Daddy’s Girl…

was born at this moment...10:36 pm…34 years ago today.

Coming from a family of brothers only, he was besotted from the instant she rolled her eyes around to catch his face in her baby vision. Theirs was a precious love affair from day one to day last.

5 birthdays have passed without him to tell how much he loved and was proud of his girl.

Today…I cried like I have not cried in a long time for all that he has missed and all that his girl continues to miss without him here to love and guide her even as a young adult raising Papa’s girl on her own…but…that’s another story.

Happy Birthday, baby girl…I love you and I wish I could give you your old world back again.

The Fire Within

Truth be told, I thought of Bob Seger's "Fire Down Below", but this piece is about the synchronicity of the fire within a piece of jewlery called Dichroic Glass purchased at a street fair and the fire within a person's soul.
This piece spoke to me and captured what I believe is the fire that lives within me...or at least that I hope to nurture within.



Fire… we’re all born with it. The unbridled curiosity to see, taste, touch, hear smell…explore…everything in the universe.

"There are seven lost secret fascinations and abilities:
~ animals can talk;
~ your favorite blanket is woven from a fabric so mighty, that once pulled over your head, it becomes an impenetrable force field;
~ nothing is too heavy to lift with the aid of a cape;
~ your hand, held forefinger out and thumb up, actually fires bullets;
~ jumping from any height with an umbrella is completely safe;
~ monsters exist and can be both seen an done battle with;
and the greatest, most special and regrettable loss of all…
~ the ability to fly."
(Older Mike in 1992 movie Radio Flyer)

Born in 1950 and living in a time before television became entertainment…I believed those things.

Somewhere in the time of aging…I lost them. Or, perhaps more correctly, evolved them into a different set of fascinations and abilities. Mother says I’ve always marched to the beat of a different drummer….pa rum pa pa pum.

Even through the dark grey days of early mourning the fire smoldered within waiting for that first Phoenix Moment to let me know it was still there. Little clues and nudges snuck in here and there in form of little people dragging me into their world of magic and unbounded energy. Or the gift of a crystal rainbow painting my room with the literal multi-faceted play of light and color as the sun moved across the sky.

Until, finally, I stand at a point where a piece of fused glass can speak to me on a level that reflects the fire that still lives within this aging carapace.

And, just because it's now stuck in my head:

The Fire Down Below

Here comes old rosie shes looking mighty fine Here comes hot nancy shes steppin right on time There go the street lights bringin on the night Here come the men faces hidden from the light All through the shadows they come and they go With only one thing in common They got the fire down below (Words and Music by Bob Seger)

(All pictures taken by and property of Outlaw Photography)

The Other Side of Midnight

Between the moon and sun lie the hours before the first glimmerings of dawn as the full moon sweeps across the sky bathing it with the waning glow of her light in the dying night. She wraps it tenderly and gently, as a mother, enfolding all of creation in her loving embrace.
Slowly, her light releases it’s hold on the dark revealing gold, and rose, and violet against the steely blue tones of first light. She is the Mistress of Re-birth…the other side of midnight.

The Other Side of Midnight

Nothing here, I'll look again
Another place, in darker light
Take a walk to journey's end
The other side of midnight.

Keep the watch, to count the hours
And hold the hands before they move,
Forever stare, from the dark black Tower
The other side of midnight.

Something sad, beyond my mind
I cannot hear, as silence roars
The madmen scream, "Who cannot find
The other side of midnight?"

Crossing o'er, the madness comes
The chaos loud, in frantic fear;
Forever means no time at all . . . .
The other side of midnight.

—Robert William McCallum (c) 1986, Dunipace, Stirlingshire, Scotland

Though I’m sure he shared it with me, I don’t recall now what my friend had in mind when he wrote this song. I know when I first laid eyes on it I was in one of those long dark nights of the soul after my husband’s death. He knew the depth of my sorrow and shared the words with me in silent understanding of my overwhelming pain. A kindred spirit. One lost soul touching another.

In the moving years since, I have come from that infernal place to one where the cycle of the night more accurately reflects where I am…a rebirth of each day and another chance to begin again this awkward path from dark to light. Once it seemed only the path to more darkness and the achingly lonely anguish that tore at my bones. The other side of midnight now leads to light, color and whimsy.
Yes, I still fall…landing on bruised and scarred knees. Yet, not as hard nor as far. I know now, with the passage of time, that it will hurt like hell…but, it WILL pass. And, I know I have connected fellow travelers still there for me to lean upon when those dark nights come again.

I am grateful for that gift of kindred as I have walked those dimly lit hours between the moon and the sun. Without them to bolster my own stubborn unwillingness to let the demon win I am not sure where my soul would live. It would survive…as it has done other marked events in my life…but would it really live? To my eternal gratitude I do not have to answer that question.

(All photos taken by and property of Outlaw Photography)