JESSIE'S VEGAS

Dear Daddy, Not the REAL First Creek I keep forgetting what day it is. Is it Saturday? My default day is always Saturday so it must be my favorite day of the week. Growing up, cartoon shows were only on Saturday morning. I remember going over to grandma Goodwin's and watching cartoons while she made us waffles. I do not think I have had crisper, tastier waffles since. Saturdays meant a day off from school, a day full of play and exploring. Yes, Saturday is still my favorite day. I have lost track of time this week because our world was disrupted with the news of Dave's brothers death. Time stands still during things like this as memories or grief push in and insist they have their say.  Scott was a kind soul who loved his children fiercely.  After he lost his daughter,Zoe, I do not know if he ever truly recovered. He seemed more at peace the last couple of years and I think it is because he found the joy and exuberance of the  sky. The feeling of lightness, fresh air and ...

I try them on one at a time... A thought ,no...surely a phrase to make  things aright. But words are glass shards broken in the asphalt of my mind Thoughts, are empty hours lost in the night Grief is so heavy! An unwanted blanket. Covers of confusion and sadness. A query against the gift of sight Can something exist no longer seen? If matter is not destroyed then maybe, maybe that soul  just might Go on from this world full of sorrow and pain. search, find its body and   reunite. Nicole Budge

The mourning doves are taking over. I see them on power-lines, or in the lower branches of trees,their soulful cries juxtaposed sharply against the giddy warblings of the meadowlarks. Visiting the home of my childhood, I realize I no longer hear the meadowlark's joy for the morning in full volume. Instead it is the mourning dove's voice echoing my heart. And though it's song is not as light and carefree, it is still beautiful.

Our third child graduated high honors from high school and I am profoundly grateful for an omniscient God who packs not toys in his bag of tricks, but miracles.  When Alyssa was young, she was diagnosed with Tourette's disorder and CAPD(central auditory processing disorder) so she could not always control how she reacted to situations.  It was a taxing time as she was not the only one in the house with neurological troubles.  In fact, she seemed to fight everyday with her older sister that had Asperger's.  Listening to them squabble reminded me of the time I had a patient from China who fired her doctor from India. She said, "I cannot understand a word she is saying. Are you sure she is speaking English?" I realized both of them had heavy accents based on the world regions from where they hailed.  They would become exasperated trying to understand one another. I think my older daughter, Lauren, did not understand the Tourette's dialect just as much ...

Search:   Go! “Alyssum” I walk out my front door and pretend not to look at my flower pots that should be gracing my front stoop in vibrant, dripping colors. To say my thumb is not green, but maybe black is an understatement. I apologize to my former friends for the neglect and utter parchment they have faced with the warmer temperatures. I notice out of the corner of my eye, that a speck of life still remains. “There is a hero in this arid soil! Who could this be?” I exclaim to myself. My eyes fill with tears as I realize it is the Alyssum that has conquered the bright noonday and ravages of the Idaho wind. It’s tiny white blossoms overflow the edge of my pot and take over the empty space the deceased marigolds and moss left behind. I laugh at my emotion. I am sentimental, but not usually over foliage. No, my tears are for another Alyssum that has bloomed in the midst of life’s sco...

August 8, 2013 "Different"  A young nurse approached me a few weeks ago looking for some advice.  "Nicole, my son's pre-school teachers are worried about him. He is not as social as he needs to be, he keeps lining up objects, and he has a certain fascination with topics of his choosing. They want him tested for autism. Should I be concerned?" I asked her, "Is he happy?" She said, "Yes". I asked her, "Does he have friends?" "Yes," she said. "Is he functional?" "Yep", she said. "Then they need to relax," I told her. Let me tell you about my dad. My dad was often in a hurry, impatient and curt in his answers to us. I believe it was because he had a million ideas coursing through his brain and he had a hard time focusing. On the upswing, he had a million ideas coursing through his brain and we were the lucky recepients of his ideas! Like the zip-line, tree-house, trainset, race course and juke ...