Arguments ensue and battles lost and won as I discuss with myself the possibilities of what I believe is right.

How to handle conflict and important decisions in my life. I realize I am not perfect and make mistakes.

I can forgive myself when I make a mistake and hurt someone’s feelings.

I’ve never set out to hurt anyone but in life it is sometimes unavoidable.

My conscience runs deep in my soul and cries for those who cannot cry for themselves.

I try to look out for danger to myself as well as those around me. I take stupid chances just like everyone else.

I love danger, sometimes as long as I am sure I will not get hurt.  At times a best laid plan doesn’t work.

I wish I were an angel but I am so far removed from the angelic status but I try to be good but its just too difficult to combine life, needs, wants

and desires to be that good.

Each one of us are different in more ways than people think. Individualism is a good thing and so is becoming a freak. If freakiness is your

desire in life, beware we are all freaks in one way or another. I know I am a somewhat strange person.

I have been called a hermit and a loaner.  I know who I am and what I’m made of do you?

The soft sweet taste of your kisses, feeling of your arms wrapped around me tight.

Your body pressed against mine, your fingers digging into my skin.

Feeling the touch of your skin, your body in my hands.

The thrust of your intense desire thrills my body.

My wants and desires are yours.

Have your way with me.

My hair in your hand, you pull it tightly, forcing my face upward.

Your mouth on mine.

The smell of sweat on your skin makes my senses rage.

Heavy breath against my neck with each thrust of passion.

As passion flows to the point of no return, energy exploding synapses drains all my strength.

Contented,  I hold you close to my heart as I drift into a foggy peaceful sleep.

Like morning fog as the sunbeams peek through melting away the moisture in the thick wet air.

As if the image; were a single drop of rain that were never meant to last forever.

Images dry up as quickly as the fog on a cool crisp spring morning.

Tears began to fall like rain on the roof above my head.

Ripping and tearing away the precious images like damaging winds uprooting ancient trees.

Leaving answers to questions no one hopes never to ask.

Walking away damaged and aching bruised without care.

Standing tall, remaining strong and determined to protect the heart.

Never to allow its boundaries feel the touch of anther heart.

They are all figments of the absolute image as if they are the mixed colors on an artist canvas.

Unable to develop the perfect shade of red, blending the colors till they are black spoiling the picture in a memory.

Starting over again with a new canvas forgetting to clean the brushes and making the same mistake over and over again.

Finally giving up and washing your hands then the brushes, colors blending into the perfect shade of gray.

You turn and walk away as if you were the fog melting in the sunshine.

As my son Josh explained the situation to me, I was shocked and horrified that such a question would ever be spoken by a peace officer without explanation. With my son and a male friend in tow, I visited the police department. I inquired as to who the officer was and requested to speak to him. The officer behind the glass just looked at me and refused to give me any information. I asked him if that was normal business to question a young man in such a way just because the officer felt like it.

Josh is a massive young man, six foot tall and carries a wide Irish-Indian frame, sometimes he can’t walk thru doors without turning sideways. Being his mother is a challenge when you are almost five feet tall. Sometimes he gets his way but would never hurt my feelings. He and I share a great relationship as mother and son.

My son decided he had heard enough and said, “Come on mom, don’t cause any trouble.” I looked at him and said, “Son the officer started it when he asked you that stupid question!” He looked down at me and said, “We’re leaving and reached down and picked me up like I was a small child and walked right out the door. I saw the look on the officer’s face and he seemed quite amused. As my son carried me out on his shoulder and I am screaming at him to put me down. He just ignored me and kept on going till he got me to the truck. and put me down and said; “Mom get your ass in the truck or I will put you in there myself.” I was never so mad in all my life but I must admit I was not fighting my kid.

However, it is really funny as I look back at the situation. He kept me from saying something I really didn’t need to say. I guess there are no better stories than the true ones.  Did I ever tell you how much I love my children?

By Gayle Butler

Fish hooks are baited in the tide.

Poles are cast to their depths,

Waiting for their catch.

Corks are fighting to stay afloat,

Bait is bobbing to and fro,

Catching the eye of prey below.

As pearly scales swim by,

Taking the bait as he swims by.

The bobber goes under and the pole is jerked,

The fish is caught on the hook.

Fighting the hook buried in his throat,

The fish is pulled up in the boat.

Re-bait the hook and throw it in to start this fishing scenario all over again,

As pearly scales swim by…..

I grew up as a small child on a farm in western Oklahoma. I spent my childhood running free and nobody around to catch me when I fell.

I climbed some of the highest trees on the farm and riding horses with my sisters and pigs with my brothers.

Feeding the chickens and gathering the eggs. Getting chased by the goose and feeling the pinch when she bit me on my butt cheeks.

Learning to milk a cow and shooting my first .22 rifle at 6 with my uncle Elmar by my side.

Planting a garden and watching it grow.

Participating in the harvesting of crops weather it was peanuts or potatoes we had a lot of fun.

Riding 0n the tractor beside my dad or my uncle while they plowed the fields.

Walking in thigh deep mud out in the fields helping move the irrigation pipes.

Driving daddy’s pickup behind him as he drove the tractor down the road to another field with my younger sisters standing in the seat watching as the cars and pickups behind us honked their horns insisting we get that thing off the road.

My first bicycle and my sister and I riding to the preacher’s house so we could go to a small church in the middle of nowhere.

Climbing the cherry trees and getting a tummy ache from eating sour apples.

Watching bumble bees as they buzzed around our head as we picked flowers from grandma’s garden.

Catching fish and learning how to clean them and playing kick-the-can with my brothers and sisters.

Camping with our family was so much fun because there were so many of us.

I have lots of memories I wish I could give my children but life is not that simple anymore.  I have tried to teach them what I have learned but sometimes the opportunity is just not there.  I long for those days again.

My sons would tell me, “Mom, I can’t do it!”

I always replied, “Can’t never did anything” and “I can”  can inspire; and “I’ll try” always gave it his best shot.

Needless to say, I didn’t raise one single quiter.

I have always had to remember to put un my big girl panties (so to speak) and my rubber boots and trudge on thru whatever life hands me. I don’t think any of us have it easy. We just have to be strong enough to deal with the life we’ve been handed. It’s a scary place out there.

You are one of the most resilient people I know. That’s what I love about you. So positive and always seem to have an upper hand even when you are at the bottom of the barrel. You always find the strength to move ahead. You just never know what is around that next bend in the road.

My mother always told me that when I am facing the unknown that I should gather everything in me and press on because there is no right or wrong in this life. It’s our values in our lives that move us to believe there is a right or wrong.

A wise woman told me once that “You are only a victim if you allow yourself to be one!”  I think that is the best advice she ever gave me.

Just remember; life is like Oklahoma weather, give it a few minutes and it may change again.

I feel I’m giving in to something I’ve wanted for a very long time.

It wasn’t so long ago that I was sure this could never happen.

This is not love yet but I am going to have a little faith in him.

I never would have expected this to happen.

Only being friends for several years and never an opportunity to get a little closer.

So I thought. He made his move and I am amazed it ever happened.

It was so unexpected just when I had finally given up.

I believe we have been looking for each other for a very long time.

Funny how we were both within an arm’s reach of each other on many occasions, while in someone else’s arms.

I would have never expected to ever be lying next to this man with his arms holding me so tight.

What an unexpected change of heart.

By Gayle Butler

I wish I was his dream lover but I know in my heart it can never be me.

He has moved on and taken my key, never to return unto me.

My heart is broken as re my dreams as I lay down and once more I cry myself to sleep.

by Gayle Butler (7 Nov 2010)