Me, Marsha Marie

  Dear Journal,  Today I want to talk about one of my favorite pictures of all time. Aside from my own children's baby pics of course, I can stare at this pic of my mother all day long. She was only 17 and was editor of her high school newspaper in Columbus, Ohio back in 1961.  Come appreciate a few details of this pic with me.  Firstly, take a look at those pin-curls. My mother had straight-as-a-nail hair; and would sleep with pins in her hair to get that full poof in the front. Well done Mom!!!!  I don't see any make-up, but my mother had a natural beauty about her. And that skirt!!! Is to die for?! Pencil skirts are still one of my favs to this day. Oldie but a goodie.  And did anyone catch a glimpe at that typewriter? Wow! That is vintage, isn't it? Look how big it is. (You know I have to say it........that's what she said. LOL) It is amazing to look at my adorable mother frozen in time, doing something that she loved---writing and paying close attentio...

  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

Dear Diary,  Today's writing prompt is to write about a time that I felt really happy. I cannot believe that I struggled with this topic for over three hours. One would assume that a topic so simple as this would be a breeze to discuss. Oh but contraire!  I finally started listing all the different times in my life that I felt real happiness. So my conclusion is that happiness is all relative. Relative to the different stages of my life. Like when I was a baby, I am pretty sure I was really happy to get a bottle and a cookie. And I specifically remember being really happy while watching Winnie the Poo on our roll-a-way TV .   When I was a teen, the only thing that made me happy was hour-long phone calls with friends, getting my first kiss with the boy I was most in love with at the time; and getting a 10-speed bike for Christmas. Happy days! How about the time I became a mother. I think I was pretty fricken happy with all three of them. They are my true loves of life....

  Dear Diary,  Let's take a trip back to 2006 in Islamabad, Pakistan. I was a beautiful mid-summer day and I had accidentally ran my car into a wall. Yeah. A wall. Not sure what I was thinking. I guess I was distracted and just didn't break in time. I was only going about 10 miles an hour so it wasn't too bad.  My young daughter was in the car with me and it shook both of us up a bit. I felt something trickling down the side of my face. It was blood. When the car his the wall, my head slammed into the roof handle. I was bleeding from the gash. My daughter started crying and I felt so bad.  The police came to document the accident and I called a friend to come and take me to the hospital. The hospital was a nice one. I remember it being clean and everyone was so nice. In order to keep my daughter calm, I made fun of myself and would laugh aloud and joke with the nurses. My thinking was, if I laugh then my daughter will see that I am okay. I did not want to scare her a...

  Dear Diary,  If I could write a running news tag, I would warn others not to believe everything that they read online. Despite who is writing it, you just cannot 100% trust them. Make sure to vet everything yourself. For example, I myself have read two things online about me in the last year that totally floored me. Let's look closely at these two times so you can see what I mean.  The first story was very funny. One day I was Googling some friends from my past. You know how you look up folks that you went to high school with, right? Just wanted to see how they are doing now. Surely, I am not the only one who has done this. Well anyway, I put in one of my best friend's name and was so saddened to find out that her father had past away. I clicked on his obituary and started reading the family statement. As I read thru, floods of memories came to me. I really love that family. I continued reading of my friend's siblings and their spouses. Until I got to her brother. And m...

If I Could Speak to an 11-Year-Old-Me a poem by Marsha Marie childhood youth  what do you know  times of wind change with the seasons  whispers of knowledge i have for you study and study hard  keep to yourself and leave out the carbs lower your voice and your gaze  for your heart becomes easily blazed  future self hear my plea from a fucked up future i beg you to flee but wait.......... without those mistakes would my children be three?  would culture and languages abide within me?  my children so loving just the way they are had i not turned down that road so far so never mind 11-year old me  it's best you continue down the road that is to be 

 Dear Diary,  Today I want to take you back to my very first memory. As you can imagine my first memories are blotchy at best. But this is how I remember my oldest-oldest-one. (Yes, I know I said the word "oldest" twice. It just seemed to fit here. Okay, grammar police?!) I figure I must have been lying on my back and a man looking down at me. Just past him, I could see a horse with a chain that seemed to be floating in the air. I don't remember any sounds or smells. Just seeing this man with bushy hair on each side of his face, with some more on top of his head.  You know, I find it interesting that I'm using vernacular that I would use today if I were to describe a scene in my everyday life. But let's try explaining it as how I really remember it--- childlike . I thought it would be fun to describe this first memory in a stick-figure-drawing. Again, blotchy at best.  And this is what I came up with.  Well, as you can see, there is a man, or an alien (which wou...

