Just Because I'm Older ... Doesn't Mean I've Forgotten How To Dance!

Photos of a younger Granny Gee who could really dance; and an older Granny Gee who hasn't forgotten ... and still do a few of the moves :)  Artwork by me in bottom photo ... all owned by Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee ...

Mm-mmmm, I can still do that! I used to be a 'good' dancer! Just because I'm older ... doesn't mean my body forgot how to dance! It doesn't mean that ... I can't dance, anymore.

Okay, okay ... so, it hurts more, since this body has become older. I know sometimes, if I try to dance ... my body gets stuck in a strange position. It hurts like ... heck. Really.

I've had so much surgery ... that things 'feel' much different. I watch little videos on the computer ... of senior citizens doing 'remarkable' things. I think ... 'why, I can do that'!

You hear of senior citizens defending themselves ... shocking the heck out of their attackers! We all love that. Just because someone is 'old' ... doesn't necessarily mean they are weak, senile ... helpless.

Sure, they need help doing something, at times. Think about it ... if you were thrust into a life-threatening situation ... you would become stronger, quicker ... fight to the death, if needed. I know I would. No matter how old, weak I had become ... I would do something 'remarkable', if possible.  Older people don't ... forget.

I'm a little older, little fatter ... have some gray in my hair (I have it covered up ... so, nobody can 'see that I got older :). Having saying this ... doesn't mean I've forgotten how to dance!

I might look like a little, fat butterball with legs ... but, I promise you ... I haven't forgotten how to dance. :)

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Marching To The Beat Of A Different Drum ... Dancing To Many Songs

Marching To The Beat Of A Different Drum ... Dancing To Many Songs
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Artwork by me, Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee.  I have many drums I march to ... I love to draw, write, decorate, create ... the list goes on.  I dance ... to many songs.





I've been having the same thought go through my mind a lot lately.  Each time I catch up my Facebook page, Precious Camie's Facebook page ... then, do my stories for my different sites ... I read along the way.  I read what others are writing about on Facebook, and on the writing sites I go to.

The thought comes to my mind ... social media is about everyone 'marching to the beat of a different drum'.  Hundreds of thousands of different drums ... wow!

Have you ever thought about it?  Isn't it amazing that so many people who are different from each other ... can be together in the same place ... get along?  I know there are places online where people are always bickering, finding reason to get angry.  I'm not talking about their kind of 'drums'.

Thankfully, I'm not on sites like that ... and when I encounter such, I get as far away as possible. Like people who are natural-born troublemakers ... hell-raisers ... I don't want them in my life.  The first part of my life was filled with such ... I didn't have a choice ... I was a child.

Imagine ... different bands playing different songs ... passing, repassing each other ... they all smile at each other ... go their own ways ... marching to the beat of a different drum.  Everyone gets along. Everyone ... respects the other, and the fact ... that they are all different.

People open themselves up, trusting that others will be good to them, not hurt them. Our social media reflects who we are by our interests ... we put photos, posts on it ... to show what drum ... we are marching to.

I march to not one drum, but ... many.  I am interested in so many things ... so, I not only march to the beat of a different drum ... I dance to many songs.  :)

Have you ever thought about this ... in this way?  That everyone marches to the beat of a different drum?  Dances to many songs?


Photos/article owned by me, Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

It's A Winter Wonderland ... Out There

It's A Winter Wonderland ... Out There
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

I took photos of the snow, and Pups ... our snowstorm 2-25 & 26, 2015.  Photos taken by me, Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee




I can't believe it ... it snowed again!  Not only snowed again ... but, really snowed a ... for-real, thick, beautiful blanket of white!

Our Pups, Camie and Kissy love it, but ... they want to hurry back inside to be dried off.  Camie runs circles in the snow ... Kissy tried to, but ... his right leg is injured.  It slows him down.

I really didn't want anymore snow.  Last week, it was very messy, and a not so pretty snow, at all.  Well, this snow is a very beautiful snow ... one that invites you to come outside to play in it.

My mind is on making a bowl of snow cream later, today.  Not only that ... putting snow in a sparkling, clean glass ... pour Pepsi on it!  That's 'my special something' ... to do when there's a 'worthy' snow such as this!  What is your 'special something' to do?

I will get the snow off the picnic table, or Skip's pickup.  It looks to be about six inches of snow.  I can get clean snow ... it's thick enough.

