Tag Archives: marriage

The Gulf of Mexico

AI Generated images prompted on Gencraft.com by Rebekah Marshall.

My first time in the ocean today, I got knocked down. I was trying to get to waist deep but did not have the strength to stand against her playful nudges. She seemed surprised and almost irritated that her friendly gesture toppled me and sent several really hard slaps to push me further toward shore.

Maybe she was trying to help, trying to get me back to safety, saying, “This one’s too delicate to be out here. She won’t last a minute.”

What she didn’t know is that I’m too weak to stand up once knocked down in her waves. I must get deeper to be more buoyant to be able to stand, especially with no balance and ever-increasing frequency of waves. Trying to crawl further out to sea became impossible. She made it impossible.

“You don’t understand, tiny human. I am dangerous. Go back to your dry land!”

We were not communicating in the same languages. Mine became unstoppable laughter, hers, ever-strengthening waves bent on pushing me to shore.

Somewhere about here my husband grew concerned. He wasn’t sure if I was communing with nature or in trouble and came closer from his comfortable beach chair to see.

“Thumbs up?” he questioned.

I shook my head no and waved for him to come rescue me. I couldn’t stop laughing as he began the slow trek my way, the gulf all the more insistent I exit the way I came.

I could stand or steady myself. I could not do both. So, with his presence, I stood, then grabbed his hand to help with balance, his stable strength what I needed to walk back to shore.

It was lovely. Not scary. Not painful, beyond the usual discomfort of being upright with joint pain. I went back to watching and listening from my shaded chair, exactly where I belong. This is how the ocean and I commune best. We sing to one another and just enjoy each other’s presence. Everyone is happier with that arrangement, especially my husband.

Addendum: I went back in twice more. He had to rescue me the 2nd time, as well. But the 3rd time, I made it to waist deep and back on my own two feet and felt so very, very pleased with myself.

poor your soul (A Book Review)

To be raw and real in the retelling of your own most vulnerable moments creates a profound intimacy in memoir. I don’t know if I’m brave enough to write one. Mira Ptacin explores her own fears and feelings of shame and grief around the death of her brother as a teenager and the loss of her baby in her 20s. She weaves a beautiful tribute to her mother who emigrated from Poland and built a life with perseverance and grit here in America. Americans did not make it easy on her.

The subtle twists and turns of growing up, beginning to relate to your parents as fellow adults, discovering that your childhood perceptions of them may have been misconstrued, and finding internal peace in the process are themes that resonate with me, as I have experienced this with my own parents, and now have adult children going through this phase of life with me. Though I have never had to experience the same kinds of grief as Mira, her example of leaning on her loved ones, finding her own path forward, and being gentle with the healing process (however long it takes), makes me hope I can do so with the same indomitable spirt as her, if I am ever tasked with such a burden.

I probably would never have chosen this book, had I known how much of the story centered around the awful experience of having to make decisions related to ending a pregnancy, so I am glad I was unaware because I would have missed out on so many threads of beauty and love. And every scene that includes her husband is superb. He tends to steal the scene, as he is depicted as sincere, silly, and supportive in all the right ways.

Rebekah Marshall @Home Studio

Ptacin, Mira, poor your soul, SOHO Press, Inc., 2016.

Married at First Sight

(Poem 353 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

What kind of courage must it take
to agree to marry a complete stranger?
To put your fate in the hands of professional
matchmakers who will find you a mate?

What kind of failures in relationships
and heartbreak must you have experienced
to decide your picker is irrevocably broken,
so you’re better off letting someone else decide?

What kind of hope must bubble up
as you dress for your wedding day,
eager to meet the man or woman
you might spend all your days with?

What kind of crash course in communication
could possibly prepare two people
who’ve only just met to dive into
a honeymoon and sleep in the same bed?

What kind of crazy, wild optimism
drives two people to move in together,
combine households, be vulnerable,
and believe in falling in love with a stranger?

@Home Studio – 353rd poem of the year (Based on the show Married at Frist Sight, Nashville, Season 16.)

Married at First Sight, Nashville, Season 16, Chris Coelen, Eric Detwiler, Montre Burton, Kinetic Content, FYI, Lifetime, 2023.

Runner ups for the Married at First Sight photos to accompany my poem:

Jardín Corona

(Poem 340 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

https://images.app.goo.gl/BA4nMzC4RVPPvq8M7 https://images.app.goo.gl/8hjt24a2SLX8EcVs5

Texans and Canadians
joined
for one last meal
at Jardín Corona
finding a common bond
over Mexican food,
a bit ironic
that the Canadians present
are the only of us
who have ever lived
in Mexico
and spoken
Spanish
as a way of life before,
but we tried our best
to order authentically—
shared chips and salsa,
chile con queso, guacamole,
then our favorites—
carne asada, flautas,
mole poblano, enchiladas
with verde sauce, quesadillas,
beef tacos, pollo tequila
pechuga encebollada
pollo endiablado,
steak, carne guisada,
with sides of rice,
charro beans,
and of course,
tortillas.
Our families are now
tied together
by marriage,
so it’s a good thing we
can at least all agree
on good food.

@Home Studio – 340th poem of the year

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.

Groomzilla

(Poem 337 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

Boaz creating beautiful chandeliers out of hula-hoops and Christmas lights.

No one else will do it right.

Without the blueprints,
plans or mental designs
needed to create the vision,
there is no way well-meaning
helpers can really do much.

But once the framework’s
been built and the key
elements are in place,
then others can step up
to add decorative touches.

Of course, their work
will need to be double-
checked because everything
needs to be beautiful
and perfect for the reception.

No one else will do it right.

@Home Studio – 337th poem of the year

The end result:

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

Toto

(Poem 329 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

Like father like son

This little boy is a man now,
marrying a really lovely girl.
His dad’s a crier at weddings,
so I can only imagine the scene.

Dad’s Toto to his grandchildren,
spends time with each of them,
loves to play and be a kid
to the point that reality’s a blur.

I’m trying to meditate away
my anxiety about how he’ll
handle himself at the ceremony,
and then later when he gives a toast.

For his oldest baby’s sake,
I hope he can hold it together
and let the spotlight be on the bride
and groom, rather than his tears.

@Home Studio on 12/4/24 @ 8:19pm – 329th 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