Morning arrives.

Yesterday is done and done.

This day that beckons to me,

Never before has it been lived…

Bird song and light footsteps on a woodland path, carry me.

Bejo,

loved flowers, oceans and woodland walks even though she spent much of her life behind office walls that bear the weight of busy concrete cities.

My ever sassy grandmother…

She baked a tender biscuit…brought order to an unruly boardroom full of men where she was the only woman…grew fairy roses like magic…and tended the loving spirit of a sister soon to depart the world…

She laughed brilliantly with her head thrown back in joyful abandon.

She cried the tears of heartbreak that linger in ways that others will never know…because one pushes them aside to keep on….

My brother arrived first in the family so, he bestowed her with her grandmother name. Bejo was one of a kind…

Mike, Suzanne, Bejo

She gave me libraries, woods, old photographs, art and writing….we explored a thousand things when I was a little girl…

Bejo wore a cotton dress with her sensible boots, even in the wilderness. A walking stick accompanied her, just in case. No adventure would dare to escape her!

I can hear her still –

One must tend to oneself no matter where one might be in life.

Sit up straight.

Please and thank you.

Use a soft voice.

There is always time for beauty.

Paint just because you want to.

Write to me…

Thoughts on the circle of time, travel with me wherever I go…

I wander the forest with them…every day.

A Celtic knot returns unto itself.

Just as my walk circles and centers me.

When I return home, then I have completed another circle, albeit an off kilter messy one.

As long as it comes round to its beginning, doesn’t that make it a circle…

A Celtic knot spread is a circle.

A heart pushed in all directions to its outermost is a circle too.

I wonder over why a moment or an image or a thought takes hold of me.

I am helpless to let it go until I move through it mindfully

And make it my own somehow.

I write and write to clear my head and cleanse my heart.

always…there is more.

Bejo and her love

Souls don’t want to be told what to do…not really.

Bejo certainly didn’t!

She was the teller, never the tellee!

I think there is enough of that in the world already. Telling, I mean.

Perhaps, instead a soul wishes for a reminder that life can somehow bear sorrow and that love will always find a way…

At the age of 19 my grandmother married a man from New Orleans

who played minor league baseball by day

and a jazz fiddle by night…

She left him

Never to return

When my father was only three years old

They took a train back to her home in Texas

Hungry in both body and spirit…

I love mornings like this one…

If only I could be still for the whole long short day.

The whir of the fan, curtains drawn, soft light, quietly absorbed in transcribing the stories of my dreams. Breathing them into life.

Someone may read them…perhaps, no one ever will. Either way…it is ok.

Bejo with Dad

How much I take in! Every day…All the time! Even as I sleep I gather notions in the reflection of my nightscape. Gather and tend. Gather and tend. Sometimes it is too much. I cannot hold it all at once.

Some of it falls in the lined pages that hold my thoughts.

Letters slanting to the right, edge to edge becoming words, one beside another until a page is filled and my thought comes round in an ever widening circle.

What then…

Do I feel better…that I have taken time to listen.

For a few moments I have stopped the whole busy world, except for my hand.

I give myself over to a thirsty pen, rich with ink, making every last thing bright with possibility!

Some mornings I have a tight grip that fights its way, leaving me with a worn feeling up and down my arm. Those thoughts come painfully. Soreness follows them. Sometimes those are just the sorts of words that need to be written. Some days are like that.

But, this day is soft,

Sky and heart and words…

I don’t know what it will become.

Joyful or crowded or silly…only time will tell.

for now…

….the edges are blurred in a lovely disarray that leaves me hopeful.

There is the comfort of listening….to music, to my heart, to that which carries me backwards and forwards and everywhere at once…to take out of nothingness and make something worthy of an eager pen.

Bejo as a little girl on the farm in Bryan, Texas

Bejo lived more circles than I have ever tried to count…and loved deeply, often unnoticed.

A woman who changed her name when that wasn’t done.

And worked as many hours as they would let her to provide for an extended family during the Great Depression.

A woman so formidable that she had Two birthdays!

