Skip to main content

The Duck of Comfort

I took a long one today, in between working on some Spanish curriculum stuff and working in appointments for interpreting jobs that I got phone calls for....

I think I just needed to sleep today. It felt good. I've been running running running for so long now and I'm tired. Physically and to be certain, emotionally.

A lot of my students are signing up for a second round of Spanish classes with me and so I'm looking forward to creating that curriculum. They're a great group of kids and a bright spot in my mornings.

Last night Ally had a thing with the young women's group at church. She's been working on a project about how to make people feel better about themselves and her display there was beautiful. When we drove home later, she was chatting and chatting and chatting. She is an amazing young lady---at twelve she has a poise and a serenity that I love. She has always been a loving and caring and peaceful soul in our lives.

Ash has seen I've been sad lately--though we've done our best to shield them from problems, it's hard not to notice when mommy's eyes are red a lot. She solemnly handed me her precious Ducky last night. To make me feel better and to cheer me up. Now Ducky watches over me as I type this and comforts me.


I love my girls so much.


  1. Duckies rock! My cousins girls just made their family throw a birthday party for their duckie, just like this one. It was rather cute. You and your entire family are great examples to us all!!!

  2. What a sweet girl to share her duckie. That is precious. I'm sure Allison did a wonderful job. I hope this coming week is more peaceful for you.


Post a Comment

Go ahead....tell me the truth :)

Popular posts from this blog

A Poem to an Abusive Man

I've been doing a bit of research on abuse, domestic violence and how it usually ends. It's not pretty and it's painful and I hurt every time I read another woman's tale of horror.

Did you know that emotional abuse is as detrimental as physical abuse? And that most emotional abusers continue on to become physical abusers? I didn't. I do now. I found a site where formerly abused women, on the path to recovery from their abusers, have written poems. This one below is one that haunted me.

Thank You

You wooed me with poetry
I bit on the hook
Had I only first read
The name of the book

I would have avoided
The very first page
For pages kept turning
Revealing the rage

The ups were a great high
The ride was a bash
But I rode with my eyes closed
To avoid seeing the crash
I knew it would come soon
But I never knew when
The rage and the leaving
And the path to the end

You had to control things
Determined you would
Emotionally destroying me
Every way that you could

Elderly Abuse

I heard a loud thud the other morning around 3:30 a.m. I checked my monitor but he'd once again turned it to the wall so I was unable to see if he was still in bed. I went downstairs right behind my sweet husband and dad was on the living room floor moaning and holding his head. He'd fallen. Hard.

The first picture is the day of the fall. The second is the day after. The black eye keeps blossoming. He has a gash on his head, hidden by his silver hair and he skinned his shoulder/arm. He's a mess.

Was he using his walker? Nope. 85 year old toddlers cannot be told what to do. Or rather, they can be told what to do, they simply won't comply. Ever. In fact they get down right angry and throw fits. It's not pretty.

His physical therapist came to the house the next day and strongly told him to use his walker EACH TIME HE STOOD UP. Has he? Nope. Nyet. He was very angry with me yesterday because I kept asking him to use his walker. Also, I asked him i…



Back on the horse
Monkey on his back
I see no light
Not even a crack
Back to delusions
Back to the lies
I see through his words
He can't hear my cries

Back into his soul
Back into his veins
The poison he pours
Dark liquid his chains

Backed into a corner
Heartbroken and torn
Back into the needle
The eye of the storm

Back to the wall
Soul bruised torn and broken
Back to my pain
His eyes half open

Back into the horror
Will he ever come back
Back into the nightmare
A needle in a sack

Back into his childhood
I loved him with fury
Looking back on his life
His choices my jury

How did this happen
Back to evil and sin
How can he do this
Lines on his skin

Back to my weeping
Back to my sorrow
My son, my love,
Has no more tomorrows
(all rights reserved)