Skip said he wanted me to make him a 'snow angel'.  Now, can you see me doing that ... making a Granny Gee angel?  :)  I just can't bring myself to lay down in the snow ... but, then again ... I have been known to do the ... unexpected.  :)  Who knows?  He may have to help me get up, ha!

There are over 212,000 people without electric power in North Carolina, right this minute (7:58 am on 2-26-2015).  I am so sorry ... I know how it feels.  We are fortunate.  I am grateful.  It's cold outside!

I'm going to sit here, enjoy the view outside our door!  The wind is blowing the snow, making it look like a blizzard ... reminding me of the real blizzards we have been in ... out west!  I am going to let the snow put me in a trance ... daydream!

It's a winter wonderland ... out there.

Diamond Tears and Colorful Rainbows ...

BY GLORIA FAYE BROWN BATES/ aka GRANNY GEE

My Son, Tommy ... holding his son, Taban.  I miss you, Son.  Each day, I cry for my Son ... no one ever knows that I do ... I never tell anyone.  It's one of those things a grieving mother does ... that can't be shared.

I was looking at photos, reading yesterday when... I stopped and just sat looking... wondering 'why' one photo had my attention.

It came to me... I was looking at a rainbow and it looked like the one I saw through my tears... at the funeral home.  I remember walking outside and I heard someone say 'look!  there's a rainbow'! 

I remember looking at the sky and seeing through my numbness, shock ...a beautiful rainbow that shimmered through the tears in my eyes.  I blinked my eyes and my tears sparkled like diamonds, making that rainbow forever a part of 'me'... in my memory.

It was the second rainbow I saw through my tears... when my mom died... and this one... when Tommy died.  I was like in another world... seeing both.  It was so ... strange... so beautiful.

Today I was in my art room, organizing things when I became aware that ... I was crying.  I had moved Tommy's chest and the photo I have of him smiling that precious 'Tommy' smile ... I always keep that photo sitting on top of his chest.

I was crying softly and didn't even know it.. it's strange to 'find yourself crying'.  It hurts so much ... I'm doing it now.  I never knew I would cry so much in my life.

I was thinking just for a moment when I moved his chest to dust it... I wonder if I can open it.  I opened it just a tiny crack to slip a photo of Taban (his little son) in it... I couldn't open it any farther.  I wonder 'why I'm not strong enough'?  It's just a simple action... you just lift the lid up... simple as that.  All I have left of you is the upholstered chest, and the contents in it.

I have to say truthfully, even though I know... yes, I really know it isn't possible ... I wish so much my son was living.  I wish so much to hear his familiar voice, his laugh... to see the twinkle in his eyes... to hear his 'cowardly lion' laugh that used to put me in hysterics... I would laugh so much.

I loved hearing him do impression of Billy Bob Thornton.  Do you know it still seems like it was 'just yesterday' I was talking to him?  'Just yesterday'... I hugged him goodbye...I watched him drive down the driveway, grinning... waving to me.  I didn't know we were waving... for the last time.  I just didn't know that....

I can never look at a rainbow without thinking of him... I see it through my tears because I feel pain when I do.  I think of my mom, too. 

Seeing rainbows through my tears... happy colors with a shimmery, clear veil of my tears.  I remember when I used to look at them without tears... those days are gone.

Diamond tears and colorful rainbows... how sad and beautiful the two are... how so sad and beautiful they are.

Photo/story are owned by me... Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee    I wrote this some time, ago.  

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Sign On Pet Door ... Slow Down!

Sign On Pet Door ... Slow Down!
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Our Rottie ... Kissy Fairchild, loves to run, play ... with Precious Camie, our Australian Blue Heeler/mixed.  Sometimes, they can get quite rowdy.

Kissy has hurt his hip, running through the pet door.  At least, we feel like that is what has happened.  He is limping ... and it's his right leg.  We are all the time, massaging it for him.

They love to play, run ... out the pet door, to go out into their fenced-in yard.  Sometimes, they chase each other ... sometimes, someone blows a horn ... or whistles.  We asked them not to.  They understood ... and won't do it in the future.

Kissy will go to the doc-doc (our vet) next Wednesday.  He'll have a x-ray to determine what is wrong.  He'll also, get his nails trimmed.

He is stiff when he gets up from lying down.  We worry about him.  I came up with a way to stop Kissy, and Camie from running in, and out of their pet door.  I made a sign, taped it to their pet door!

Now ... if they stop running in, and out ... I'll know they can read!  They are very smart!  :)  It's easy to see the sign ... it's taped to their pet door!




