Where did the fireflys go?

Summer is almost over and it seems as if we had no nights to gather under porch lamps and watch the fireflys make their way through the stand of trees before the lake. I miss my childhood. I miss playing outside until dark and hearing my Mother's voice strain against the rise and fall of traffic and compete with the other Mother's own calls for bedtime.

I loved hiding out, and pretending I was in Africa or a jungle. I loved watching the fireflys and wanted to understand their magic. We would catch them and somehow press them into our skin on our 'ring' finger and pretend we had a diamond ring, for a second if we were lucky. I can not believe I ever killed a firefly. Now I watch for them and it seems as in all good things they are becoming harder and harder to see. I would collect them for my children and put them into Bell Jars and light up the porch on summer nights and then before bed we would release them into the heavens for a second night.

Let us all remember something magical tonight. Let us all remember good things. Put our troubles behind us and bravely march into tomorrow with hope of things to come. Maybe fireflys will light the way tonight as we sleep. Maybe.

I am sad Dominick Donne has died and Teddy Kennedy all in one day like Farrah and Michael. We are all getting there sooner than later.
God Bless their souls.

Life and beyond on a Wednesday

I have depression and anxiety and melancholic tendencies that are with me always. I do not know my brain. I wish it were a map nailed to a wall inside my house so I could study it and look at it daily and figure out ways to get there from here to back again to happiness. I know happiness is there, like a small beautiful village with window boxes spilling out with geraniums in some perfect red with a tint of pink and violet. I have been to that place inside my brain on different days and I can still smell it and know it exists, however, the sadness and depression of being in this moment always seems to push that place farther and farther away from me until I fear one day I won't be able to go there at all.

My daughter's "husband" left her this week alone with three small children, they are door steps, 6.4.2, angels the three of them. I want to rescue her and the children and make a perfect village of hope for her, but somehow I know she must pass through this time and this challenge to grow and learn lessons life throws at us. Life is like that.

I have dreamt of walking on the backs of sea turtles among turquoise water holding the hands of my children, walking farther and farther into the blue, clear water of hope. I pray we will reach the other side and be happy again.

Be safe.
Love the ones you are blessed to have.
Peace.

New House

Well, I have moved yet again.

Let me count now.
Red House, new country house, College (do different dorms and dorm room moves count? There were 6), Apartment with Gale, Back to country house, Nashville apartment, Franklin farmhouse, Barn, Yorktown house, Birnam Wood Farm, Log house, Big White house in Northport, Shirley Place, Condo in Reston Place, Our new house, Marriage House, Tuscaloosa, Atlanta house, Back to Franklin! Wren Circle, House on Peytonsville Road, Jenkins Spider Farmhouse-Sweet Springs, Condo on Boxwood, Dreamhouse on hill--Harpeth Ridge Road, Fernvale house, Apartment (1 month) , House on Hill-Crazy woman's house (2 months) , Michele's Farmhouse in Leiper's Fork, MOVE TO GERMANY--2003 Altensteig hotel Sonnebuhl, apartment in Herrenberg, Come home to house on Pine Circle, House on Postwood, Move back to Tuscaloosa, Reston Place (nightmare), Northwood Lake house, Move to Birmingham Old Looney Mill End-The Garden House, Move back to Tuscaloosa-The Brown Byrd House, Take an apt in Birmingham as experiment to get out of depression from isolation didn't work because of dogs needing more space than we had, move out, go home to Brown Byrd House, deep dark depression sets in for a long time, another experiment, move to house in Mt. Laurel in Birmingham to see if it will help with depression and get me in a routine and away from sadness of Tuscaloosa and all it represents to me. i.e. Sadness, loss of being, sadness, Mother, Daddy is gone forever to me.

I like the New house, it isn't home.
Home has been two places, the Red House on Mitt Lary and Birnam Wood Farm. Home is a place of safety and becoming familiar with nature, children (childhood) and hope. The Red house is still standing but they painted it beige (I hate beige), Birnam Wood was moved because of interstate 840 going right through the middle of it. It is now in Leiper's Fork. I went there one day to see if I could conjure up the ghost of Miss Marie Falls Molay and I couldn't although apparently all the families who have lived there have moved because of the ghost. She liked us. She left us alone, or perhaps that is why I miss that house so much, I was never lonely or alone there, and I had a purpose, my children, the cows, chickens, a garden, even swimming laps in the pool.

I hope to be finished editing my novel, The Ave Maria Diaries soon.
The Ghost Dancer's Shirt is going well.

It is Spring in Birmingham, but very cold outside, at least the heat works in this new house. We are the first to live in it. What stories will we leave engrained in the beams, the walls, the floors? I hope I will be happy here. If not, we will move, again, but keep the Brown Byrd House to ground me so I don't ever get too lost.

My father died on January 12, 2009, a few days shy of my 55th birthday. I wish I could say how I felt about his passing. I don't have any feelings left. I know there is a God who watches over me and Jesus and I know the Holy Spirit is around me, I simply feel like the Holy Spirit has deserted me now. Now when I need the comfort. I think it has to do with control and asking God for things and making promises to Him. Like, "If you do this, then I will do that..." Comes from my Baptist upbringing.

I am still at work on my novel, THE AVE MARIA DIARIES, watch for it soon for I know it will help change the world in a positive way.

The rain is endless.

Oh, My name is Alabama Brown

My name is Alabama Brown, I forgot to say that. I got my name from William Faulkner's first child, Alabama who was either born or died on my birthday, I forget which one. Also, there is Zekda's Alabama in Save Me The Waltz. So I am Alabama Brown and I hope to publish a book this year, I am looking for an agent now and a publisher. Thanks.

Oh, My name is Alabama Brown

My name is Alabama Brown, I forgot to say that. I got my name from William Faulkner's first child, Alabama who was either born or died on my birthday, I forget which one. Also, there is Zekda's Alabama in Save Me The Waltz. So I am Alabama Brown and I hope to publish a book this year, I am looking for an agent now and a publisher. Thanks.

My writing

Thanks for checking out what is happening in Alabama's world.
I am finishing my novella's, under the title of "Tales From A Nightingale", the novellas are:
The Ave Maria Diaries and The Southern Cross--they are both stories of social injustice and redemption. How appropriate for this time in our world. We need a revolution, but we need a leader first to make it happen. Who will anwer the call?

My other novel is tentatively called, "Check Smith's Private Oz and The Ghost Whisper's Shirt", it too is based on actual facts of social and political injustice, but with a different voice. I am really having fun writing this one. Michael Neff with webdelsol was kind enough to publish the first chapter on his wonderful site, delsolreview.

Poem for the day:

Today there is no sun. The amber leaves reach for nothing.
Tipped with gold on their own, they must rely on nature's way
To acheive what color they hold.
I want to run naked to the lake and jump in. I want the chocolate water
To bathe away these October blues I have inside my head.
I want it to snow, rain or bleed turtles from the sky.
I want a revolution. I want justice. I want a lover who will understand
My colors and paint me red tonight.
Tomorrow I want the same.

Peace.