide
Whether I enjoyed this gourmet banquet that He did provide
(and did I get my fill before I died?!)
Because I'm the one that writes my own menu
With every bite of life that I do chew
The price I pay for all of these nibbles
Are purchased by all of my handwritten scribbles

im not in any hurry to remarry and
i didnt mind being his wife
but i bet if she's half as insecure
possessive and
jealous as i have heard
it has got to burn her up inside.
in the beginning i was so hurt and
i would tell how my husband left me
for his step sister and
everyone would say eeew sick
but i know its not like they were raised together.  
he left me on mar 19 2012 and
i will never forget it
i got on my knees and
losing any pride and
dignity i had
i  BEGGED him to stay
but he brought his mommy with him
so i wouldnt make a scene
i asked him to at least smoke a cig with me and
he did and
i offered to give him a break
i told him the house would be spotless and
i would be whatever kind of wife he needed
but when he looked at me with sad eyes and
said please Lynda let me go,
i knew he had done enough time locked up and
i couldnt be another person to take away his freedom.  
then for 18 1/2 days i went to bed and
cried and
did not get out of bed to eat or *** or anything.
my world was turned upside down by him
FOR THE SECOND TIME
fool me once shame on you, fool me twice....lol
but the one thing i have known after the hurt left is that i truly want him to be happy.  
He gave me some of my all time best memories
but also gave me the worst times i had ever experienced.  
my whole family disowned me for taking him back
for almost 3 yrs,
they just now have taken me back into the family and
will speak to me.  
i will always love him,
he was the soulmate i literally spent my whole life looking for,
but it cost me a lot of heartache to be with him.  
i am not the same person as that girl he met in the bar
wearing daisy duke short shorts
pain changes people...and
i guess life is too short,
mom's die,
children go missing and
vanish with out a trace and
husbands come home in the middle of the day and
move out and
with out tell ya why and
you never see them again

but i think we all get 12 really awesome-kick-*** days to remember.....
and marriage does not equal happy anyways
you prolly should be happy before you walk down the aisle
and if i went full out lesbian, i'd ***** that up too
i was broken when i got into this relationship, due to very extreme life events, so just like the song  there ain't no good guy, there ain't no bad guy.... lol
BUT--- i got 12 really awesome-kick-*** days to remember.....

one thing
i know for sure
drugs do what they promise
and i know
a lot of people
who aren't even
that dependable
until they quit working
like a lot of guys ive lived with
but drugs are thieves
and what they steal
can't be measured
in highs
or even in cash
when compared with
snatching pieces of security
and i'm left with a box
of empty stash
an agreement
my drugs and and i
design, resign
into a 2-party contact
lets me enter, sign
leaves me trashed,
one consuming the other and
on the dotted line
we traded control
the boundaries faded
disintegrated
****** and junk
become assimilated

heres what i ended the night with; an IM to my 1st born son and his 1st born son:

2 hours ago
Egad, Parker finally realized that
he doesn't remember Uncle Colton
so he asks about him.
He asked me if he is in heaven and
if he ever met him since he got to meet Great Grandma Hook and
she's in heaven now.
It isn't the first time we've talked about him by any means,
but nothing as grownup as that.
Wowza.

about an hour ago
i have come to believe that the 5 day duration
in which Colton's soul/essence/love
left his body and
Parker's soul/essence/love
was getting ready to join his body
inside Christina's big belly
(reinforcing the belief that you pick your parents lol)  
that the two of them met in the middle,
had some transendental smile, fist bump and
wink to each other
in acknowledgement of ea other.  
I think time is a human Earthy construct
so it makes sense for me to say that
in that period of time,
they did indeed have a celestial party getting jiggy with it
as only an entire Heaven filled group of soul/essence/love's are want to do...

my proof of such theory will only become more evident through the years as you will notice that Parker does indeed shake his groove thang
in the same style
as your brother Colton....

