CarmenJimersonCross
Bio
proper name? CarmenJimersonCross-Safieddine SHARING LIFE LIVED, things seen, lessons learned, and spreading peace where I can.
Read, like, and subscribe! Maybe toss a dollar tip into my "hat." Thanks! Carmen (still telling stories!)
Stories (113)
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LITTLE HELPERS
THE ORDER WAS IN, a straight-line list of the direction to take for an upcoming retirement. Six years remained until a plan had to be funded and put in place. I was working out a plan that eventually is met by any of us that makes the age line we call "retirement." The addition of a "little bundle" at my home was an unplanned feature but no problem... just another "volunteer notion." A grandchild can be a big help.
By CarmenJimersonCross3 years ago in Families
MEDICINAL HERB FARMING
CHRISTMAS WAS KILLED and buried beneath smears and splattered blood from last-minute dining room decor of string lights around and across the room from the chandelier to each corner and to the kitchen door. My own blood stained the walls and dining room table spread with in-progress table setting for the pleasure of the youngest grandson who had cajoled me and his great grand mom into decorating and buying simple gifts in the pinch of time that remained for his mom to appear in her ever, never doing habit. As I strung up lights to hang the paper snowflakes made by him and his great granny, he had left his seat to jump as high as he could to rip the lights down. The last leap ripped the string of lights in my hand down from the wall and caused a tiny bulb to break and gash my hand. Frustrated with the entire setting, I grabbed up the handful I had been working with and yanked the rest down, cutting another deeper gash into my hand. There was blood everyplace. "That's it!" I yelled. I grabbed up cards and "White Elephant" packages to toss into a box sitting at the side of the table. Dinner had yet to be compiled in the final stages and I was the only one to make it. There was blood everywhere and nothing was going right. We were supposed to have moved into a farmhouse using my Holiday Savers account as the down payment, to start a goat farm... harvesting mohair, milk, and goat cheese. It was all damned.
By CarmenJimersonCross3 years ago in Families
THE MYSTERY BOX
THE BOX CAME LARGE and tattered, marked with directional signals pointed in every direction as if Santa himself had taken the tour to deliver it. A humourous note card with "LOVE" in red emboldened letters and someone's scribbled artwork hearts drawn on and around the "send to" placard signaled that it was indeed shipped to me. My name and the directional "side up" and "left side... right side" were clearly marked on the cardboard box dropped on the doorstep by a delivery robot drone seen wheeling up to the door from the corner curb to drop roll the heavy item that tipped it a bit as it deposited its package in a completed delivery before rolling gingerly away. A little red dot glimmering on the RING DOORBELL image captured on the video told us that it recorded the drop spot before leaving our property. "Grandmom!" the familiar voice of my youngest grandson rang in the hollow cavity of the foyer in his excitement at the discovery. His overwhelmed review of the robot delivery man... instead of John, the mail carrier, brought his eight-year-old frame trotting from the upstairs bedroom to the front door before anyone else could move. The door was flung open and as he tugged and then rolled the box inside his dad appeared from his own bedroom to lift and carry the box to the dining room table. "What is it?" I asked, pulling the knots out of my back after having been sitting for so long in front of the morning news and weather. They read the label in a scramble of mushed utterances craning their necks to catch the words on each pastie applied for the travel stops made by the package. "From Alaska," it says, "Alaska Air Lines," then after a brief pause and turn of the package, "Here's another one... Dallas Fort Worth" and "SATO." My own head tilted a bit to one side and a suspicious eyebrow raised itself without the support of a questioning word. "Here it has your name, mom." I took a deep breath and motioned for them to open the box. Within seconds the labels were bypassed and taped ends ripped and cut away. "Be careful with that knife, we don't know what it is... don't damage it!" I bellowed from across the room now. My son raised then, in one quick jerk on the remains of the outer packaging, slid the interiors free of the container. Their faces turned to drop-mouth and bulged eyes at the sight before us all.
By CarmenJimersonCross3 years ago in Fiction
A WIZ
A WIZ (complete) By Carmen R. Cross Intro..... With light music, easy listening with a touch of blues melody in the background, Dorothy mouthed words relaying her own blue funk. To the tune of The 5th Dimension's song ... "One Less Man," Dorothy crooned...
By CarmenJimersonCross3 years ago in Fiction
AFRAID?
