My Firsts...

This picture was published in the College of Southern Maryland's Connection Magazine in the fall of 2006. That publication marked the very first time I had been published for anything, anywhere...it was a VERY proud time for us.

The very next semester, I had enrolled at the College of Southern Maryland and my Communication's Instructor was one of the editors for the Connections Magazine. He encouraged his class to submit something and this was my submission, which won a spot in the magazine in the Spring 2007 issue.

Am I Too Old For This?

I’ve gone back to college,

After being out nearly a decade.
Am I too old for this?

I’m not going for my bachelor degree,

Or even my masters.
No, I’m back for my associates.
I am too old for this!

I sit in my class,

And I’m surrounded by children –
And not the kind I’m used to.
I am so old for this!

My English Professor asks for an essay,
Done in MLA style.
What!?!
I am so old…but I can Google!

My Communications Professor is awesome.
Thank God he’s older than me!

They say there are no stupid questions,

Believe me – there are.
Maybe being old(er) is good.

I’ve survived almost thirty years of life,

I can survive this.
I am not too old!


And then, third times a charm, I submitted one more. This time a prose with a story line that was so "out of the norm" for me and that made it all the more fun! This was published in the Fall of 2007. Don't overthink it...

Sand Through My Fingers

      

I sit here on my beach alone, thinking.  I bury my feet in the cool sand.  I help myself to fistfuls, and watch as it slips through my fingers.  I feel the warmth of my skin as the mid-afternoon sun rests upon me.  I beckon the rays to take away the chill inside me, but it’s to no avail – I am alone here, thinking.

He asked and I ignored him, hoping he would think I didn’t hear.  He asked again, louder, this time taking my hands in his.  I was silent, trying to ignore him, again, but he saw the answer in my eyes.  The sadness in his face echoed in my mind, but I ignored that, too.  The conversation was over, for now, but I knew he’d return again with the same pleading eyes.

He reached out to me and I pushed him away.  All he wanted was to talk, maybe to tell me about his day.  Maybe to enlighten me on the subject of electricity, maybe just to hear me talk.  For whatever reason I pushed him away.  “I’m too busy right now,” I assured him.  “We’ll talk tonight,” I promised, but tonight never came and neither did our talk, because when the sun set I ignored him and pushed him away.

He tried to love me and all I wanted was to be alone.  In my heart I wanted to love him and feel his love in return.  In my soul I needed to be submerged in love – by his love, but I ignored him, pushed him away, and demanded to be alone.

He walked out and I watched in silence as he went.  In my heart I screamed “Stop!  Please don’t leave,” but the words never touched my lips.  “I’ll change,” I should’ve said, but would I?  So many nights I promised myself I would be different in the morning, but when the sun rose there was no change.  “It’ll be different tomorrow,” I told myself.  “Today is a bad day, it’ll be different tomorrow.”  I’m still waiting for tomorrow to come.

So I sit here, on my beach, alone - thinking.  Thinking about all the tomorrow’s that came and went.  All those tomorrow’s that slipped through my fingers.  The people who slipped through my fingers because I chose to ignore and push them away.  I sit here, on my beach, alone.  I pick up the sand and feel it slip through my fingers.  I sit here, cold and alone.