Photo/story are owned by me, Gloria Faye Brown Bates.  I made the sign, also :)

A Pure, White Snowflake ...

A Pure, White Snowflake...

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee ... 2015

I thought I saw a snowflake fall from the sky

I stood there watching for others that would surely come

Another snowflake fell on my nose

As two more fell on my cheek

I felt excitement inside my heart

It's snowing, it's snowing

I wanted to run, and twirl around

Like a little girl, a little child

This is the effect snow has on me

It makes me feel happy, light in heart

I want to make snow cream

Eat it by the crackling fireplace

I love to snuggle up in my warm coat

Along with a colorful scarf

Put my soft mittens to my face

Close my eyes, feel such happiness

It's snowing, it's snowing

There's no telling how deep it'll get

I don't care how deep it'll be

I just want to play in the snow like a child

Forget all my grief, sadness

That weighs down my heart

I want to be like a snowflake

Run, twirl, fall to the white ground

Look up into the sky as the flakes

Fall on me, into my face

I'm a snowflake on the ground

No thoughts, no sadness, no pain

I jump up and run, twirl around

My hair turns white with all the snow

I have no thoughts to cause me pain

Because I can only concentrate on... being a snowflake

All I can see is white

All I can feel is white

I know nothing more than

Being a snowflake... a pure, white snowflake

It's Good To Be Back Home ...

It's Good To Be Back Home ...
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee ... 2014



Standing on the threshold ... one foot in the door
Death reached out its dark hand to pull me in
I'm here to escort you home ... come in

Looking past him, into a void
Shadows everywhere ... no sunshine, here
Flames began to leap, trying to burn my soul

I'm at the door of Hell ... this isn't where I belong
At the wrong door, I'm almost too weak
To try to go to the right door ... where I belong

I'm not perfect, I'm not bad ... I'm a good person
I don't belong in Hell ... I'm not staying here
Poof! My soul takes off in flight ... I land on another step

In front of it, was another door ... a door made of gold
I know instantly I'm where I belong
Heaven's door ... knock, knock ... open the door

The door opened ... golden light spilled out onto me
Warming my very soul ... let me in, this is where I want to go
The angel of white ... reached out to take my hand

She had a welcoming smile on her beautiful face
Her wings fluttered gently, creating a soft breeze
This is where I want to go ... I see white figures walking around

I reached for her hand, I knew this was where I belonged
No matter, I wasn't perfect ... only as good as I could possibly be
As soon as she took my hand ... she became still

It's not time for you to come home, she said
Though, you do belong here in Heaven
No matter, you aren't perfect ... you're good as you can be

You have to go back, now ... you have a purpose
It's up to you to find, know what it is you have to do
Stay good as you can possibly be ...

So, you can come back to Heaven's door ... take my hand
Let me welcome you to Heaven, where you belong
Go, now ... you can't come home yet ... one day you can

Poof!  I open my eyes to see ... I'm in a hospital room
I hear people talking, see them standing over me
I smile up at them ... it's good to be back home!


Poem, photo ... both are owned (written) by me, Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Please Don't Bully Me ...

Please Don't Bully Me ...
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Gloria Faye Brown ... Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee ... I was a little girl, once.


　

Her stomach felt as if someone had placed a brick in the bottom of it. She tried to take a deep breath ... it kept becoming stuck ... making her chest hurt. I don't want to go! I don't want to go!

Anyone glancing her way way, could see a little girl standing at the bus stop. The wind blowing her curly hair. She was a cute, little girl ... just a little chubby. Chubby enough, to be teased by other children.

Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear!

Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair!

Fatty, Fatty ... two by four ... can't get through the bathroom door!

Fat bitch ... you are a fat bitch!

She heard the bus coming ... she felt faint. She couldn't take a deep breath ... it stayed stuck in her chest. She knew once she got on the bus ... bad things would happen to her.

She had no one to tell ... no one to protect her. She had to take the abuse dealt to her. She was but, a little girl. She lived in Hell ... she wasn't big enough, yet ... to give Hell back when it was deserved. If only she could turn into a lion ...

The bus stopped in front of her ...she could see the yellow ... hear the air ... the door opened. She tripped on the step, trying to climb up. She heard laughter ... her face was on fire. It was just beginning ...

As she walked down the aisle, looking for a seat ... she saw children deliberately sliding to the edge of the seat ... to make sure she couldn't sit down. The little girl was left standing in the aisle ... the bus moved on. She was very afraid ...

