Happy Bday, Baby

Tomorrow is my husband’s birthday. Happy birthday, Honey! 🙂

Guy isn’t the best husband I’ve ever met or known. But I don’t see what everyone’s husband is like at home. So, I sit and write, corrected. He may be the best. Maybe. But, for sure, he’s the best husband I’ve ever had. (I’ve only had the one.)

Guy is very caring. Listens more than most. Can be very understanding. Is emotional. Sentimental. Loving. Sexy. Affectionate! Flawed.

Temperamental! Demanding, at times. Sometimes selfish.

Guy is still the funniest person I personally know. Perhaps just as funny as most celebrities. And just as creative and talented, given the chance.

He’s brilliant, in his way. Sensitive to the world. And darn handsome IMO.

He puts up with my issues/PTSD/abuse history. He also accepts our meager living due to my artistic passions and multiple difficulties with physical and mental health.

And. Guy is striving toward a relationship with God, Christ and the Holy Spirit. This is his most wonderful and inspiring trait right now. I see him trying. Struggling. Holding a light of inspection over his life to see how to make it better. For me, for Lilli and for himself. But most of all, to serve God.

I see this desire. I see his yearning. I pray for him every day that it will grow and that he will change. Not for me, but for himself and for God.

I love you, Honey. I’m so glad you were born. That you survived. That you’re here with me, that we created Lilli, and that we have this place, together. I know I’m not perfect. Neither of us are. But we have each other and that’s a lot. I’m so glad your parents loved each other, created your life, and that you are here against all odds. They would be proud. And I know my mom loves you, like you were her own. So many people do love you. You have done good in the world and I praise you for that. HBD, Guy.

You saved me from a life of loneliness, isolation and destruction. Thank you.

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Making People

Each of these people
Were made by two parents.
Molded and shaped
By opinions, thoughts and variants.

These two people
Made four more humans.
They didn’t do it perfectly.
In fact, our family’s in ruins.

Their legacy was not premeditated.
Their good intentions paved the way,
To Hell and back and there again–
Four lanes without delay.

This kiss and marriage caught some place
Between Heaven and Hell.
A dark, rock-hard place between their love
Is where my childhood fell.

Like a photograph that floats down
Behind a dresser, trapped by wall.
Forgotten with time, buried by dust.
Neglected, unseen by all.

But.

Their love made me.
Shouldn’t I be thankful for this?
I couldn’t think of something more lovely
Than a passionate wedding kiss.

Thankful to be here. No matter what.

Wife

The clothes are washed.
The dishes are done.
Everything’s finished.
The course has been run.

To its bedtime,
I race the sun.
Hoping to remember,
“Leave nothing undone.”

But I fail.

I failed to love you
More than you deserve.
I failed to catch you
When you leapt off with nerve.

I failed to respond
With kindness and restraint.
I succeeded in failing
At withholding complaint.

I’m sorry.

It’s not a matter of racing to the end.
It’s not a matter of winning at life.
It is a matter of walking with purpose.
It is a matter of being a good wife.

I’m not a good wife to you
If I focus on all wrong you have wrought.
It would be better of me
To remember all good you have brought.

Thank you.

I struggle with fairness
And relinquishing grace.
I like to hold grudges,
Call attention to mistakes.

I’m trying so hard to be Perfect.
And I’ve missed the boat.
I should try harder to be Forgiving.
And erase the past someone else wrote.

I love you.

This Mess is Mine

My circus. My monkeys.

guy and lil (3).jpg

If I have to run away with the circus,
I’ll always be in your ring.
Juggle all the things you toss,
Hold the net when you bravely swing.

You make me shake and tremble.
Hold my breath, close my eyes, say a prayer.
Though I wouldn’t want to miss the show,
Watching stars burn bright in the air.

You are my circus.
You’re my car full of clowns.
You are my monkeys.
Medicine for frowns.

You’re the lion tamers,
The death-defiers,
The tight-rope walkers,
The brave high-flyers.

I never want to be out
From under the ol’ Big Top.
This is where I belong.
I don’t want the fun to stop.

So please stay in my tent.
I don’t mind the mess.
You can be my circus.
I wouldn’t settle for anything less.


Love you both.

Love Words

I’m in love with your words.
They seduce me with sounds like:
grace
mercy
comfort
unconditional love.

I’m in love with your face.
It draws me with lines like:
chin
lips
cheek
eyes.

I’m in love with your hands.
They play me with strength like:
pluck
stroke
feather
hold.

I’m in love with your heart-and-mind.
It’s a mystery to unlock like:
LIFE.

 

Gonna Getchu

I’ve explained to my husband several times. “I’m gonna getchu, Sucka!”

I’ve been threatening to catch up to his weight for a while. Idle threats from a 456+ lb. thyroid cancer victim.

“I got time!” he supposed.

Well. I’m here, Sucka!