To be honest, Bejo was not overly fond of me when I was a child. That was just her way. We came to know each other when I was well grown. Then, she took me into her heart and showed me the depth of herself that she seldom shared. How grateful I am…

Bejo wrote…

Professionally with precision

Advisingly with a sharp tongue

Personally with a woman’s heart

And she did it All without the benefit of the Internet!

She wrote letters longhand

She taught me to write letters longhand

We lived far away from one another for most of my life

She kept my childhood letters

And I kept hers

I have them all now, tucked safely away.

She loved me I think…as I did her…

I often feel her close in spirit

Reminding me…of many things…

So when I pause

to wander my thoughts

and gather brilliant images

to create a new old story

one that I so long to share…she is with me…

another lovely circle coming round in beauty and grace

Write…she dares me…all that you live and love and dream and are…write to me…

****

ellie894 January 19, 2019

Happy Birthday Bejo, all my love always, suzie ❤️

Bejo 1929

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89 thoughts on “write to me…

    1. Ah! You make me smile Brad! I like that one too. I always giggle a bit when I look at it. It would seem Mike is trying to corral me as I’m attempting to be unruly 🙃, which is funny because I’m not at all unruly. I imagine my dad saying – hold her still Mike! And Mike replying – I’m trying dad, hurry up and take the picture! 😊❤️. Thanks Brad!

      Liked by 2 people

      1. I have always Loved my brother! When I was this age he would put me in the stroller and tell me to hang on. Then he would race me down the sidewalk and loved every bit! One of my early posts “a story” is about an afternoon he and I spent together. I made him lasagna and we talked and talked. He encouraged my writing that day. Thank you! ❤️

        Liked by 2 people

  1. I liked the heart-extended-into-circle observation. I’d never noticed that. And all the stuff about circles and their associations… It’s nice that you remember people so well. I have a good memory, too.

    I visited Darlene today as promised. She got her hair washed, curled, dried, and trimmed. It’d been her birthday very recently. About 60 people showed for the surprise party arranged by her daughter Janet. I didn’t ask how old, thinking that impolite. We chatted and munched cookies till her advocate came in a van and picked her up. Karen, the hair stylist, does a lot of extracurricular work for mature people. Goes the extra mile in helping all people in need… It was good for me, too, taking me out of myself for a half-hour.

    Have a great day 😀

    Liked by 1 person

    1. It’s good of you to note the circle imagery. So much life comes round over and again. Even though it’s a circle we learn something new each time, don’t we?

      I’m glad you saw Darlene today. You had a nice visit together. And cookies make everything grand! Or maybe that’s just me. 🙃 That sounds like quite a surprise party!

      Thank you! Have a wonderful evening 😊

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you Andrew. Your thoughts are so welcome here. Your encouragement means so much to me.

      She and my mother both had January birthdays. I keep fresh flowers nearby in January in remembrance of each of them.

      Thank you, take care 🌷

      Liked by 2 people

  2. Your grandmother was a remarkable woman and an others here have said (much better than I could) your memoriam of her is beautifully done. But why “Bejo”? I looked up the word but found d no translations. How to pronounce – soft “j”? The photos were a delight!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I think her name so much it never occurred to me to share a pronunciation 🙃. Great question! Sounds like Bee-Joe. Her mother meant to name her Mary Carmel. The nurse misunderstood and wrote Myrtle Carmen on her birth certificate. She despised the name and apparently so did her dad. He began to call her Billie. She had a beloved sister named Jo Irene. I think my brother put Billie and Jo together but I’ve never gotten a really good answer to where that came from. And I’ve never heard of another Bejo. Thank you!! 😊

      Liked by 2 people

  3. You have written beautifully, meanderingly, soulfully and from the heart. Your photos and words paint a picture of a strong and creative woman, ahead of her time, and you reveal how much she meant to you and shaped you. Thank you so much for sharing this. It has given me pause for thought, to look back and reflect on people who have had such an affect on me too. My art teacher, my grandmother, the bass repairer down the road who nearly persuaded me to become his apprentice, my late auntie who introduced me to Led Zeppelin and whose daughter I am now so close to…. I will write these words. So thank you for passing the inspirational baton xxx (bejas)