She almost fell to the floor ... the pain was great. She looked to see who had pushed her. The big boy named Dallas, had pushed her. He was glaring at her, daring her to say a word. His girlfriend, Peggy, was sitting beside him ... laughing. No mercy was in her eyes.

The little girl felt hot tears flow down her face. Dallas tormented her every day of her life, when she went to school. She didn't want to ride the damn bus.

Grandma Alma and George wanted her to be safe, ride the bus. She was hurt every day ... both physically, mentally. She'd rather die, than to ride the bus. Her mind began to think ... how she could just ... die.

She never saw any peace. Life hurt at every turn ... nothing she could do was right. Screamed, cussed at when at home ... picked on by big kids at school, teachers. No peace ... her young life was in turmoil, constantly.

Pain spread into her head. The boy had slapped her in the back of her head. She began crying ... she didn't mean to, but ... she couldn't stop herself. She never wanted anyone to see that they had hurt her.

Her tears were fuel to the fire ... Dallas hit her again in her back, shoving her forward ... she fell down to her knees. No one helped her as she tried to get up. She knew this would be the last time she rode the bus ... she'd die first before ever getting on this bus, again.

She knew where pills were ... Grandma Alma had lots of bottles of medicine. She knew what she was going to do. She hated Dallas, and his girlfriend ... hated everybody but, Grandma Alma, George.

She hated her mama; her mama had left her where no one wanted her ... left her in everyone's way. They hated her. She begged her mama not to leave her ... she wouldn't let her mom kiss her goodbye, before she left. Her mama was leaving her again. I hate you, mama!

That evening she came home ... after surviving the bus ride. She was angry, hurt. She wasn't big enough ... yet ... to fight back. She would be, one day. For now, she wasn't.

She was going to fight like hell one day if someone had the nerve to put their hands on her ... she would tear their asses up! She ... would hurt them back.

You are nothing but, a goddam he-man! Alright, goddamn it, I'm a damn he-man! She could hear Grandma Alma, and George cussing, as she walked up to the screen door. Everywhere she went, someone was angry ... her stomach felt sick. She wanted to die ... she had no where to go ... if she ran away, no one would care.

Cussing, arguing ... they raved on. Grandma Alma was paralyzed from a stroke. She only had one good hand ... she dragged one leg behind her, when walking on her walker.

George was blind ... there were conflicting stories about how he came to be blind. George could do amazing things ... as a blind man. Not only could he do amazing things ... he was the kindest man the little girl ever knew ... but, now ... he was cussing up a storm ... sounded like thunder... he was so loud.

Sometimes ... Grandma Alma, and George didn't know they got everyone tickled. Sometimes ... they were funny. Sometimes ... they were startled when all was quiet ... and out of the blue, George would thunder!

She walked slowly inside, through the living room ... into the middle room (as an adult ... she nicknamed the middle room ... 'the arena' ... it was where Hell broke loose; where all the action happened. Grandma Alma, George had the ... front road seats; so, did she).

Walking into the middle room, Grandma Alma ... George ... stopped cussing. They smiled at her, began asking how school was. She began to cry, ran to Grandma Alma's chair. She fell to her knees, put her head on Grandma Alma's lap.

Grandma Alma's good hand began to pat, rub her head. The little girl told her how mean everyone was to her. Grandma Alma talked softly to her ... George walked out of the room. She almost fell asleep ... Grandma Alma calmed her down.

That evening, she didn't try to kill herself ... run away. That came at a later time. That evening, everything was alright. She wouldn't be riding the school bus anymore ... she could begin walking to school.
............................................................................................................................................
　

Photos/story are both owned, written by me ... Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee.

This story is true ... to this day, I still see the mean boy who tormented me as a little girl ( yes, I was the little girl), made my life triple Hell.  I look straight at his eyes ... he can't look back at me.

I still 'hate' him ... he knows it. He can't look into my eyes. I've never seen his hateful girlfriend, since. He almost made me take my life as a child ... because he bullied me, unmercifully.  Oh, I still 'hate' her, too.

I truly try to be the nicest, best person in the world. I try to never hate ... hate is always beneath the surface. I was mistreated as a child too much to ever forget ... that doesn't mean I'm not a kind, good person. I am ...

I'm not perfect, but ... I am a good person. I can still 'raise Hell', though. It's ... in me. Hate, anger ... Hell. I know all as well, as I know ... grief, pain. It's a part of me ... just as much as being a good, kind person, is.