I am at 321.4 today and I’m breathing down your neck, Guy! HEEHEE!

I’m a very competitive person when it comes to my husband. I think it’s because I’m an Aries. Or just a jerk.

I don’t like competing with strangers. Just my husband. It’s because I admire him so much and I want him to admire me. So I have to beat him. At everything. I’m so sorry, honey!

He is my equal. My peer. The funniest sonuvagun I’ve ever met. I want him to think the same. This is my Aries persona: I must best him. Crush him. NO! JK! I just want to impress the man. He’s hard to impress. Aries is attracted to someone who is better than they are, but then they try to outdo their partner. I’m just so crazy. Egomaniac.

Every time I update him with my weight loss, I see, at the same time, excitement and terror! He knows how close I am. He squeals with delight and sheer hole-puckering fright when I tell him how much I’ve lost every day. I love his glee and equal gloom.

Thanks, Guy. For helping me. Caring for me after surgery. Watching me suffer with your hands tied. Listening. Wiping my cold-sweaty brow. Sharing CPAP duties. Taking me to the ER when my guts were open to the world. For just staying. For almost 19 years. I love you so much, dear. You’re my sun, moon, stars. I don’t deserve you, but I’m thankful for you.

AND I am, in fact, coming for you. Get ready!

Domestic Violence

So, I’m writing a play. I’ve written two plays so far and this is my third. I started this really cool piece about domestic violence and shelter living for women. I had planned to offer as a charitable fundraiser for local DV shelters. Then I got derailed, the project stalled on the other end and I haven’t been back to it. I was hoping to share here for some feedback. Here is an excerpt, let me know your thoughts.


WOMAN 1: Yeah, even her husband acts this way. (Referring to WOMAN 2)

WOMAN 2: (Lights go down on group, WOMAN 2 comes down front) It’s true. She’s right. I mean, I don’t know if all men act this way, but my husband does. The only difference between her husband and mine is that he buys me a diamond ring to apologize. We never know what people are going through behind closed doors. I don’t wanna be here, but I have no place to go. My dad is gone, my mom is in assisted living. My kids are at college and the house is in his name. Everything is. Bank accounts, cars, houses. I don’t want any of it anyway. I never did. I only wanted him. And I wanted him to want me the same. The first time he hit me, we were in college. He was drunk and I was mad. He’d been flirting all night with our friend’s new girl. Kissing her on the hand?! Laughing at all her dumb jokes. After we left, I complained the whole way home. I’d never been so mad with him before and he did not like it. He didn’t say a word until we got to his apartment. He shut the door, it was dark, he cornered me and whispered, “Don’t you ever talk to me that way again.” He waited for a few seconds. I thought he was walking away and then he turned and knocked me silly. I never questioned him again. I’m not sure why I didn’t leave that night. I know I felt guilty for thinking the worst of him. That was the first time, but for sure not the last. When I said nothing at his flirtations and when I said nothing about his business dealings and when I didn’t interfere with the kids, he’d still find a reason to hit. Or choke. Or…humiliate. All alone, at night, in private. In our room. In bed. I don’t keep this ring because I love jewelry or I like how it looks on my finger. I keep it because I’m not ready to give up on love. And I feel safe with it on. That’s ridiculous, I know. But you know, I earned this ring. I had to take a punch or two…or ten…to get it.


So that’s just one of the women I’m writing for. The idea is that they are in group therapy in the shelter and one by one, between dialogue, we hear each individual story over the course of the play. Really minimal set. Also, flashbacks of a woman from the 70s, winding up in the hospital for the umpteenth time, finally able to go to the new DV shelter that just opened. Her name is Hope.

I’d love to hear ideas, stories and feedback. Thanks for reading.

Do you fall in love with your own face?

Yes. Yes, you do.

I smashed the two halves of our faces together (my husband and I) one day and realized, “I fell in love with my own face!”

How utterly narcissistic. LOL Falling in love with your own face and then photoshopping your faces together. Both of those things are nar-suh-friggin’-sistic. 😀

But it’s true.

Granted, I don’t have the same skin tone and dark features, but! our facial symmetry is astonishing. To me. I did not stretch the image at all!

Are you part of a couple? Want me to smash your faces together to show you how much you look like your partner??

Send me two pix of same resolution size and facing forward in the same pose. Head shots. Send to martha.maggio@sbcglobal.net and I’ll smash ’em up for you! I love this theory.

If you send me your pix, I need your permission to share in future posts. K?

Can’t wait to see all the freaky faces.

Unfailing

Like the ship on a sea,
My body is Home.
You always have rest
Wherever you roam.

To know true Peace
We must struggle and wrestle.
Our cargo is Honesty
Carried far in a vessel.

Don’t give up, please,
Holding through the night.
Words and wisdom will come.
Keep praying for the light.

Like sun in the morning,
Your smile is Life.
Want is not need.
Sacrifice is a Wife.