blog · butterfly · Grief · Love · Monarch butterfly · Nature · Nature photography · poetry · prose · Writing

Regina I

Butterflies don’t have norireceptors

They can’t feel pain

At least that’s what they say

They also don’t recognize human voices

Well, that’s what they say

I’ve only seen three this year

The most royal of all of the butterflies

I’m a finder of lost things and valuables that belong to others

And animals that are lost or hurt

I found her struggling on the sidewalk

I halted my walk in more ways than one

Scooped her up in my hands, and she desperately tried to fly

She had no visible injuries

Not to my eyes

I took her to my neighbor’s where I thought she might find some blooms

I offered her water from my tiny bottle cap

She did lap it up and for a moment, and I thought that was that

But she still could not fly

Even though she desperately tried

So I brought her home in a shoebox with some flowers

But that’s not the part I really want to talk about

I want to tell you how she recognized my voice and how her antennae responded when I talked to her kindly

I want to tell you she was perfect with not a spot on her to explain why she was dying

I pet her little body and talked to her sweetly

I told her she was beautiful, and although she couldn’t get to her destination

She would stay here with me

I hoped for a miracle overnight, but I knew better

At first light, I checked her shoe box and she was nearly dead, so weak she was, ants were crawling on her

I brought her in the house and showed her all the plants

I told her I loved her and would take care of her

I put her in a plastic bag and placed it in the freezer

(This is how to humanely euthanize butterflies when they are already dying)

I took her out twenty four hours later and laid her on the table. She looked the same, but her body wasn’t contorted anymore. Her antenna relaxed to a normal position rather than contracted in a sort of grimace

They say butterflies don’t feel pain. I don’t believe them.

I want to know why a beautiful, gentle creature meant to migrate thousands of miles only flew a few feet before starting to die

And other malevolent beings are granted the gift of a lengthy, destructive life

I want to know why

Regina trying to fly
Her shoebox full of blooms
Regina I,
 Danaus plexippus
Advice · animals · birthday gift · blogging · cats · daily prompt · Grief · Love · Writing

Discernment

What do you think gets better with age?

The ability to judge what is worth pondering or taking on. The insight and intuition to decide that something isn’t for you. The capability to decide that if something isn’t for you, you can leave it and go on about your day.

The wisdom to own your own shit and know that other peoples’ shit is not yours to own. To not give a fuck if people don’t like that you curse.

To determine it’s perfectly acceptable to water your plants wearing your bathrobe and your slippers. To go out in a very nice outfit, but not wear a stitch of makeup on your face. (This is closely related to wearing a bathrobe to water your plants.) Also, with age comes the knowledge and the understanding that what people see on the outside is not who you are on the inside. And who you are on the inside is much more important than what you look like.

My birthday is tomorrow. One more trip around the sun. Susie passed away in my lap this past Monday, and my best friend’s mother died about five hours later. It has been a difficult week, and I have scaled it alone, save for several good souls. And I have made it through. With age comes inner strength you didn’t know you had.

With age comes discernment. With age comes the knowledge that grief is love. You learn people can only ever treat you the way they feel about themselves. Sometimes you can do everything possible, but if you are misunderstood by others, it won’t make a difference. And you have to just let that shit go.

I have learned pets are a gift from above. Animals do not offer conditional love, theirs is only unconditional. They love simply because that’s what they do. For people who don’t know the love of a pet, or specifically a cat, I’m sorry. Your life has not been enriched in the way that mine has. Tiny humans grow up and they begin to place conditions on their love. It’s what the world does to us. But a pet never does. A 17-year-old cat still loves unconditionally, the same as when they were a tiny baby. My birthday wish is that humans may strive to be less conditional with their love, and be more like “animals.”

In honor of Susie, Happy Caturday, friends. 

Girl Power Selfie
art · art history · blogging · daily prompt · Grief · history · Love · non-fiction · poetry · Writing

The Pictures

What brings a tear to your eye?

“Would you like to have these pictures?

I’d like to give them to you.”

Pause and reflection

“Yes, I would like to have the pictures.“

You would bring them to me

Before you went to Italy

I saw you and did not cry

“Thank you for the pictures.”

