Me, Marsha Marie

  Dear Diary,  My writing prompt for today it write a fantasy life that involves you and your best friend. Oh, that one is so easy. I would love teach in Egypt. As a matter of fact, if I had an Aladdin's Lamp, I would create this whole fricken fantasy life where I'm in Egypt with my best friend Maha. We would be running a language school where teaching English and life skills would be the center focus.  I would design all of the curriculums ( or for nerdy folks, curricula , both are acceptable ) and Maha would handle running the school. And you know, we would not stop there. We would open schools all across both the Asian and African continents.  I would not need to be in front of the class anymore, because I would have lots of teachers working for me. I would be the Bruce-Lee-of-English-teaching . I would pass on all of my teaching wisdom and our language centers would be the greatest teaching brand in the world. Yep, we would open up franchises all over the globe. ...

  My Room  by Marsha Marie  my bed, my cloud of peacefulness and escape my desk, with two windows to the world.  my closet, my portal to wardrobes of the past my box of pics, countless memories my laptop, a catalyst of expression my basket of toys and a crib to boot, my grandbaby's day care my swivel rocker chair, a comforting sight with its quirky squeak my file cabinet, documents-documents-documents, a family history in writing my 80's boombox, oh the memories! my large box of 300 markers, pens and pencils - how many does one person need? LOL 😆 my Bangles -book poster hanging high, a gentle reminder of a life long gone my pics of my grandchildren, the truest form of my happiness my mom's high school graduation picture, she is so lovely and young and then there is my personal pharmacy, a crude reminder of my cancer-ridden today ...............God grant me the grace to accept where I am at this time in my life and forgiveness to accept my limitations my room is my s...

  Bushes by Marsha Marie looking thru the branches i feel lost everyday confused of what will happen of where i will belong fruit of passion has dried its last withered pulse fruit of the spirit is all i have left tangled branches engulf my life yet they do not hide me green, yellow, tan and brown like emotions they pass me around can i taste them? can i share them? the thorns are in the way fruit of compassion i see to the left fruit of resistance i see to the right who is the master grower in all of this confusion? why is he not pruning where i need? or is he and i do not see it? the floor is dry  the twigs crackle under pressure yet when i look up i see the light the light that will guide my spirit upwards where i belong

  Here I sit alone again. In a quiet hospital room - with soft, distant beeps calling out.  Nine months since my last blog post. I stare at a blank screen. My health? Well, no white blood counts; no immune system to write home about.  My new norm as I learn to live with my surname, Leukemia.  Thankfully, I have my laptop. My window to the world outside.  Mixed emotions every day. Memories of minglings and conversations taunt me. Does anyone even know I am alive? Leukemia can be so lonely. I long for a warm hug. A warm smile. A warm caress.  Whispers of yet another stem-cell transplant linger. Can I go thru that again?  I lost 100 pounds the first time around. I don’t have another to spare.  But I have to keep hope. I have to keep trying.  Leukemia cannot stop me. It’s only putting these fucking traffic cones in the road that makes me swerve here and there. They gave me only two months to live, two years ago. I guess I am beating the odds. So ...