In the middle of folding laundry one afternoon
thinking this might not be a big deal
but then again it's not such a bad way to spend the day and
the back door opened and
my neighbor showed up in full paintball gun attire and
pointed his paintball gun at me and
yelled at me to get on the ground!
i smiled and
put down my child's underwear and
grabbed his Buzz Lightyear sound and
light activated laser gun that he had recently gotten for Christmas and
aimed it at him and
yelled NO! You get on the ground and
then 40 men rushed into my house and
at least 10 of them had rifles and
i was thrown down on the floor,
wood floor,
right cheek made direct impact and
**** that hurt and
i heard a shout of a voice ordering the 10 men with the 10  rifles pointed at my head
not to shoot and
that the shoot to **** order was off,
that it was a toy plastic gun,
he repeated,
it was a plastic children's toy and
in one fell swoop of motion my right shoulder was taken out of its socket and
**** that hurt and
twisted around behind my back  in order to handcuff that hand to my other hand and
stand me up and
walk me out as I watched dozens and
dozens of what i could only presume to be storm troopers from the Star Wars movies wearing white protective gear covering their shoes bodies and
faces entirely
spilling into my house with the great invasion of an ant colony and
several groupings of men in black pants and
black shirts with white letters on the back spelling out different acronyms such as S. W. A.T., and
K.B.I,  KDH&E;  
The storm troopers were actually Bio HAZ MAT men
testing to see if  the air quality in the house was higher than their acceptable limits of
risk of having a chemical explosion occur
while in the house on that afternoon of January
when officers of the  Sheriff’s Office Special Operations Group
executed a search warrant at my house on Main St.in my small town in Kansas and
made entry at the location and
took me into custody while
Certified **** Lab Techs from the Sheriff’s Office
collected 2 Mountain Dew bottles and
some rubber tubing and
rendered the items safe and
Agents of HazMat Inc. were contacted and
responded to collect the hazardous materials for disposal
I sat in the back seat of the cop car and
thought this might be a big deal
this could be a bad way to spend the day

...reminds me of the days of hurry up and wait and
tis not always a good thing either
oh i am perfectly aware that i think too much
i spend 27 minutes in the shower pondering the meaning of life and
3 minutes wash rinse and
repeating...
the next right thing would be FLUSH
I walked into my 1st mtg, looked around and
said " Oh f%#k! I'm home."
the fact that you think that there is nothing special about you is what makes you extremely special which is rather refreshing in a world full of braggarts!
ok to the point---
this was a week after I had turned 43 and
at that time I did not know that jail wardens could lie and
I was told "you are going to end up with 43 years in prison by the time you get convicted of all the charges" and
I'm not too whoopy at math but it didn't take long for me to add 43 + 43 and
I knew "ain't no way that I'm going to want to be in prison until I'm 86 years old!" so it made perfect sense at the time...
no, this has a happy ending, I'm here to post on the internet!
my mom had passed a yr and
a half before and
now I was in jail with a plastic trash bag over my head and
was seconds away from death when I heard a voice as audible said "Knock it off, Lainder-Belle!" and
it scared me so bad I untied the jail pants that were over the bag and
gasped for air and
cried cuz I knew I was going to have to live...

oh my son colton i have the memory of christmas morning
when i asked you to get me something out of the deep freezer
and you found the 50 big macs i had bought you
because you were always wanting me to drive you
45 minutes away after bed time on a school night
to McDonald's
and after that you could have a big mac whenever you wanted
and even if you were mad at me 23 hours a day
there was that magical hour when i would wake up at 4 in the morning
as you were just getting ready to go to bed
where i would sit on that deep freezer
and have the bestest conversations
and for 1 hour we understood each other

a two year old
runs me ragged
stubborn
persistent
and bright
total mass of energy
whizzing by
i can barely perceive
his speed of light
he keeps me busy
fatigued
but well entertained
whiny demanding
frustrating
straining my brain
my baby's growing up
and getting cuter
every day
but since he's only on loan
i'll keep watching him play
------------------------------------------------------------­-
He dunks his corn dog in his milk
watches the drips trail his plate.
Innocence not realizing the improperness
delight obsessed
and couldn't be bothered with no's from Momma.
She stops rebuke to question why
can't one dip corn dog in milk
and watch the drips trail the plate?
Is it too radical
anarchical
does it harm another
or must be governmentally sanctioned?
The child knows none of this.  
He takes a soggy bite and licks his plate.
Tomorrow he can learn etiquette.

i keep Colton's senior year HS photo
on side of the fridge,
cuz when i used to cook dinner
he would get right in my ear
and sing in falsetto soprano voice
to such songs like
Leona Lewis's Bleeding Love
and bother me as i stirred the meat
singing to me getting me all flustered
until i would shoo him out of the kitchen,
so now when im at the stove
i look over and wink
wishing he could bug me one more time...

I have a candle lit for him;
don't want to make a big "to-do" about today,
just a simple remembrance,
a simple prayer,
and hope that despite
or maybe because of this loss,
I can be a better person
and be a blessing
with a random act of kindness
for some one today
in his memory.