They are very beautiful

I like to look at them

And

I hate to look at them

They make me cry.

©️2024, itsamyisaid.com, all rights reserved

(“of joy” has been removed from the title of this prompt)

birthday gift · Cancer season zodiac · Short story · thank you · Writing

The Gift

Are you seeking security or adventure?

I sought security. I’ve sought it since March when I learned my whole department was terminated to save the company money. I was shipped off to an agency which lasted two weeks. I was not interested in working on the account to serve my former employer, thank you very much.

I exited that job for another agency. The people were kind, and the pay was decent, but the insurance costs were steep. And I hadn’t had enough time to grieve the loss of my job, which I held for 14 years and I was really good at. I exited the second agency after a month. I did well and left on good terms. In fact, my supervisor offered to be a reference for me or to be a resource, if ever I should need it.

I took about a week to regroup. One morning, my eyes popped open, and the thought was put into my head to log onto a job search site and look at the jobs. Much to my surprise, there was a job similar to the one I’d held for 14 years. I applied for the job from my bed. It took less than 30 minutes. Within a few days, the first interview took place. Within the next few days I performed the skills assessment that was timed and observed. It was the most stressful skills assessment I have ever taken in my life, and that includes my first examination to get certified in my field. I wasn’t sure if I would pass, but I did. I found out the next day that the department was sending over my information to HR, and were looking forward to me joining the team. I was thrilled. A permanent home. A job that would feel like home because it was an environment that I had known before. The difference was in the kindness. This new company has been nothing but kind since the beginning. My former employer? The word kindness is not in the vocabulary.

Speaking of kindness, I agreed to start at another agency prior to knowledge of this job opening, and obviously prior to me gaining the position. This past Monday, I joined that agency, and these people are also extremely kind and have been wonderful. I am being compensated well, but the cost of insurance continues to try to financially sink me. To stay there would mean bankruptcy for me. I do not exaggerate.

Thursday afternoon my phone rang while I was staring at it waiting for HR to call me with the official offer. As soon as I answered the call, I heard a woman giggling. There must’ve been a funny joke prior to her calling me. Between her giggles, she asked for me. I told her she had the right person. She apologized for her giggling. I knew it was the HR hiring manager from the new job. Please understand, no one ever needs to apologize for giggling in my presence. I told her as much. She made me an offer and we had a pleasant conversation. The next steps are in motion and I have a tentative start date. I have to say, from start to finish this has taken a very short amount of time and feels like an absolute gift.

You may think I’m crazy, or you may just not believe it, but I am convinced my mother had a hand in this job acquisition. I can’t explain why the thought to go to the job search site was placed into my head when I didn’t put it there. I can’t explain why the first interview invitation went to my spam folder and the Director called me from her personal cell phone to be sure that I was interested. I can’t explain why it took less than a month to gain employment at a prestigious company that holds some of the most kind people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.

I also can’t explain the giggling, but if you knew my mother, you would know she would be capable of something like this.

You see, I got the verbal offer on the birthday of one of my brothers – the 11th. He texted: “Happy My Birthday to you,” after I informed him of the news. Every year, my mom and I would meet him for birthday lunch. Often, it was on 12th of July. That’s the day in between our birthdays.

He was joking when he wished me a happy birthday on his day. The truth is, it’s a birthday present for me, it simply happened two days early.

Thanks, Mom. 💫✨💫💛

animals · birds · conservation · daily prompt · Humor · Love · Nature · Nature photography · Summer

Mourning Dove Love

Are there things you try to practice daily to live a more sustainable lifestyle?

I didn’t want to answer this prompt by saying, “I recycle, reuse and repurpose,” not because I don’t do those things (I do), but because I felt like it would be a common answer. After a bit of deliberation, I found my prompt answer in an unusual spot. It seems the mourning doves felt very comfortable and a bit frisky in the front flower bed this morning.

That got me thinking. I have noticed there are teenaged squirrels in the backyard and teenaged starlings at the birdbath.

Thus, my contribution to sustainability is providing a natural reproductive habitat for birds, rodents, insects, and possibly Toady McToaderson – if he can find his mate one of these nights. Poor Toady.