It's just not easy to ... bully ... me, now. The last person to find that out ... was someone from my childhood. We were adults ... I gave her 3 chances ... the third time ... I got her ass! It felt wonderful ... and I loved the expressions on everyone's faces ... when her ass hit the floor.
..............................................................................................................................................

People who bully others ... are cowards.  They should instantly have their asses kicked to Hell, and back.  That's my opinion ... there's no need to try to change it ... it's a 'Gloria Opinion'.

Seriously ... anyone who bullies another ... never knows what that person goes through each day ... just to live.  A little child is fragile ... they have no one to turn to ... when they are bullied from every direction.  Take someone under your wing ... don't bully.

　

　
　

That Was Your World ... Back Then

That Was Your World ... Back Then
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee ... photo/story owned by me.  My world sure wasn't 'perfect' ... back then.  I lived where 'everything' ... happened ... in Hell.


　


Where I am from ... no one ever did such things. Why, we could leave our front doors open, unlocked at all times. No one ever broke in on anyone. We never had any crime.


People didn't use to be disrespectful to others when I was growing up. They knew if they did ... someone would put them in their place; maybe ... whip their ass. Today ... people are so mean ... no one cares to be nice to others. Watch our peers on the news ... now, they fight in public, curse each other. They set these examples for our children.


All this damn technology ... I hate a cellphone, computers, all that mess! When I was young, we didn't have such a complicated life. Children played outside ... today, children don't know what playing outside is ... and if ... they play outside ... someone would steal their ass! Predators lurking around every corner! Personally ... I 'pure love' ... technology. Give me a computer, tablet, cellphone ... anytime!


No privacy! Cameras everywhere! I wonder how many times I've scratched my ass ... and it be recorded? Picked my nose? Adjusted my underwear to get it out of my crack?


Think about it ... we all do it! Of course, we don't say we do ... we pretend to be so 'above it all'. You are human, aren't you? You scratch your ass, pick your nose ... and I guarantee you ... you have to pull your underwear out of your crack ... once in a while! Don't say you don't! I saw ... you!


Back then ... when life was perfect ... the pace much slower than today ... people were courteous, more caring. No one wanted to commit crime, shoot and rape someone. In my neighborhood ... we were just close-knitted.


I beg to differ ... and what I say next is strictly once again ... my 'Gloria Opinion' ... I won't argue with anyone. You have yours, I have mine ... so, be it.


I say 'back then' ... there wasn't an over-population of people ... everyone living close quarters. So, when something happened ... no one knew it right away. News didn't travel as fast, 'back then'...


Things 'did' happen, maybe not as often ... but, they did happen. Why, I remember when I was little ... about a little girl in the countryside asleep in her bed ... was taken out of her bed, away from the house, raped. The man came through her bedroom window screen. We used to sleep with our windows up ... doors wide open.


One night, my aunt woke up to see a big man standing on the porch in the doorway. Only an unlocked screen door stood between him, and all of us ... asleep on the quilt on the floor, in the living room. She screamed, scaring him away.


People disappeared ... murder happened. What did you say? It never happened where you lived your perfect life ... in your neighborhood, 'back then'?


I don't believe it ... you still think it's like that today? Come on .... times have changed. In today's time ... any, and everything happens, now. There are so many people ... they keep coming ... when they come like cattle ... predators come, also. They lurk around silently, watching for an opportunity to strike.


They will take your little children ... beat up your parents ... rape, rob, murder them. They will never think about what they did ... they have no hearts. They prey on the weak. They have to do it ... they are animals ... they know nothing else.


Home invasions ... bust into someone's life, unexpectedly ... completely change the path of people ... families. Who in the f___ has the right to do that? But, sadly ... predators take it upon themselves to decide when they'll step into someone else's lives ... change it, forever.


Walk along your path ... without a care in the world. Trust always in everyone to not hurt, rob ... murder you. You will live in a fairy tale world ... I promise you, reality will wake you up ... or put you to sleep, permanently.


I'm not going to walk being afraid ... I would fight like hell to live. I am going to always take precaution ... not set myself up to be slaughtered. My motto is: avoid putting yourself in a compromising situation. Things do, will happen.


Of course ... they didn't ... back then. Especially ... not in your world.

Poof! Just Like That!