  Passing Glances  by Marsha Marie scared hallow faces rhythm ting ting as the tube tinkers a somber tune on the IV pole with flowered blue petals keeping us steady war heroes in the hall, sharing their past i asked are you sharing old war stories ?  the man shows pic of his bone on his phone  "yes, just making them up as we go" (he chuckles) keith - the rolling wizard.  a smile across his face.  "hi, hope you're just here for a headache!" you can hear him rolling down the hall  with the sound of  a glass IV bottle ......i think, what year am I stuck in?  the nurses and assistants are the real unsung heroes i get that now pats on my shoulder , a tissue to wipe the tears  "Do you want a hug?"   .....yes, please!

  Dear Diary,  Today's writing prompt was for me to list out everything that annoys me throughout a typical day. That sounds so negative, so instead, I want to list out some things that I really love about a typical day.  I love seeing my daughter in the morning. She is in her 30's and still comes to my room each day to give me a hug and tells me that she loves me. What could be better than this, right!? I love how everyone in my family plays with our cat, Simon each day. Simon is such a personality, that I cannot imagine our home without him. And I am sure everyone else feels the same. What a spoiled baby he is! I love my one glass of Pepsi with ice in the mornings. I only allow myself to have one a day, so this morning-Pepsi is a special treat for me. Sometimes, I want more, but have learned to control it. 😂 I love my bathroom. Yeah, you heard me right---my bathroom. Not sure what the psyche is on that, but I really love my own personal bathroom and a hot shower. Real...

  I Hate Cancer  by Marsha Marie  If ever there were a topic that was easy to write about, it would be how much I hate having cancer. Diagnosed in November of 2023, my life took a drastic change in direction. "Leukemia," they told me. "You will die if you do not start treatment immediately; two months tops."  I felt like my world had ended. The next few months were a long blur of tears, fear and vomiting.  Yes, my hair fell out. I felt like everyday could possibly be my last.  Then an option was given to me. I could get a stem-cell transplant and get an 80% survival rate. So my two choices were try to survive or die. I chose to try.  So, in March of 2024, I watched donated tiny stem-cell particles stream down a tube and into my arm. (You could actually see them when you put a light on it. Quite cool when you think about it.)  Since the diagnosis, I have lost about 70 pounds, and have taken what feels like thousands of pills. Mood swings are up and...

  Liar's Song by Marsha Marie dig deeper bury them away it does no good       to be on display gaze down  ignore me please shut the door      to hide my screams can i tell you that i love you?  can i tell you that i care?  no matter it doesn't matter      i can never be there my cries for you what a liar they are  to tell me true love is just within reach but in truth be so far  can i tell you that i love you?  can i tell you that i care?  no matter it doesn't matter      i can never be there

  The Taboo Kiss by Marsha Marie The night is bitter cold. Our shifts started at 11 pm, and the thought of seeing him again was so exciting. We meet up for class as usual and begin chatting. Eighteen years my junior, and all of his attention is on me.  Tonight he wants to go for a walk.  "Let’s go to Fatima Jinnah Park. We can take your car.”  “Sounds great. Let’s go.” The park is just down the road; so not a long drive at all. We park the car and head into the dark mini-forest. My heels clicking in the crisp air. We talk about random things. He is young and not very experienced in life. I already have two marriages and three children. The most unusual of a pairing.  His English is broken but sweet. We discuss life and things about our different cultures. I am an American and he is Pakistani.  The fog from our faces does not bother us at all. Yes, there are others walking around the park, but we don’t mind. They look like couples too, and we just look the o...