    Liked by 2 people

    1. She was ahead of her time! I always felt that too. I’m glad it came through here. You’ve shared such a very thoughtful comment. I’m touched and humbled that you would inspiration in my meandering and in her life. I look forward to reading your own reflections. This was a long write but I could have written so much more even. Isn’t it amazing to pause and consider how certain people have touched your life so strongly. It’s beautiful the way a piece of them can settle in your core so that you carry them with you. And you wonder, why this one in this moment! Bejo had no formal education past the 8th grade but she was by far the most intelligent and searching woman I’ve ever known. A deep thinker who never stopped living or learning. Thank you so very much for sharing your thoughts xx

      Liked by 2 people

  4. I had another thought… the meandering nature of your words here make me think of looking through an attic or top drawer full of trinkets, photos, clothes and other artefacts and memories… picking things out at will and randomly.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh, I like that! I do love to wander through artefacts and trinkets in just that way. One loses track of time. In fact I had to pull out her special box of photos to look for the ones I used. I got rather lost in the search. 🙃 I may write a whole post one day just on her box of photos. Thank you! Also, I looked up “bejas” but I’m not sure that I understand the reference.

      Liked by 2 people

      1. If you had more you wanted to say about Bejo, maybe you could write about her from different perspectives in other forms or genres. Sometimes one piece isn’t enough. I’ve written poems, short stories, creative nonfiction, a biography for our family, and a novel about my dad–and I’m halfway through a new short story about him. One piece was definitely not enough! Maybe it’s the same for you?

        Liked by 1 person

      2. You’re so right! Thank you for the wonderful encouragement! I have hinted at my grandmother before but never devoted a piece to her. It’s amazing how the act of writing sparks your memory and more details come to light. The more you write, the more you have to write! Thank you 😊

        Liked by 1 person

  5. Your beautiful words moved me to tears, it’s as if you tore a page from my own life…we scattered my father’s ashes yesterday afternoon in delicious silence on a dry day with some gentle filtered sunlight in the forest that I can see outside my apartment windows…how lucky for Bejo to have such a lovely tribute…we are left wishing that we could have met someone so real, glad that we were able to get a glimpse through your words.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. What a lovely way to honor your father and how beautiful to be able to see such a special place from home. Your thoughts touch my heart deeply. I admit that I had tears in the editing. I still recall the day we scattered her ashes some 20 years ago…in a wooded place where we had walked together. With warm thanks, suzanne ❤️

      Liked by 3 people

      1. This warms my heart…after reading your words, there are no regrets in scattering his ashes amid such beauty…forests and woods have always sheltered me from many of life’s storms…now his spirit will, too.

        Liked by 1 person

    1. So happy you enjoyed it Faheem! Grandparents are a treasure, aren’t they? We learn differently from them than from our parents. Thank you for taking the time with it! 😊🌷

      Like

    1. Strong is just the right word for her! She was an adult friend more than a childhood grandmother. Yes! She was always looking forward, never one to pine for “the good old days”. I do believe you’re right, she’s always with me. 🙂

      Thank you kindly Mike. Please know how much I appreciate your thoughts. Take care and have a wonderful week 🌷

      Liked by 1 person

  6. Beautifully penned Suzanne, and an excellent read, l love to see family shots in posts, it brings the reality into perspective – l also simply adored this line …”I give myself over to a thirsty pen, rich with ink, making every last thing bright with possibility!”

    What a glorious line 🙂

    Nayer a truer artistry line than that ever spake 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you Rory, so very much. 😊 You realize how many stories you have as you begin to try to write just one.

      Thank you for the grand compliment on the line! I love it when it’s just that way. You know! The thoughts are strong and the words show up and you can’t write them down fast enough! A simple joy! 😊🌷

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Hey Suzanne, oh yes very much so, with regards the stories, you start one and then a flash memory occurs and then it just keeps on going.

        It’s a really lovely line, occasionally when l am writing l think to myself whilst the poem overall is good, this line is awesome 🙂

        it’s great when you get an almost perfcet line appear 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

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