Tag Archives: husband

Silver Fox

The 1st image I ever saw of David on OkCupid.

One of the things I noticed first about my future husband was his unaffected demeanor and his willingness to be openly fascinated by a new thought. There was no pretense, no attempt to impress, and certainly no vanity. I am still pleased by these qualities he embodies. He is who he is and that is that.

The people I want to surround myself with must share these characteristics or at least strive to work toward some semblance of authenticity. A friend of mine is writing a beautiful short story about a fictionalized Nefertiti whose companion silver fox’s tail bristles at the slightest hint of insincerity. When I read her rough draft, I was struck by the realization that something within me resonates with that fox—a bristling, like sand in my shoe, an unfamiliar noise in the dark, a mis-buttoned shirt, or one little dead gnat in my soup. Sure, I can fish the gnat out and consider eating the soup because I love the soup and don’t want to waste the soup, and the dead gnat is not that big of a deal. However, it is a hurdle my brain must get past to push through and move on and act as though nothing of consequence has happened. I know. I can’t unknow.

We are all flawed and have moments that we regret in our interactions with others or our representation of ourselves to the world, but my biggest regrets all stem from times in my life that I was not being authentic with myself. The lowest lows where I had bona fide breakdowns with lifechanging consequences were when I was lying to myself about who I was, what I believed, or what I was willing to tolerate. Living a fractured life, accepting unbearable circumstances for the sake of a belief system or other people’s judgment will result in disaster.

It is scary to say out loud that our personal ideologies no longer line up with our current realities. It is terrifying to admit to people who we love that we must set boundaries with them for our own sanity, but we owe it to ourselves to speak the truth in love and accept that there will be consequences for speaking that truth. And I have come to know in my half a century of living that, though some of the fallout is painful and chaotic, when the dust settles, I am better for it.

When living in authenticity, I can find a gentle, kind, sincere soul to partner with on a dating website full of toads. I can leave my career that I invested over 30 years of education and work into. I can leap into a new, scary field and become the writer I’ve always said I wanted to be. I can develop a spiritual life that nourishes me and others around me. And I can be ok in the midst of the turmoil that is spiraling around us all due to geopolitical craziness that sucks us easily into the madness. I don’t know the right answer to everything, anything sometimes, but I know that when my silver fox tail bristles at the inauthenticity of the moment, I will stop and listen and possibly change course.

Rebekah Marshall @Home Studio

Wedding Day

(Poem 338 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

Ariel & Boaz’s wedding (Paul officiating)

“Going to the chapel
and you’re gonna get married.”
Today’s the day you say your vows,
agree to disagree for many years to come.
Family and friends look on with joy and tears,
so thankful to have gained a daughter or a son.
Our hearts are full as we celebrate your sweet union,
hopeful that this is the beginning of a lifetime of love.

@Home Studio – 338th poem of the year

More Wedding Day photos to accompany my poem:

Julian as ring bearer security. Mackenzie and Charlotte as flower girls.

Lydia, Lonti, and Cassidy as bridesmaids.
Paul, Boaz, Luke, Alex, Cori, backs of Rebekah, David, Cyndee.

Skin Deep Disappointment

(Poem 330 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/gmUzt6

My heart hurt with crushing disappointment
after the news of the election was released.
I felt sadness about the reality of the people
who would be affected by inhumane policies.

I have so much more to learn to be an ally
for those I love because it never occurred to me
to be afraid for my husband or granddaughter
whose skin is more melanated than mine.

Lying in bed, bemoaning the next four years,
my husband admitted to being nervous about
walking the dog the next morning because it
will be dark and racists might feel emboldened.

My breath caught to think a thought so horrible,
and realize those are the thoughts my husband
has grown up with, must live with, is burdened by,
and over half our nation is just fine with that.