The Knock  by Marsha Marie I hear a knock at the door.  I roll my eyes. Another solicitor, I thought. I gently look thru the peephole and see no one there.  But I hear a whisper.  Open. Open.  Who are you? I say. I need nothing today.  Open. Open. The whisper increases.  Look inside and you will know who I am.   No. No. I want nothing today. ....Well, maybe just a touch. Just a feeling of warmth against my body. But you cannot. I cannot.  Open. Open. The whisper snickers. You invited me over. Why else would I have come? I wonder who I so unknowingly beckoned? Is it my lover that I have been longing for? Open. Open and find out.  I stretch out my hand and turn the nob. My heart is racing. I open the door just enough to peek. His scent rushes in as a whirl and envelops me, and I begin to fall.  Deeper and deeper. A sensual purple dances around me. The whisper booms thru my body and my heart saying: I am here. I love you. I will never...

  A Stone by Marsha Marie A dark beginning My history, a mystery spinning. Mom, my tower of strength and inspiration.  Can I be like her? Such adoration. Teenage years a blur. Then motherhood abounds. But pain my only friend as sadness surrounds. Stabbed, punched, kicked and raped. But alas I did escape. A foreign family I chose to love. Finally peace came on the wings of a dove. The happiness I was searching was a world away. For 22 years, I decided to stay. Surrendering to the man. I shook in fear.  Welcome back to America, I said thru a tear. Aged, withered and alone My loneliness makes my heart like a stone.

Am I in Love With a Memory?  By Marsha Marie   A touch down your back. My fingertips are soft and vibrate with excitement.  I lean over and gently caress your neck with my lips. Your scent blinds me with desire. How can I tell him? Will he believe me? You roll over and I gaze into your eyes.  I see the young love you once were. I replay the taste embedded in my heart. I lay in your arms and dream of how I wish things could be. I feel your heart. I feel your warmth. Kiss me and hold me. We unite and complete the passion we once burned. I often wonder if you are thinking of me. Do you miss me? Does my scent linger in your mind? Can you be my hero? Can you help me escape my self-made prison? I close my eyes and still feel your youthful smile. I imagine gliding my fingertips across your lips. Your eyes the window to your soul. I feel as if I am standing in a forest calling your name? No one hears. Not even you. I cry to the leaves to hide my shame. Hide me from the ...

Whisper      By Marsha Marie long ago too far now just a memory is it fair? a unknown voice says, yes wish i were there to keep you warm to heal the scars time has scattered between us again i feel i have hurt you. i cannot reach. if only i could hear you whisper my name. a gentle breathing of our love into existence.  a tender touch to the face a gentle kiss of remembrance but silence is deafening and distance agony a reminder of the judgment called down from high youth trampled and left us searching  but we shall never find …….we shall never find i concede oh great prophets  you have won this round  but in the shadows i will continue to whisper his name until my dying breath…. “daniel, i love you” THAT they can never drown.

  Dear Me  by Marsha Marie   Dear Me,  I know that at the time you are reading this letter you are only 17, and you think that you have all of the answers for everything. Well, you don't and you are about to make some of the biggest mistakes of your life. You may be wondering who I am, and how it is that I know so much about you. Well, I am you from the future. No seriously though! Yeah, you’re right, I did watch Back to the Future way too many times, but yea, I'm your future-self. So listen carefully. No, seriously, you have got to listen to me.   Soon you will meet a man that will change your life. His name is Tom. He will charm you, and convince you to do things that you will wish you had never done. (Don’t worry, no one else will find out what you did, but you will deeply regret those things.) You will fall head over heals and fall for the stupid shit that he says! He will convince you to marry him, and you will leave the country with him. Yep, that’s right...

(Me, with my new family in Kalu Kalan, Pakistan. 1992. We’re standing directly in front of the kitchen and the torn down room where Zain was born. Sponge rollers? I say, never leave home without them!) Ancient Ruins   (Excerpt from Bangles, My True Story of Escape, Adventure and Forgiveness, by Marsha Marie ) Another twelve hours in flight and we finally arrived in Pakistan. There seemed to be a thousand people at Islamabad Airport. The terminal was unwelcoming: brown walls and a metal ceiling. The roar of an unknown language swept through the congested area. Several luggage carousels filled the center. Zain said that we’d have to be quick getting our bags so that they wouldn’t be stolen. I kept a tight grip on both of the kids and followed him very closely.  We walked outside of the rustic terminal to an ocean of people. To be honest, I thought they were all there for us. I was in shock. How big is his family? Strangers from all different directions were grabbing me and hugg...