Poof! Just Like That!
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

　






Photo is of me, owned by me at about 3 years old.  Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee









Thunder roared like an angry lion

Booming ... pulsing in the night air

Lightening slashed across the sky like vicious claws



It was one hell of a storm going on

Winds blew, screeched with screams from Hell

No one was safe, inside ... or out



A small girl sat frozen on her grandma's old, red, vinyl couch

Knowing demons from Hell would be coming for her

She held her breath ... her chest hurt



The old, ragged quilt was wrapped tightly around her

A pretense of being a protective cloak when they came

She could hide her eyes from seeing ... look, when she had the nerve



The electric went off ... she sat in darkness, then ... flashing light

The lightening ... darkness, made her more frightened

There it was, it was there, all the time; just inside the bedroom door



It rolled to a stop to make it's entry known

Blue-red colors glowed all the way through

A huge, round ball of lightening from Hell



Sat looking at her ... she almost fainted from fear

It would probably get her this time ... it didn't, last time

Rolling a short distance toward her, it stopped again



Seemingly, deciding whether to cross the room, or not

Her little hands gripped the quilt, feeling the cotton from the hole

The thread was unraveled ... she could feel it in her hand



The little girl's back was pressed tightly into the corner

Silently praying, begging for it not to see her

She knew it did ... she knew it wanted her



The huge ball of lightening rolled across the floor

Toward her, quickly ... she closed her eyes because she knew

It was her little ass it was coming after



She'd kiss it goodbye if she could

No time, no time at all to kiss her ass goodbye

Because ... she was gone; Poof! Just like that

　


NOTE by this author:

I was going another, more serious way with this poem, while writing it ... but, 'something' took over ... and I had no choice but, to write it this way. Like my characters in a story ... they tell me what to do ...

All is true, excepting 'getting gone' ... the lightening ball disappeared before ... getting to me, as a little girl. I lived with my Grandma Alma.

Story/photo are owned by me, Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

　

　
　

Swirls Of Smoke ... Dried Flowers, Ribbon ... Grandma Alma's In The House!

Swirls Of Smoke ... Dried Flowers, Ribbon ... Grandma Alma Was In The House!
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

My son, Tommy ... at Grandma Alma's grave.  She was his great-grandmother.  Grandma Alma was so special to me in my young life; I can't tell anyone in words how her death affected me.  I have been trying ... in words ... to tell you how Tommy's death has affected me ... I wouldn't be here, now ... if I had not been writing.  That's the cold, stark truth ... Photo is owned by me, Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee.


　

Deep in conversation ... we sat at the dining table, drinking cups of hot coffee. We were discussing the package that had arrived earlier that day.

The big, brown ... padded envelope lay in the center of the table ... on top of it ... lay the contents. Our eyes were drawn there as we talked. Tears were in our eyes ... this meant something to all of us.

As we spoke, I looked at the dried flowers. I could see the faded colors on them. I loved beauty ... I loved to draw, paint. I appreciated how pretty they were ... even if they meant something very sad, painful to me.

My Grandma Alma's death affected me, greatly. No one ever knew ... I lived away from everyone in ... the family. My Grandma Alma played such a huge role in my young life ... not only that, she lived in Hell ... so, did I. Countless grandchildren were thrown there to ... survive. We ... all ... grew up ... scarred, burned by the ... flames of Hell.

I write my story ... sadly, I can't write theirs. I can be their witness if they should ever write, just as they are mine. We can validate each other, if need be.

In my stories ... know that I wasn't the only ... 'survivor' ... and when I write 'about then' ... I am seeing their little faces, also ... in the corner of my mind ... my mind's eye keeps looking toward them.

Sometimes, 'now' ... one of them will say ... 'I lived that, also' ... when you write ... 'you are writing my story, too'. I'm writing my story ... I can't tell theirs ... only they ... knew ... how it 'felt to live their life'.

Only they knew the kind of pain they lived ... We all went through things, the others didn't know ... only after growing up ... sometimes, these things were revealed. We would always say ... 'so, that's why'! Then, the next thing one of us would say ... would be ... 'Oh, my God'!

Cousins ... we were cousins. I lived in the North Carolina mountains, and my cousin ... Jimmy, had come to visit. He was staying several days. Tommy, my son (at that time, he was very young) ... was also, sitting at the table.

I thought the world of Jimmy. He was smart ... truthfully, instead of me ... he should have been the writer of the family. I never thought to write, 'then' ... and always encouraged him to write a book.