I had to let go of my last crumb of denial that he was still alive
and although the pieces fit the puzzle as to what really happened to him
becoming a picture more horrible than i could have ever imagined,
the insanity of year after year of looking for a son
who seemingly vanished off the face of the Earth
was relieved of me.  
He didn't leave because he hated me
for being a failure as a mother to him
and I began,
from the moment I learned the truth of what happened on that day,
Fri. Sept. 26, 2008
forgiving myself a little bit at a time
right up this day,
6 years later in order to live with myself
and to be able to forgive those
that contributed to the taking of his life
and taking him from us.

in the last 6 years
I have learned the hardest part of all this
has been forgiving myself
and desperately hoping that
in the big picture,
some how all of this will make sense
or at the least,
through the passing of time,
the pain will have lessened
and acceptance
and healing will occur
making the idea that maybe,
just maybe,
all that talk i'd been taught,  
considered,
relied on,
believed in,
questioned,
doubted
but eventually rejected,  
about life after death
and of souls that go to Heaven
might actually,
possibly be true
and  that he is ok.  
Probably more okay than the ones he left behind.  
God,
and I pray there is One,
I hope Colton is ok.  
If there is no hope of ever seeing him again,
his death will never make sense to me
and life here on Earth
is simply pointless
and insignificantly meaningless.
However,  
I've chosen to believe otherwise,
and If I am to gain some lessons
and use my life for a greater purpose
rather than to continue living
as that all too comfortably familiar self centered,
ungrateful,
entitled person that I was
before that Friday morning,
6 years ago today,  
and am still but hopefully not as much,
his life
and his death
weren't in vain.

i am just a mom deeply missing my son,
the real boy,
not the story i've repeated about him too many times
and definitely not the face of a teenage boy
who will never age on those **** missing child fliers,
but my son whose voice i can no longer remember the sound of
or whose hair i can no longer remember the smell of
when i would slyly sniff his head
I also miss his lost opportunities
of graduating high school,
getting to grow up,
move out,
date all the girls he could ever want,
falling head over heels in love
and marrying one that would steal his heart,
finding his dream job
or even working at hundreds of hated ones
until he found his calling,
and his babies,  
i miss the babies that he never got the chance to have,
but mostly,
i just miss that chicken **** of mine,
Colton.

it comes with some difficulty being the mother of a ghost
but being your mom didn't end at your death
and perhaps it continues even after mine
for many years i thought you were out there, a missing runaway
i'd send you a simple msg
via text msgs, email notes, fb posts
and even though i now know the truth
you never received them
the words still ring true
"I love you and I miss you, Colton, and I will never give up hope of seeing you again"

everybody
leaves me
&
i
am left smelling their
clothes

Chautauqua I
lying in a field of tan the sun hits my back
I see a shadow of me or am I merely the shadow in this scene
The wind inhales and exhales
breathing at its own pace I can feel its calmness
Nature's unorderliness does have its own sense of pattern
the blades of straw yield to the wind without any hint of defiance
I am the only one that stands apart
out of defiance I decide not to bend
under all the straw hides the mud
makes me aware of
how wet the ground is under my boney ****
Chautauqua II
stopping to smoke a cigarette
I notice the vast difference in landscape
from the northern and southern views
the heat of the sun requires i take off my coat
and I allow
the wind to control the change in temperature
nature constantly surprises different beats various patterns
tiny minds
always try to find
sense in randomness
Chautauqua III
I, too, am on a chautauqua of some sort
this journey a quest for fulfillment
many seek it few obtain it
the given clues are false society's road markers
get me lost in wrong directions
the drummer
who marches out of step
not following the same beat
is blamed
no one ever thinks
to find fault with the beat itself
lying in a field of tan I begin to find my way

I like Stephen King
Not for his plot twists of horror
But for how he notices the very real
Human tics
And ideosyncrasies that every posess
Making us unique
Just like everyone else
He would notice
Let's say, something like;
The bored housewife
Sitting at her kitchen table
Drinking coffee with one hand
And hitting on a joint with the other
Like she's reciting rosary
To E.L.O.'s  "Bruce, don't bring me down, Bruce, don't bring me down,Bruce, don't bring me down, Bruce, don't bring me down, Bruce, Don't bring me down, , no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no.
Nooo-oooooh-oh
(I tell you once more before I get off the floor don't bring me down)
Bruce...

