Nighty Night

Time Changes, Not The Wind

Since the time change, I have done the reverse of what is probably considered normal getting-used-to-time-change behavior. Instead of waking up when my body says it is 6:00 AM, which is now 7:00 AM, I’m waking up at 3:00 AM, the old 2:00 AM. So, instead of “losing” an hour, I seem to be losing four hours and it’s not like I’m going to bed any earlier. No, siree, 10:00 PM sharp it is for me, even though that used to be 9:00 PM. I'm so confused, it's no wonder my internal clock is off kilter. Or is it because two of my cats have started coming to bed to join me about that time and, instead of being content to snuggle down and go to sleep, they begin grooming each other and start on me for good measure.


The other morning, I woke up to a howling wind. No, that’s not quite accurate. The howling wind woke me up. No, that’s not right either. I woke up to the sound of a creaking, cracking ceiling above my head and thinking that Chicken Little was indeed right. It sounded like the shingles were being ripped from the roof and were crashing against the sides of the house like an old fashioned rug beater. It even sounded as if the bricks of the house were moving and groaning. It’s three damn o’clock in the morning and, even though it’s still dark, I know there is dirt blowing outside. I would say that this kind of wind normally doesn’t hit us until spring, which happily is not that far away, but that would be a lie. Here, we get wind in all of our five seasons: fall, winter, spring, summer and hell.


Just the night before, we got the wind to beat all winds. I got an alert on my phone that a haboob was to be on top of us around 8:30. (Tee hee to you, all my male friends with 15 year old boy brains .)


ha·boob
həˈbo͞ob/
noun
1. a violent and oppressive wind blowing in summer, esp. in Sudan, bringing sand from the desert. (And sometimes Texas!)


Since the haboob hit after 8:30 and it was already dark, I didn't get any pictures. The picture below is one I took during a haboobian episode one day last summer around 5:30 PM CDT.

Yes, that is a street light peeking from behind the tree, not the sun. I wish I could say that this is not a common occurrence. But in all honesty, I cannot. This past week, every day has brought high winds and blowing dirt. Yesterday, I had to get fuel for my car and had to stand in an L stance to keep from being blown down.

We are in such drought here that I wonder if we'll ever get over it. As I get older, I understand much better the meaning of the phrase "Greener Pastures".  

~MfT

Til Death Do They Part

Mabrey's life didn't turn out as she had planned. She was a loved child. She had loving parents and a nine year older brother, Billy who she always wanted to live up to. To her, Billy hung the moon and was everything.

 

Mabrey was popular in her own right. As she went through high school, she excelled at everything she tried. Band, at the time, wasn't a geek sport. It was popular. She tried out and was accepted as first chair flute. She played in the orchestra. Mabrey was also athletic, as a twirler, basketball guard, softball hind catcher, volleyball setter. She also was an officer in drama club. But in her mind, it wasn't enough. Big brother, Billy, whom teachers always reminded Mabrey they remembered, was ever foremost in her mind. She still didn't think she could be enough.

 

Mabrey never wanted to be married. She certainly never wanted to have children. She had dreams of being a veterinarian, an actress, or a pianist, and the time spent on all three is best done when unattached. She loved all three professions and it was so hard to pick just one, but she was only 17, so there was still time to decide.  Mabrey wanted to come into her own, on her own, be her own. She didn't want the shadow of her brother looming over her or to be his shadow.  But instead of excelling, she began rebelling.

 

She met the Vet, not the animal kind, but the Green Beret kind. Stephen was handsome, funny and dangerous. Mabrey had never in her relatively young life known someone who was so romantic, yet mysterious. He was a great taleteller, too, and he told her of his travels and adventures in "'Nam". He told her of living with the Montagnards and the secret missions they would do together. Both the Special Forces and these villagers thrived in the unforgiving environment of the mountain jungles. Stephen said he felt at home there. He also spoke of the beauty and gentleness of the people, especially the woman. Mabrey should have listened better than just hearing the picturesque words.

 

The time they spent together was in secret, after all she was only 17 and he was almost ten years older. Mabrey's parents would never approve, even though they knew him and his family. She needed to graduate High School, go to college and decide what she wanted to do with her life. There was still time to decide.

 

But as with all secrets and small towns, the secret got out. Her parents discovered the relationship. By now, she was almost 18, so they rationalized that it was best to agree to the relationship, hoping by accepting and not refusing her, she would come to her senses and eventually tire of the situation.

 

Even with the best laid plans of well meaning parents, the passion of a young heart could not be stopped. This was the time to decide. Stephen asked her to marry him. Mabrey said yes.

 

She had met a Vet. She met a different life.

 

Mabrey had rebelled, but she knew this rebellion had been a mistake and would change the course of her world forever.  The courtship really hadn't been that long. What did she and Stephen have in common? What had she done in her attempt to be her own person? She was soon not to be her own. She sat in her bath the morning of her wedding and cried.

 

Mabrey walked down the aisle of the First Baptist Church saying to herself "TURN AROUND, TURN AROUND!" But she didn't. There were too many in the church, she was holding the arm of her Daddy, the organ was playing, she was wearing white. Turn around. But she didn't. She walked down that long aisle to the unknown.

 

The marriage charade continued for a while. Mabrey played the part of wife. She had decided to settle into this world as she knew she should, but Stephen was settling into a different world, a world where Mabrey was not welcome. The picturesque words had stopped. They were replaced with words of regret, words of longing for the Mountain People and life in the jungles and with dreams of desire for a Mountain Person. Stephen talked of returning. He began having frantic dreams, thrashing about, his sweat soaking the sheets. Mabrey made the mistake of touching him in comfort one late night only to be greeted back with a gun to her head. Now was the time to decide.

 

The divorce was short and sweet. They never saw each other again. Mabrey heard Stephen later remarried and had children. She wished him well, but wished his new wife even better. She still thought of him often, with fondness, but also with heart breaking sadness.

 

The phone call came almost 29 years to the date of that fateful aisle walk. The Vet had taken that gun and finished his own life. He had decided.