| It Has Been A Rough Year |
I am adding this additional chapter to my introduction, because after I initially wrote the introduction, it was very difficult to come back to it and try to make sense of all that I have experienced through the various stages of my life and the trials that I have endured or overcome. I wish ...
| The Birth of Charles Leonard Wiggins |
The story has already been written for awhile on my blog "From the heart of Praise, Prayer and Perseverance. 0; Here is a link to that posting, Below are the pictures of the blessed event.
http://fromthehea rt-dotwigg.blogsp ot.com/2008/03/an other-2-prayer-re quest-answered.ht ml
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Michelle's Story > Chapters > Grandma Audrey
| Date Range: 01/09/2001 To 01/09/2001 ||
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(Image of Hel, source unknown)
At the edge of a great void,
In a season born still, blue and livid,
I stood upon my grandmother's shoulders
To peer inside my descending maternal womb
As reality contracted around the miscarriage of my dreams.
And as my blood ran red in the thread of a life
That never really got to matter,
She stitched a quilt to cover me
While I grieved...
January 9, 2001
Full Moon in Cancer
It was four o'clock in the morning and twenty degrees below zero and there I was - in my rubber-soled bedroom slippers - shuffling back and forth across the patio outside my grandmother's home and mumbling unintelligibly to myself. It was a vision that I am sure would have raised the specter of insanity again had anyone been awake to see it. But no one was. The streets had been rolled up for hours and the God fearing residents of Kathryn, North Dakota had all retired. Most had habitually drawn their shades right after supper and extinguished their lights immediately following the local evening newscast; the rest had called it a night shortly after David Letterman's monologue. By midnight, every house in town was enveloped in winter slumber.
I leaned back and slid dejectedly down the wall, slumping into a cross-legged seat on the concrete next to the window well. I was disheartened and disillusioned - all alone in the dark with my inherent madness. And, while that was probably a precarious piece of ground for me to be treading on, continued emotional resistance or spiritual suppression seemed equally futile. So I settled comfortably into cynically self-loathing mode, smoked a cigarette and contemplated ending my life.
In the Valley, the air was was numbingly frigid and tinged with the crispy wood-smoked scent of chimney soot, but also stone still. The wind did not blow and the trees did not rustle. Aside from a couple of white tailed deer that had wandered into town to scrape the ground in front of the elevator for feed, nothing stirred. I stopped pacing and found the quiet so resolutely deafening, I could scarcely hear myself think. Or perhaps the constant clatter in my head was simply more tolerable than the deliberating silence the night offered me.
I was all out of fight, so my suicidal ideation was a formidably fleeting one. I surmised that I could simply get up and walk away from this living, breathing personification of Hel that had usurped my life. I would simply point my faux-fur clad feet in any polarizing direction and let them carry me far enough away from myself to disappear forever. Surely it would not take long for me to catch my death out there in the middle of a stubble field. Perhaps Mother Nature would drop a fresh blanket of snow cover and I would not even be discovered - that is, until some unsuspecting farmer rolled over my rotting carcass with his tractor in the Spring.