@Home Studio on 12/4/24 @ 8:52pm – 330th poem of the year

The Outlaw

(Poem 314 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/8pc7Kj

He’s a quick draw and hard
on cold-blooded cowards
He’s no bushwhacker or hustler
no sidewinder who rattlesnakes
unsuspecting innocents
No, he is simply on the lam
for getting the drop
on a corrupt politician with power
and refusing to back down
Quick to cowboy up and get gaited
Gives any ace-high man a fair shake
Sweet on one lady and made
an honest woman out of her
Admired for telling good yarns
and shooting straight
Never one to raise Cain or drink red eye
to associate with bad eggs
or spend time in brothels or saloons
Salt of the earth and above board
Who cuts a fine figure
as he rides off into the sunset

@Home Studio – 314th poem of the year

In the Air

(Poem 259 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

My husband is in the air
as I write this. His body is
literally catapulting through
the sky at over 500 miles per
hour and we are all supposed
to act like that is a perfectly
normal thing for a human to
do on a random Sunday night.
I guess it is actually a Monday
afternoon in Japan because
he’s going so fast he’s skipping
most of a day into the future.
Is anything real on this strange
sphere we call home that spins
at 1,000 miles per hour while
circling the sun at 67,000 miles
per hour in our solar system
that is zipping 450,000 miles
per hour around the Milky Way?

@Home Studio – 259th poem of the year

COVID’s curse

(Poem 246 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/zxz2Lt

COVID’s curse is that it lingers,
hangs menacingly in the air, and
recapitulates its previous threats
with symptomatic diminishment.
Not as serious, less deadly, return
to work after only five days now,
means everyone shares the virus
and those concerned are viewed
as disproportionately cautious.
Do they remember the terror so
recently fresh to those whose
cats lost their owners and children
lost their grandmothers and we
lamented the death counts daily?
This time when my husband got
sick and I could not touch him
for a week, I still checked to make
sure he was breathing and sheltered
in place and social distanced,
though no one uses that language
these days anymore…so 2020 of me.
Perhaps it is the lack of the sense
of smell that was stolen from me
or the worsened sense of vision
that was purloined or the lessened
oxygenation ability that was pilfered
or possibly the energy I once had
to function all day that was looted
after my fourth run-in with the
offender who is nothing more than
an unwelcome, tiresome loiterer.

@Home Studio – 246th poem of the year

Runner ups for the COVID photos to accompany my poem:

Starbucks Sunday

(Poem 231 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

 AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/wbUNo3

It’s a Starbucks Sunday kind of day
with a Texas August outside and
chilled artificial air cooling us in our
fishbowl drinking iced tea and pink
fluffy milkshakes with fancy names
like Strawberry Cream Frappuccino.
Fellow goldfish scurry from their cars
into the inside where it is safe and
comfortable with the sounds of music
and laughter, frothing and cash
registers, clip clop of flip flops, and
pleasant conversation that dips and
swells and matches the happy serenity.

@Starbucks Studio – 231st poem of the year

Birthday Baby

(Poem 156 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

This sweet baby
wanted the endless
skewer platter
parade of chuleta,
costela, and alcatra,
filet mignon, and
especially the cordeiro
at Estancia Churrascaria
for his birthday.
He has little use for
the polenta, and will not
touch the fried bananas,
but fights me for the
hottest pao de queijo
on the table.
Yesterday, he was everyone’s answer.
Today, he’s back to being only mine.
So, I was pleased to
celebrate the marking
of the occasion with flaming
Crème Brule Cheesecake
in honor of turning 43.

@Home Studio – 156th poem of the year

My Husband Gifted me a Forest

(Poem 136 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

Photograph taken by David Marshall 5/7/24

My husband gifted me a forest
and a clearing of pale blue sky.
I keep it nestled in my cell phone
to comfort me any time I cry.

He knows I love tall evergreens
and can hide there in the woods,
take refuge from the scary world,
forget all the coulds and shoulds.

When the leaves begin to rustle
and whisper their daytime thoughts,
they ease my troublesome worries
and smooth out all my gnarled knots.  

The few seconds of rest I find
in this tranquil space of peace
soothe my soul, calm my nerves,
and help my anxieties cease.  

@Home Studio – 136th poem of the year



You are an Audio Book

(Poem 133 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/4TW5sw

You are not the kind of book with
a slick jacket I can collect on my shelf;
nor can I mark my place with sticky notes,
gum wrappers,
or old receipts.

You are an audio book with raucous
laughter, one-liner quips of witty dialogue,
random philosophical musings about religion,
and societies
latest great failings.

Sometimes I need to slow the playback
speed and crank up the volume to discern
the subtle nuances of your narration and tune
my ear to
your frequency.

Other times I realize you’re on full
blast in the middle of a raunchy scene in
public rather than coming through my headphones
like a
gentleman.

@Home Studio – 133rd poem of the year