Mourning Doves feeling the love
poetry · Writing

Red

I picked my red dress to wear today

Not sure why

It felt like a red day

Found that red heart necklace

Clasped it ‘round my neck

Stood back and smiled

Put a red bracelet on my wrist

Might as well complete the style

Thought twice about that poem

About answering that prompt

Because what if even just a little breath

Is enough to cause its death?

The red of the notification

Finally arrived

I wondered what had happened to time

I clicked on the app

Called Snap

Saw a red heart next to your face

Smiled and thought I’ve moved up a place

But the words that I read

After seeing so much red

Were not words I expected

I sent you a chat

I heard nothing back

I realized then

When I breathed it life

This delicate thing

Would not breathe again

It’s not cool that I said all that

It’s not chill that it’s in my head

It’s dead

Isn’t it?

Isn’t it?

💔

Red, Taylor Swift

Loving him is like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street
Faster than the wind, passionate as sin, ending so suddenly
Loving him is like trying to change your mind
Once you’re already flying through the free fall
Like the colors in autumn, so bright, just before they lose it all

Losing him was blue, like I’d never known
Missing him was dark gray, all alone
Forgetting him was like trying to know
Somebody you never met
But loving him was red
Loving him was red

Touching him was like realizing all you ever wanted
Was right there in front of you
Memorizing him was as easy as knowing all the words
To your old favorite song
Fighting with him was like trying to solve a crossword
And realizing there’s no right answer
Regretting him was like wishing you never found out
That love could be that strong

Losing him was blue, like I’d never known
Missing him was dark gray, all alone
Forgetting him was like trying to know
Somebody you never met
But loving him was red
Oh, red
Burning red

Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes
Tell myself it’s time now gotta let go
But moving on from him is impossible
When I still see it all in my head
In burning red
Burning, it was red

Oh, losing him was blue, like I’d never known
Missing him was dark gray, all alone
Forgetting him was like trying to know
Somebody you never met
‘Cause loving him was red
Yeah, yeah, red
Burning red

And that’s why he’s spinning ’round in my head
Comes back to me, burning red
Yeah, yeah
His love was like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street

Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: Taylor Swift

Red lyrics © Sony/atv Tree Publishing, Taylor Swift Music

daily prompt · Love · music

Heartbreak Is Worse

Daily writing prompt
Have you ever broken a bone?

Do I answer this prompt? Are they data mining? Do they want to know if we’re using a certain brand of calcium to prevent bone breakage?

Yes, I’ve broken my tailbone, though I have no idea how. I may have broken a toe, but I never had an x-ray. Other than that, I don’t think so.

Have I broken my own heart? Several times. Will I try again to break it? Statistically, yes.

Let’s segue into my song lyrics for the day:

Don’t Get Me Wrong (2007 Remaster)

The Pretenders

Don’t get me wrong
If I’m looking kind of dazzled
I see neon lights
Whenever you walk by

Don’t get me wrong
If you say, “Hello”, and I take a ride
Upon a sea where the mystic moon
Is playing havoc with the tide
Don’t get me wrong

Don’t get me wrong
If I’m acting so distracted
I’m thinking about the fireworks
That go off when you smile

Don’t get me wrong
If I split like light refracted
I’m only off to wander
Across a moonlit mile

Once in awhile
Two people meet
Seemingly for no reason
They just pass on the street
Suddenly thunder, showers everywhere
Who can explain the thunder and rain
But there’s something in the air

Don’t get me wrong
If I come and go like fashion
I might be great tomorrow
But hopeless yesterday

Don’t get me wrong
If I fall in the mode of passion
It might be unbelievable
But let’s not say, “So long”
It might just be fantastic
Don’t get me wrong

Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: Chrissie Hynde

Don’t Get Me Wrong (2007 Remaster) lyrics © Hipgnosis Songs Fund Limited

Official Video
daily prompt · Love · Short story · Writing

Happy Mother’s Day

Share a story about someone who had a positive impact on your life.

Tiny Baby and Mommy

Once upon a time, in a land about thirty miles away from where your author sits at this very moment, a tiny baby was born. She was born five weeks early because her mother chased around a cat with a baby chicken in its mouth and as a result, broke her waters. The baby’s father was away at sea, working hard as a ship’s captain and unable to return in time for the imminent premature birth of the tiny baby.