My writing 'then' ... was 18-20 page letters to everyone ... people complained of 'too long' letters! Sometimes ... I just couldn't stop writing; I even drew pictures on the sheets I wrote on ... envelopes. 'Now' ... I type my letters ... draw, doodle on the envelopes.

Jimmy never did write a book before he died ... he could have written 'one hell of a damn good book'! He sure could write! Not only that ... he could paint. He could do all ... so, much better than me ... more sophisticated.

The smoke going up from the table was so natural ... Jimmy always smoked. There was an ashe tray close by, for him. As we continued to talk ... something kept niggling at me, as I watched the smoke rise up in a soft, gentle spiral. Something was trying to get my attention ...

Oh, my God ... the 'smoke' wasn't coming from the ashe tray ... Jimmy didn't have a cigarette lit ... the smoke was rising from the dried flowers, ribbon ... laying on the big, brown envelope! My eyes were darting to the ashe tray ... to the envelope with the flowers ... I was trying to make some sort of sense ...

I was in shock ... I knew what I was seeing ... looked to Jimmy, to see if he noticed. He was noticing! The smoke disappeared.

I reached out to pick the dried flowers up ... to see if somehow, dust was rising from them ... it wasn't. I held them in my hand. My Aunt Frankie had kept her promise, sent them to me.

My Grandma Alma had died ... I went to her funeral, came back to the mountains. Aunt Frankie told me she'd send some of Grandma Alma's flowers to me, later.

I checked to see what could have made the 'smoke' rise from the flowers ... there wasn't anything that could have caused it. This was the subject of our conversation, now.

Did you see that! Can you believe what your eyes just saw? We were sitting there ... stunned, knowing we'd just witnessed something unusual. Tommy's little face showed amazement ... how did that happen?

I began putting the flowers, ribbon back into the padded envelope, gently. I treasured Grandma Alma's flowers ... I didn't want them to become damaged ... a little wisp of smoke slowly rose up from the opening of the envelope!

I dropped the package onto the table ... leaned forward quickly to look closer. I wanted to see that smoke, examine it! I knew it was real ... my mind just couldn't accept what I was seeing.

It was real ... the little wisp of smoke ... went away ... just like it had never been there. Jimmy witnessed the whole thing. Through the years, we spoke of this ... we knew what it was.

Grandma Alma was in the house!



NOTE FROM THIS AUTHOR:

This is a true story ... most all I write is true, from my life. If it isn't, I will say so, at the end. I saw strange things all through my life ... if I hadn't seen them ... and heard someone else say they did ... it would be hard to believe.

I don't tell all I see ... or know; it's not my nature. Everything ... doesn't ... have to be ... told in life. Some things in my life ... will never be told, nor talked about to anyone.

All photos I use on my stories/posts ... stories written ... are owned by me ... Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

My Thoughts, Yours ... Now, Wrapped Into One

My Thoughts, Yours ... Now, Wrapped Into One
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Artwork on chair, and box on the chair by me ... Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

　


I moved around the room

Lingered over various objects

Stopped on one in particular

I don't have the power to open it

I surround it with lots of love

Caress it with the breeze

I'm but, a thought in the air

It's your photo in a locket, I want to see

Unless my body helps me ... I can't

Open me, the locket seems to say

Look at me, know that no matter what

I'll always love you

I'm but, a thought in the air

Another thought came from nowhere

It wasn't me, I looked at it in interest

It said to me ... I'm gone, now

I can't come back

Excepting in a thought, I can

I can remind you how I love you

Let you know you aren't alone

Though you can't see me

I wrapped myself around that precious thought

Held on tight as I came back to my body's mind

I held on for comfort, it was all I had

You are gone, your thoughts still here

You left them with me, when you had to go away

My thoughts, yours ... now, wrapped into one



NOTE BY AUTHOR:   I think I was inspired to write this when I read a poem today ... that a woman wrote just after her husband died.  I could feel her loss, pain ... grief.
　

Photo/poem are both owned by me (poem written by me)... Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Sad, Bittersweet Smile Of A Grieving Mother ...

Sad, Bittersweet Smile Of A Grieving Mother...

 By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/ aka Granny Gee

 

 

This is the very last photo of Tommy on May 29, 2010 .... just a short time before he died that fateful evening.  He made it to Myrtle Beach for a family vacation ... unexpectedly, left on another journey ... he never came back from.

 

The poem below, I wrote sometime ago ... I just read it once more ... added it to my collection of poems, stories on a poetry site ... I am sharing it here. 