Are you afraid of anything? I was afraid that President Trump was having a nervous breakdown; a businessman made to be a politician because he was rich. I was afraid that my sixteen-year-old son went to Milwaukee with a friend's family DURING JEFFREY DAHMERs terror run. I was afraid of a lesbian pushing into my "happy" marriage. I was afraid of Black Hebrews lining up an assault on me at an Islamic Community Center meeting.
By CarmenJimersonCross3 years ago in Poets
Living in the Dust
WHO COULD LIVE THERE when others boast of crawling from beneath floorboards in the close spaces of other's homes, eating from the crumbs that should fall therein intentionally or by accident? Who could idealize survival in the roost or underbelly of a relic that they become captive such as that beast of London's old? ...Quasimodo and such. They did tell us, those that could listen... could hear with an inner mind, words being read back from days gone. Lest we repeat his history and that of others long gone for what fates they brought upon themselves by their simple existence... by the simple act of survival. Who could live here?
By CarmenJimersonCross3 years ago in Families
Avoiding Monsters in Life's Journey
WE NEVER KNOW WHAT IS OUT THERE beyond our immediate and original line of vision. What we do know is that in having been given life, we are expected to live it in our best focus. What we do not know is what lies beyond our own ideal of what we can accomplish within the bounds of knowledge presented to us. We must seek increased opportunities to create the best resolve. Whether starting off from secondary school with a plan "to become" or "to create" a well-paid personality that exists within a respectable category of career. The normal hope for pursuing that focus is to accomplish it with as few diversions of replanning and refunding the adventure as possible. Most of us who have taken such a route as described know that monsters do appear, and they appear in such gargantuan proportions as the need for a change, of course, is the only option worthy of saving a lifetime of planning one's life.
By CarmenJimersonCross3 years ago in Motivation
OUT AT NIGHT
I was heading out and had to get there fast, but was midway through designing a cover for a living room settee to coordinate with a new color scheme of black and white with red accents when I was called to the rush to "get in the car." I pulled the fabric up around me to cover my recent removal of sweat shorts and sweatshirt being tossed off after a lengthy walk around my usual eight to ten-block exercise trail through our neighborhood. I had come in ready to work the handmade pattern for the ottoman cover.
By CarmenJimersonCross3 years ago in Beat
I DEFER
"I'm driving, girl! Your second-hand smoke is gonna get me high and we won't ever make it back home." If you have ever been the designated driver on America's after-hour roadways that line hits home for you. ACCORDING TO AGRIBUSINESS' BIG MEDIA... "the difference between cannabis and marijuana, is that cannabis is the genus while marijuana is the species. Both hemp and marijuana plants belong to the cannabis genus. In other words, all marijuana is cannabis, but not all cannabis is marijuana.
By CarmenJimersonCross3 years ago in Potent
SANDY'S DOG
SHE WAS THERE WHEN I ARRIVED newly assigned to the unit meant for caring. We were there to “care” for those who were pushed aside and left on the doorstep of the general public. She was there sitting alone to herself “compromising,” she said, “...compromising the effect of not sharing her pups to a willing owner.” Not as giddy as the other women who chatted and sashayed about the front rooms of the Lowden workspace mulling over their “has dones”, “had to be dones” and “wanna dos” for that coming next session of days before or after work. She sat there writing notes of suggestion to herself. I stepped over to the table and, with a smile on my face, sailed a big “hello” and sat down across from her. “We have a slightly different program on this unit than at my last workstation… the women are all needing for “personal skills” help aren’t they?” Sandy Smits glanced up from her notes to reply, “They are all non-working, ambulatory and low to medium incidence mentally impaired… from birth. We have a lot to do if they will ever get into the “normal” swing of life.” She gazed back upon her notes and went silent again. “I can see they are going to be a handful. What are you detailing there? Special procedures for…” A smirk crossed her cheek and lips before they parted to speak, “No, I have to make a decision. I have to part with my little loves. I’ve just become a mother to a welp of Irish setters and have no clue as to where they are going. They can’t stay with me... us; we don’t have room to raise puppies… large nor small.” My eyes brightened. I had always loved the look presented by the setters flowing red... Auburn hair! Nose-to-tail auburn, seeming grace and undying energy! Try one on me, my children are young enough to grow on it and it on them. They would have a running buddy. We go out often. hiking trails and fields on any number of plant identification moments… we identify beneficial plants for medicine and wild edibles. He would be right at home with us!” How much for one… a boy preferably.” Now she smiled, “You hike?” I gave up my admission, “Only as much as time permits... And locally. Not further than out to our family patch in Indiana.”
By CarmenJimersonCross3 years ago in Petlife