The tiny baby’s mother had to go to the hospital because the tiny baby insisted on being born, regardless of where her daddy was. The tiny baby didn’t care about that, she was ready to enter the world of the oxygen breathers. The tiny baby’s big sister took their mother to the hospital and waited in the father’s waiting room with a room full of expectant dads (this is how it was back in the day – dads waited in a room). After some time, the tiny baby was born. The tiny baby’s mother and big sister rejoiced.

The tiny baby grew as babies do, and eventually became a grown-up. Many people helped the tiny baby along the way, but there were only two at the start of the tiny baby’s life as an oxygen breather: her mommy and her big sister.

Happy Mother’s Day, everyone.

Tiny Baby and Big Sister

©️2024, itsamyisaid.com, all rights reserved

animals · cats · Love

Bubba

I found this video of Bubba and his brother Rafa in my phone today. Bubba had the softest belly – his fur was like velvet, but his belly was like a fluffy cloud. Bubba was a laid-back cat and liked his belly rubbed. Rafa was ticklish on his belly and didn’t like it pet. Rafa was sassy and would always backtalk. The sound he makes in this video is his backtalk. Volume up for best purring listening experience. I miss them every day, especially Bubba, my cat soulmate. 🩶🖤

Bubba and Rafa
daily prompt · fate · finding the muse · Love · poetry · Writing

By A Poet

Daily writing prompt
Do you have a quote you live your life by or think of often?

Although I do have many favorite quotes from Zora Neale Hurston, I’m going to try to follow the rules for this prompt. I know, you’re probably thinking, “Why start now?” It’s because I have a favorite quote that I really don’t think of that often but for this prompt, I thought of it.

Years ago, I bought this book:

Filled with requited and unrequited varieties

I don’t recall why I purchased the book, but if I had to venture a guess, it would be because the book is pink, has a heart on it (your girl is obsessed with hearts and collects them – not anatomical hearts, dear reader), and it also has a pink bookmark built right in.

The book contains different chapters, which delve into the many different types of love – requited, unrequited, grief, love for pets, etc. I’m not much of a romantic, but I am sentimental. So I tend towards more eccentric quotes about not just love, but everything.

I nudged this book off my shelf for this prompt and opened it up to the page with the pink bookmark. I never take this bookmark out of this page because this is my favorite quote in the whole book, and that’s not an easy feat to accomplish.

Without further adieu, Let me introduce you to my favorite quote:

When I read this the first time, I wasn’t quite sure how to interpret it. Then I realized there were many ways to interpret it. In fact, I have a new interpretation as I write this.

What is a superstition? (We all know, because we all remember the daily prompt from not that long ago.) Examples of superstitions include walking under a ladder is considered bad luck, opening an umbrella in the house is bad luck, breaking a mirror will give you seven years of bad luck, black cats are bad luck, knocking on wood so whatever you’ve just said comes true or stays safe (depends on the situation), and many more. Superstitions are misunderstood, mysterious, used as protection. In my mind, I always think about superstitions as hovering in the air in a cloud. Superstitions are not part of reality, but they are still given deference and respect. They are very real to the person who believes.

Having said that, I believe Monsieur Baudelaire is speaking here of unrequited love, a love that to him is so precious, he keeps it in the clouds just out of reach. The image of his love stays in his mind, and in his heart is where the cherishing blooms, but his love is so much more than that. He seems to be under a spell. To say you are more than an image I dream about and cherish, you are my superstition, means to me, that you are the very thing that I believe in, the idea of which makes no sense, but I love you more than I could ever love anyone else. And yet, there is a mystery about you. Are you bad for me? If my love were requited, would it be a mistake? Would it ruin everything? Superstition has to stay in the clouds, just out of reach, and so does the love. Dream of it, cherish it, hold it in the highest regard. Be also aware of its mystery and respect the unknowingness of it.

Monsieur Baudelaire was a controversial poet in Paris in the 19th century. He was part of the Decadent era. Knowing a bit about poets myself, I’ve been thinking: is the superstition the muse? Oui.

✨💫✨

©️2024, itsamyisaid.com, all rights reserved