 

Who would have ever thought when Tommy went on vacation ... arrive safely, much to my relief ... to leave unexpectedly on another journey ... who would have thought?  Just moments, after he did what he wanted most to do ... play with his little son, Taban ... on the beach. 

 

Son, one day when I have to go, be here no more
I don't want you to have to feel pain... grieve for me
Everything's going to be alright

I want you to be prepared ... just in case
It's the way life is... parents go before the child
I want to tell you how to remember me, Son

Each night you see the moon, stars... I want you to know
That I'm up there, shining down on you with love
Know that I'm close by, always loving you... I told my son

See me in the happy colors you encounter in life
In a field of flowers... beautiful colored fabrics, paints
When the sunshine warms you... feel my love

When a soft breeze ruffles your blonde-strawberry, wavy hair
It's me ... ruffling it just as I did when you were a little boy
Close your eyes, feel your mama hug you, Son

I always thought I'd go first... that's the way it's supposed to be
Parents aren't supposed to outlive their children
Feel the grief of losing a child, a life they brought into the world

I have been through many close calls, being very ill
I wanted my son to always know if I should go away
To be prepared for it... hoping he wouldn't have to feel pain

That everything would be alright... it's the way life can be
To have a special way of remembering his mama
To know, have a way to feel his mother's love

Like pennies dropped from heaven... rice in unexpected places
Letting one know it's the special way for a loved one
To reach out from the other side to say... I love you

The strange thing is that I prepared my son
We didn't prepare ... me ... for the day he went away
The day he went away... forever

Children aren't supposed to die before their parents
My only child... my son died before me, his mother
Left me here to grieve for him... it wasn't supposed to be that way

How did he say to remember him if he should go away first?
I keep asking myself that question, only to remember
Remember that we never discussed that... I knew I'd go first

I sit here with my memories, photos of my son
Photos of his children... all have gone away
As if... they never existed ... sometimes, life can be that way

At this moment I grieve for him, but... I can't cry
My tears have all cried out... until there are no more
So, all I can do... is sit here... smile my sad, bittersweet smile

Let the pain flow from my heart into my fingertips
Spill out words like the stormy ocean during a storm
Swirling around... waves crashing until... calming down

It happened again... I promised to share
Tell  you about grief when it happened
Now... everything is alright once again ... please don't say a word

Grief, pain is what I know best... this is what I write
Don't feel sorry for me... I'm very strong
It's been a long journey... I didn't know I would... but, I survived

- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/11899200-Sad--Bittersweet-Smile-of-a-Grieving-Mother...-by-Granny-Gee#sthash.aPPqkJyV.dpuf

Don't Run A Game On Me!

Don't Run A Game On Me!
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Skip ... watching a movie at his desk, in his study ... my world is him, our Pups.

　


I have been sitting at my computer writing for my blogs, and catching Camie's Facebook page up. Skip called out to ask me if I needed a glass of tea, Pepsi. I told him ... I had some, thank you!

A few minutes later, Skip came into my art room, holding out a fork. He wanted me to taste something he cooked. It was a piece of potato he had fried in the deep fryer.

Skip loves his deep-fryer, though ... he cooks in it, rarely. Today, is an exception ... he is beginning to feel better after being very sick this weekend. We both are getting over a quick-acting bug that made both of us very sick.

Anyway ... I tasted the cut-up potato ... it was so good! Oh my! Skip, you cook so much better than I do, when you cook! Mmmm-mmmmmmmmmm, that's so good. Wow! How come your cooking's so much better than mine?

Skip began to laugh at me, and said, "Don't run a game on me"! He walked back to the kitchen. I sat here ... grinning. Boy, does he know me! But ... the truth is, Skip CAN cook, bake very good!




Photo/story are both owned by me.  Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee
　

Please ... Check Yes ... Or No

Please ... Check Yes ... Or No
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

Little Girl ... me, as a child

Photo owned by me,
Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee




　
 











My little hand hid the paper beneath it

I was writing a love note, drawing blocks

For the answer ... yes or ... no

Do you love me, I ask

My stomach feeling butterflies

As I waited for his answer

On my desk, lay a folded note

I picked it up, slowly opened it

My eyes instantly drawn to a block

That was checked, with a heart

Drawn around it ... yes! it said

Making my heart soar into the sky

He loves me, he loves me not

Yes, he loves me ... the butterflies fluttered

Tickling my stomach ... until I laughed in happiness!