His next sentence jolts us
The bored housewife's ceiling
Would then fall down
Crashing down
On top of her
Smashing her skull
Buried under drywall and brick
Gotta love the details

But afterwards
Will the once bored housewife
(As well as you and I and Stephen King?)
Be given a test?

What Did You See?
What Did You Learn?
What Did You Do?

Did You Get It??

Will we need to sharpen number two pencils?
A mortalist?

We live here but once
Stephen King
Bored housewives
You and me

My son Colton Ross Barrera
has been missing since Sept. 26, 2008.
I bet you can imagine how many times
I have typed that sentence...
I am finally reaching out to another mom,
perhaps for my own sanity...
I have had so many ppl say to me,
"oh Lynda, I am so sorry, I just can't imagine what you are going through"
as I would never have been able to imagine all this myself.
I had a slight interest in missing person cases in the past
but it was just another news story in my mind
and the ppl weren't real,
not until it hit home
and it was MY son that went missing...
I have been angry at God
and I have gone through all the stages of grief
and still go back and forth on those steps.
I remember when he 1st went missing
I made 50-75 phone calls a day.
now the phone is quiet
and there is no one left to call.
The police have put his file in a folder
and have labeled him,
not as handsome,
or quirky
or intelligent,
but he is stamped
with the label of COLD CASE.
I quit going to church
because I felt that if anyone knew where my son was,
they would tell me
and how could God be so cruel
and withhold such vital information from me?
I almost envy people that know
when where and how their child passed away
because they have a tiny piece of real estate to go to
and leave flowers
and have closure,
but I am also relieved
that not having a gravestone
at a cemetery plot to visit
still gives me hope that he is still alive.
In this modern day of internet,
I have his facebook account page
to look at
pictures of him
in which he never ages
and words written by him
which I wish I would have read
long before he went missing.
Time on a calendar
is marked
according to B.C. and A.D.
due to the life and death of Jesus.
I mark occasions
by how old Colton was at any given time--
"That re-run of Catdog came out in 2001? Colton was 11"
It is so bitter sweet
to watch Colton's younger brother grow up
and do some of the same mannerisms
as he did at that age.
My older son's have placed blame
and anger on me
and in some ways,
rightly so,
at my lack pf parenting
and causing their brother to go missing
and that has put a big chasm
in our relationship.
I suppose unless publishers
ever come out with a
"How to handle it when your child disappears and just seems to fall off the face of the planet, for dummies" book,
I will rely on the support
and guidance of other's who are traveling down this path with me.

when Colton was a wee one
and his brothers got 4 more french fries on their plate than he did
or a really cool toy for their birthday that he wanted
or some other perceived injustice
he would yell at the top of his lungs, "Mom! That's TOO fair! That is just TOOOOO fair!!!!"

sitting in heavy traffic one day, 4-way stop
radio on, listening to the DJ describe
the excitement of broadcasting live
from a south side *******
between songs
giggly ****** screech in high pitched
dog whistle voices
trying to entice me
into meeting wild red heads
georgous brunettes, ***** blondes
yellow, then red, then slowly traffic
moves on
continuing the maze
blockades block, jackhammers
tear up half the street, change lanes
the heat of asphalt, a constant barrage
of noise
straining, amplifying
I turn a ***** off in mid-squeal
looking around I realize
I had arrived
this was the world of grown-ups
I so desperately longed for in my youth?
no bat mizvah, no tribal rite of passage
but if I'm lucky
I'll make that green light

Mom was my go to girl
who always
had a plan
a list
and a mop
and picked me back up
every time
but this last time
i was really ******* at her
for not being there
to help me
get through the whole ordeal
of her funeral
and making me face it alone.

i was so freaked out when i took couple of hits off that joint this morning cuz my first thought that there was no way that i was gonna be able to drink enough water to pass my **** test in a couple of days
and then i was so mortified that i would have to go back to day 1 of my recovery losing over 15 months of clean time-
THEN I ROLLED OVER
and in my half consciousness i realized to my relief that it was ONLY A DREAM
and i was fully awake by then
and i got out of bed mad at my brain tricking me,
glad that I hadn't relapsed
and in tears I got out of bed
and on my knees and thanked my Higher Power for this blessed gift of recovery!!!
I don't know if it was being on the nicoderm patch, PAWS (post acute withdrawal syndrome), or what, but I kinda think i will blame it it being 4/20